by Dan Caddy
DEDICATION
THIS BOOK IS DEDICATED FIRST AND FOREMOST TO ALL CURRENT AND FORMER DRILL SERGEANTS: YOU HAVE SHAPED THE GENERATIONS OF SOLDIERS WHO HAVE SERVED WITH DISTINCTION IN BOTH PEACE AND WAR.
TO MY WIFE, LINDSEY, WHOSE SUPPORT AND UNDERSTANDING DURING THE CRAZY TIMES IS THE ONLY REASON ASMDSS IS STILL GOING AND THIS BOOK EXISTS.
LAST BUT NOT LEAST, TO THE ADMINS AND STAFF WHOSE ASSISTANCE, INSPIRATION, FRIENDSHIP, AND CAMARADERIE MADE THIS BOOK POSSIBLE FROM THE BEGINNING.
CONTENTS
DEDICATION
INTRODUCTION
THE CREEDS
PART ONE: SHARK ATTACK
PART TWO: SINK OR SWIM
PART THREE: LIFE AFTER BASIC
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
RESOURCES
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
CREDITS
COPYRIGHT
ABOUT THE PUBLISHER
INTRODUCTION
Meet your drill sergeant, Private.
Even someone with zero knowledge of the military will see the fatigues and the “round brown” campaign hat and instantly know who they are looking at—a sight usually followed by a stab of uneasiness. Brought into the cultural mainstream by R. Lee Ermey in his masterful portrayal of a Marine Corps drill instructor in the film Full Metal Jacket, the drill sergeant is an immediately recognizable and iconic figure. Everyone has an idea in their head of what a drill sergeant is . . . and does. Often that image is focused on fear, aggression, pain, and discipline. And while it’s true that a drill sergeant’s larger-than-life persona and “motivational style” may incorporate some, or all, of those panic-inducing, gut-checking, strength-building forces, you might not know one other important thing . . . drill sergeants are some of the FUNNIEST people on the planet!
Those of you who have served in the military will have your own vivid memories of your drill sergeants (and know exactly what I’m talking about). And if you’re anything like me, and the thousands of veterans I’ve talked with over the years, you can probably also speak to the impact that a drill sergeant has on your life after Basic Training has ended. This book, and the Awesome Sh*t My Drill Sergeant Said Facebook page that spawned it, collect the very best quotes, stories, lists, words of wisdom—and maybe a few insults—from America’s finest drill sergeants. While they may not be there to uplift your spirits or compliment your wardrobe, drill sergeants have honed their ability to transform young men and women into professional disciplined warriors—and maybe have a good laugh (at you) while they do it.
THE DRILL SERGEANT CREED
I am a drill sergeant
I will assist each individual in their efforts to become a highly motivated, well disciplined, physically and mentally fit soldier, capable of defeating any enemy on today’s modern battlefield.
I will instill pride in all I train. Pride in self, in the Army, and in country.
I will insist that each soldier meets and maintains the Army standards of military bearing and courtesy, consistent with the highest traditions of the U.S. Army.
I will lead by example, never requiring a soldier to attempt any task I would not do myself.
But first, last, and always, I am an American soldier. Sworn to defend the Constitution of the United States against all enemies, both foreign and domestic.
I am a drill sergeant.
THE SOLDIER’S CREED
I am an American soldier.
I am a warrior and a member of a team.
I serve the people of the United States, and live the Army values.
I will always place the mission first.
I will never accept defeat.
I will never quit.
I will never leave a fallen comrade.
I am disciplined, physically and mentally tough, trained and proficient in my warrior tasks and drills.
I always maintain my arms, my equipment, and myself.
I am an expert and I am a professional.
I stand ready to deploy, engage, and destroy the enemies of the United States of America in close combat.
I am a guardian of freedom and the American way of life.
I am an American soldier.
THE PRIVATE’S CREED
I am a private!
I am weak and have no heart.
I can never do the right thing or ever accept responsibility.
I will always place my feelings first!
I will never admit fault!
I will always quit!
I will always take the easy way out!
I am obnoxious, physically and mentally weak, immature, and potentially retarded.
I always maintain my profile, my sick call slips, and lack of motivation.
I wear my grenade bar.
I stand ready to fall out of, skip out on, or otherwise fail at PT.
I suck at life and will never try to better myself.
I am a private!
NOW YOU SEE WHY WE ARE ALWAYS PISSED OFF . . .
Welcome to Basic Training. Go ahead and thank your recruiter, your uncle, your own inner voice telling you to sign up—whoever it was—for paving the road to Basic. There is no turning back once you hit Reception. As a private, you arrive at the Reception Battalion, where you are processed in, get your immunizations, and are then issued your uniforms and equipment. And then, before you can call home to say you’ve changed your mind . . . Basic begins for real—with the Shark Attack.
In Basic Training parlance, a Shark Attack is just what you would probably imagine it to be—a veritable verbal feeding frenzy where drill sergeants are the sharks swarming around and unfortunate privates are their prey. The most unfortunate guppies in the group are the privates who have drawn attention to themselves for one or more transgressions. A true Shark Attack isn’t complete yelling and screaming. It’s a drill sergeant’s job to bombard unlucky privates with as many stimuli as possible. The drill sergeants want to get an idea of who remains collected under pressure and who is easily flustered. Most important of all, a Shark Attack turns the world upside down for those privates, gives them their first real look at what is to come, and shows them just who will control every aspect of their lives for the next few months.
The most memorable of all Shark Attacks is Day Zero, which occurs when you leave Reception and you load up on transport, put your face in your duffel bag, and start counting the days until you’re done with Basic. As you are dropped off at your Basic Training Company Area, your drill sergeants are there to greet you (nice, right?), lining the path from the bus to the Company Training Area. It is at that moment, as you pile out of the bus clutching your bags, that you most likely think, What have I gotten myself into?
ON DAY ZERO YOU LEARN NOT TO STARE AT YOUR DRILL SERGEANT . . .
“LOOK AT ME
AGAIN AND I’LL
SET YOU ON FIRE
AND PUT YOU OUT
WITH A FORK.”
DRILL SERGEANTS DON’T SAY “DROP AND GIMME FIFTY” ANYMORE. THEY SAY . . .
“SHUT
THE FUCK
UP AND
EAT SOME
CONCRETE.”
YOUR DRILL SERGEANT UNDERSTANDS YOU THINK BASIC TRAINING IS HARD . . .
“YEAH, I BET THIS IS
A LOT HARDER THAN
SITTING IN YOUR
MOM’S BASEMENT,
SUCKING ON HER
TIT WHILE PLAYING
WORLD OF WARCRAFT,
YOU GOLEM-LOOKING
MOTHERFUCKER!”
BUT YOUR DRILL SERGEANT IS REALLY HAPPY YOU’RE HERE . . .
“I AM THE
FUCKING ALPHA
AND FUCKING
OMEGA OF YOUR
FUCKING LIFE FOR
/> THE NEXT TEN
FUCKING WEEKS
AND ONE FUCKING
DAY, PRIVATE!”
DRILL SERGEANTS LOVE DIFFICULT CHALLENGES . . .
“HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO
UNFUCK EIGHTEEN YEARS
IN THREE MONTHS?”
DRILL SERGEANTS WANT TO TEACH YOU ABOUT TIME MANAGEMENT . . .
“WE’RE GONNA
BE HERE EVERY
HOUR, ON THE
HOUR, FOR AN
HOUR.”
THEY ARE IDIOTS WHEN THEY ARRIVE . . .
I am a Reception Battalion drill sergeant. During the Reception process, the soldiers are taken to the PX (Post Exchange) to purchase their required items in preparation for Basic Combat Training. One of these items is a wrist-watch. A soldier approached me, sounding serious:
SOLDIER: DRILL SERGEANT, WHICH WATCH DO WE BUY?
DS: SOLDIER, CHOOSE ONE OF THE AUTHORIZED WATCHES AND MOVE OUT.
SOLDIER: BUT, DRILL SERGEANT, WHICH ONE? THEY ALL HAVE DIFFERENT TIMES. WHICH WATCH IS SET TO THE CORRECT TIME?
DS: SOLDIER, IS THIS SUPPOSED TO BE FUNNY?
SOLDIER: NO, DRILL SERGEANT, I’M AFRAID IF I BUY THE WRONG WATCH I’LL BE LATE.
DS: THANK YOU, SOLDIER, I NEEDED THAT.
This is what we have to work with when the recruits arrive for Basic Training.
DRILL SERGEANTS SET BOUNDARIES EARLY . . .
“PRIVATES, YOU’LL
REALIZE THAT
THERE ARE TWO
WOMEN I WILL
NEVER COMMENT
ON. THOSE ARE
YOUR MOMS AND
YOUR WIVES. I DID
FUCK ALL YOUR
GIRLFRIENDS,
THOUGH.”
DRILL SERGEANTS KNOW HOW TO HELP YOU SLEEP AT BASIC . . .
“IF YOU’RE HAVING
TROUBLE SLEEPING
TONIGHT, PRIVATES,
WHATEVER YOU DO, DON’T
THINK ABOUT THE FACT
THAT YOUR PARENTS ARE
PROBABLY HAVING SEX
IN YOUR OLD BEDROOM
BECAUSE YOUR
WATER-HEADED ASS IS
FINALLY GONE.”
YOUR DRILL SERGEANT WANTS YOU TO EAT, NOT TALK . . .
“IF I HEAR ONE
MORE WORD OUT
OF YOUR MOUTH,
PRIVATES, I WILL
PETER PAN ACROSS
THE DFAC [DINING
FACILITY] AND
PUNCH A HOLE IN
YOUR SOUL”
DRILL SERGEANTS NEED TO EAT TOO . . .
“PRIVATE,
IF YOU EVER
POINT YOUR
FINGERS
AGAIN, I WILL
BITE THEM
OFF LIKE BABY
CARROTS.”
DRILL SERGEANTS HATE BEING MISTAKEN FOR OFFICERS . . .
“DON’T CALL
ME SIR, I
WORK FOR A
LIVING! AND
MY PARENTS
WERE NOT
RELATED!”
DRILL SERGEANTS ARE THERE TO TEACH AND SUPPORT YOU . . .
“PRIVATE,
DON’T EVER
SALUTE
ME AGAIN!
I WILL SHOVE
THAT HAND
UP YOUR ASS
SO FAR
THAT YOU’LL
NEVER NEED
A PROSTATE
EXAM!”
EVERYONE KNEW HIS NAME . . .
We arrived at Reception with nothing but the hopes and dreams promised by our recruiters, and the already instilled fear of the drill sergeants. There were plenty of people from all over the country. We had recruits from California, Mississippi, Connecticut, Louisiana, Virginia, Vermont, even Hawaii. This particular private was named Takeu***chit, a good kid from Hawaii of Hawaiian Japanese descent.
One day during Reception we were served some pretty rough food at the chow hall. Once we were finished with everything for the day, we were released back to the barracks. For some strange reason the food did not sit so well with everybody in the platoon, so every single private and their mom was taking a dump in the latrine. Every single stall was being utilized with somebody cutting some major weight. Private Takeu***chit was the only one left latrine-less. Out of sheer desperation he decided to take a shit on the emergency stairwell in the barracks and to hide it behind a trash can.
Later that evening we were back in the barracks and somebody started smelling a foul odor in the air. “Something smells like SHIT,” yelled one of the privates. “What the fuck is that smell?” yelled another.
The smell was so bad that people were seen leaving the barracks to go outside, just to give some relief to their burning nostrils. Enter a drill sergeant: “Why the fuck is nobody in their bunks! It is way past lights-out!”
One of the privates yelled, “Somebody took a shit in the barracks, DS!”
After the privates had spent hours doing push-ups, the culprit, Private Takeu***chit, was found and made to clean up the mess.
Fast-forward to the first day of Basic Training. We met our drill sergeants for the first time. Shark Attack Central! Knife hands flying, round browns swirling in a cyclone of noise, hate, and intimidation. One of the drill sergeants stopped suddenly and looked at Private Takeu***chit. He yelled out, “Holy fuck, battle! It’s him! It’s him, it’s him!”
The cyclone of round browns stops and they all converged on the now extremely nervous Private Takeu***chit. The DS pulled out his phone and took a picture with him. “Oh, shit, battle, his name . . . it’s Private Take-A-Shit!” The whole platoon erupted in laughter. Bad idea . . . the DS’s immediately dropped us all and smoked the dog snot out of us for breaking discipline.
The goal of Basic Training is to go as long as possible before the drill sergeants know your name. Private Takeu***chit failed at that on DAY ONE. All throughout Basic Training, Private Takeu***chit from that point on was known as Private Take-A-Shit!
DRILL SERGEANTS WANT YOU TO UNDERSTAND YOU’RE NOT A LITTLE BABY ANYMORE . . .
“YOUR
MOTHER’S
TIT ONLY
STRETCHES
SO FAR.”
DRILL SERGEANTS WANT YOU TO EAT LIKE A GROWN-UP . . .
“BRING THE
BANANA TO
YOUR FACE,
PRIVATES,
NOT YOUR
FACE TO THE
BANANA.”
DRIVING LESSONS . . .
DRILL SERGEANT: WHO IN HERE CAN DRIVE A STICK?
PRIVATE: I CAN, DS!
DS: OUTSTANDING! (DS HANDS OVER A MOP.) DRIVE THIS AROUND THE DAMN FLOOR TILL YOU COULD FEED YOUR MAMA ON IT.
YOUR DRILL SERGEANT TAKES CLEANLINESS SERIOUSLY . . .
“I WANT
THAT TOILET
SEAT SO
CLEAN I CAN
MAKE A
SANDWICH
ON IT.”
DRILL SERGEANTS HAVE A UNIQUE SENSE OF SMELL . . .
“Y’ALL NEED TO
CLEAN THESE
BARRACKS . . .
MOTHERFUCKER
SMELLS LIKE
A GOAT IN AN
OVERCOAT.”
DRILL SERGEANTS WANT YOU TO SPEAK CLEARLY . . .
“IS THAT A
‘YES, DRILL
SERGEANT,’
‘NO, DRILL
SERGEANT,’
OR A
‘FUCK YOU,
DRILL
SERGEANT’?!”
DRILL SERGEANTS UNDERSTAND TIME CONSTRAINTS . . .
“I CAN SHOWER,
FEED MYSELF, FEED
A BABY, AND MAKE A
BABY ALL IN UNDER
TEN MINUTES. YOU
KNUCKLEHEADS
SURE AS SHIT CAN
EAT A GODDAMN
MEAL IN TEN
MINUTES.”
BUT DRILL SERGEANTS EXPECT YOU TO DRESS YOURSELF . . .
“IT LOOKS
LIKE A BIG
C
AN OF
FUCK BLEW
UP ALL
OVER YOUR
UNIFORM.”
DRILL SERGEANTS WANT TO HELP YOU GET WHERE YOU NEED TO BE . . .
“I WILL
PERSONALLY
BUILD A
STAIRCASE
TO THROW
YOU DOWN,
PRIVATE!”
I DIDN’T WANT TO JOIN THE ARMY . . .
The first week of Basic the drill sergeant asked if we had any questions. We had one kid who raised his hand.
KID: WHAT IF YOU AREN’T SUPPOSED TO BE HERE?
DS: WHAT?
KID: I DIDN’T WANT TO JOIN THE ARMY, BUT MY DAD MADE ME.
Our DS pulled him out of the formation and had him stand in the rear. When we got back to the barracks, DS called him into the office. All was quiet for a minute, and then we all flinched as the DS dropped the bomb on this poor kid. He yelled and berated him for five minutes straight and didn’t hold anything back.
About four weeks later, I pulled security with the kid while the rest of the platoon had rifle training. He had scored forty out of forty on BRM (Basic Rifle Marksmanship) and I got thirty-nine, so the two of us got guard duty. A DS drove out to bring us lunch and check on us.