Into The Storm We Rode

My journey to become a United States Marine began on September 16th with a plane ride out of Detroit International Airport bound for Savannah International. I took an early flight (around 11 am) with two other 'recruits'. One was a guy named Okim, who was from the Ivory Coast of Africa (More on him later) and had a nearly impenetrable accent, and a quiet mouse of a man named Cruz, who ended up being in my platoon at boot. The three of us were the first 'recruits' to arrive in Savannah out of a few hundred and so we were a bit coded by the fact that once we got into the airport any chance of escape flew out the window. But then again, we weren't there to quit before we began so carried on. 

A few hours after we arrived (which felt like a good balance of the week) we were herded unceremoniously onto a non descript bus and shipped off to the famed and fabled Parris Island, South Carolina Marine Corps Recruit Depot. About half an hour or so into our ride, we were told to keep our heads down that way we couldn't memorize the route off base if we tried to escape. That's a comforting idea to know that men have tried to escape the island as if it were Alcatraz and not Parris Island. We complied and continued on our twisting and Turing trip to the processing building on base. About the time we had lost basically all sense of direction save for the simple 'up, down, left, and right' we heard a gravelly and authoritative voice say (with some words omitted) 'Get of my bus, now.' The storm had finally come and we were right in the dead center of it with no way out but forward. And that path to salvation began with yellow footprints on the asphalt.

The End

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