Reception: Purgatory of the Army

Hurry up and wait. My first night in the Army was just that. As I mentioned in my previous post, I expected drill sergeants with their “Smokey the Bear” hats to be lurking but I never saw the first drill sergeant until 5:00 am. When we got to the Copple Center is was about 11:30 pm. Many hours of a sleepless night was yet to follow.

An NCO assigned to the 46th Adjutant General Battalion, we’ll call him “Sgt. H” was in a room with a large group. He told us to sit down on the benches outside the room and for us not to fall asleep. He sounded like he was sick, and later, he would confirm that by saying “the reason I’m sick is because guys go to the bathroom, touch their johnsons and do not wash their hands.” One of the wise guys next to me whispered “I touch my expletive all of the time and I don’t wash mine.” I believe to some it would have been “TMI” but not this time.” This guy smelled funky and I was fortunate not to have to sit next to him.


The Reception Company was broken down into large groups called series. Each series consists of privates who would be in-processed into the Army over the next several days. Each series had its own number, and mine was Series 216, and my line number was 120. So instead of the Reception Drill Sergeants calling us by name during accountability formations we would give roll call by saying our line number. For example, the drill sergeant would say “216 Series.” In unison, we would all say “216, Drill Sergeant!” As he would call out the number, the private would say their last name and take a knee. In my case, the drill sergeant would say “120” and I would respond “Holster, Drill Sergeant.”

Back to the first night of in-processing. Sgt H started us in a large room with small desks. We filled out paper work in which would be the start of our military record. I was impressed with the systematic manner that Sgt. H. used. He was very efficient in the way he conducted his duties, and he would indicate this later in the processing.

We went to the amnesty booth and deposited anything that could we could smoke, dip, chew, drink eat, blow up, cut, or otherwise cause the Army to get angry with us. The nice thing about it was that no one knows who put what in the booth. For me, it was a Nutragrain snack bar.

We got our first issue of Army clothing and equipment. It was only a minuscule issue for us to get by on until we would receive our main issue later in the day. It consisted of a set of PT’s (grey shirt and black shorts), a smart book, our green laundry bag, and our companion throughout BCT, the 2 quart canteen. The Army has three things all need to remember. Never forget these three things: 1) Memorize the Seven Army Values and their definitions 2) Memorize the Soldier’s Creed and 3) DRINK WATER) The Army can never over stress the need to drink water and stay hydrated, even in the winter months.

I thought my 2 quart was absolutely disgusting and I did not even bother putting water into it until I had enough time to wash it out with scalding hot water. It had been used by someone who might have eaten a nasty turd or used it as a “pee-can.” It was the one thing a lot of us felt the Army should never re-issue. After all, they do not re-issue underwear, Hooah? We also used the 2 quart like a “man purse,” especially when we were in our PT’s. We stuff our smart books, ID cards, etc, in the pouch, and it was slung over our left shoulder and carried on our right side. Until we turned everything during week nine of basic, we would not have been caught dead without our canteen, even if leaving our bays to go to the latrine (restroom). In mine, I had extra pens, notebook paper that was folded and sealed in a zip lock bag, and none other than hand sanitizer.

Hand sanitizer was another must-have item. Sgt H said “if you guys would clean your hands after touching your johnsons I wouldn’t be sick!” I still haven’t figured out how one can catch a cold if someone else “touches their Johnson.” Hand sanitizer also was part of the uniform.

We sat on the hard floor for over an hour placing items into the green laundry bags, as directed by Sgt H and taking any other items and placing them into our personal bags, as directed by Sgt H. Then we all stood in line and stepped up on a box with a clear, Plexiglas platform and a mirror under the Plexiglas. The purpose was for Sgt H to look at the reflection of our feet to and determine what type of running shoe I needed. He wrote “C” in my “smartbook” meaning I would need cushioned running shoes.

Finally, we were given five minutes to run into the latrine, change into our PT’s and place all of our civilian clothing into our personal bag. Other than the socks on my feet and some personal hygiene stuff, I was completely stripped of my civilian self. We were fortunate to have been able to keep our tennis shoes. We didn’t go to the shoppette until the following day to get our shoes, personal hygiene and other items. A lot of us didn’t get to shave until we made our initial purchase because we did not have any shaving gear

Speaking of shoes, recruiters should not tell their future soldiers “you get your new shoes when you get there” because if taken literal, it would imply that we would get our new running shoes upon arrival. To the contrary, we go to the shoppette when it is open and when our series was scheduled to go there. Unfortunately a fellow, who would later become a very close friend at basic, wore an old pair of cowboy boots to Ft. Knox. And he didn’t have any shoes. He had to march everywhere with his summer pt’s on until we made it to the shoppette.

Prior to marching to the storage barracks to store our personal bags, I finally saw something that caused me to get awestruck. Lean but built like a rock, speaking with a deep, raspy voice and wearing a uniform that was perfect was a soldier that we all wanted to be. On his right lower chest of his Army Combat Uniform (ACU) top, was a black oval shaped badge that said “This we’ll defend.” It was a badge worn by all present and past personnel who have or had the title “Drill Sergeant.” Oh, did I mention that he was wearing a brown, campaign hat?

I’m a deputy sheriff, and I have a hat that is identical in shape. State troopers, park rangers and other professions have hats that are shaped identical to my deputy sheriff hat. However a Drill Sergeant Hat is one thing that made us all “ooh” and “ah.” It is also something one must never touch. The irony is, however, this same drill sergeant would, on a later day, ask me to run to his truck one after noon because he forgot his drill sergeant hat. Being older does have its privileges.

A short time after marching to our new barracks, which smelled like a Pine Sol factory, we were issued our linens. We ran inside the barracks and threw our laundry bags and linens into our locker. I brought a lock with me so I was able to lock my stuff up. We ran back outside and stood in formation. We looked like “hot garbage,” a term drill sergeants was specially trained to use. We could not seem to get ourselves squared away and then, out of nowhere came another drill sergeant, and I’ll call him DSP. DSP was another example of the Army’s finest NCO’s handpicked to serve as a drill sergeant. His voice was raspy, which was the evidence that he had done his share of yelling. And on this day, we would know exactly why his voice was raspy. He told us “Privates today is day 1, so it is uh-oh on me but next time it is uh oh on you. You better get it together because you don’t want ‘Ole Drill’ coming down on you!” I couldn’t see him, just his DS hat.

While standing there in formation, I heard something that really perked me up. In fact, to this day, I will never forget this, despite the day being a blur. A platoon of basic trainees was calling a cadence that I could not get out of my head even if I wanted too. I listened to some cadences on youtube.com but never heard of this one. The cadence itself was great, but to actually hear 50-60 men sound off as one voice, literally made chills run down my spine. The cadence was “Airborne Rangers Lead The Way” and when I first heard, the sound was from several blocks away. It got closer to Reception and as I looked toward the multitude of basic training barracks, I saw the BCT platoon marching down a path, and then it made a column right. The platoon marched in front of our Series’ formation. They were holding their M-16’s at Port Arms and marching perfectly. Their phase banner was blue, meaning they were in their last three weeks or training.


We went to our first breakfast chow. Hurry up and wait would begin as we would have to run in an orderly fashion until we got to the chow hall door. We stood, or were supposed to stand, at parade rest, but most of these kids did not do this. They would be talking and carrying without a care in the world. That is until one of the drill sergeants came through and began to yell. DSC, much larger and more menacing looking drill sergeant, walked through and looked dead at me and yelled “get your butt moving, guy! You think you special.” I was standing at parade rest, eyes forward and standing upright. However, I had a mental laps and failed to notice the guys in front of me had moved up about five feet, and the guy behind me was telling me to move. It wouldn’t be the last time I would get yelled at.

In the chow hall, there were more drill sergeants. The older one, a Sergeant First Class, reminded me of a mix of R. Lee Ermy and Curly from the Three Stooges. He looked like Curly, but had the bushy eye brows and leather lungs of Gunney Ermy. He was sitting at a round table between the food area and the long tables were we were sitting. He yelled every 30 seconds “Hurry up!” The time to eat in reception was about two minutes if you were lucky. The catch, was that you got your food, went to your table and you had to walk fast to get your drink. Then, you walk fast back to your table, eat fast and get out before you got yelled at. However, if you or your battle buddies get caught looking around the entire table was done.

It happened. It had been around twelve hours since my last meal and the show hall food was yummy, but some genius called the drill sergeant by name. A big mistake! As a basic training private, you NEVER call a drill sergeant by their name, or any NCO for that matter. They would say “do I look like your battle buddy?” This drill sergeant said “All right this table is done and you can thank your battle buddy.”

There are procedures for the chow halls, otherwise known dining facility (difac). Without getting into all of them, and there are many, one of the things is you cannot stand up until the food in your mouth has been swallowed, and you cannot get the last drink of your fluids if you are already standing. When the DS says you are done, that means it! Well, yours truly, who is used to eating in a hurry, didn’t know this. I had a big wad of food in my mouth and tried to get the last swallow of orange juice. Big mistake! I got yelled a by, non other than the same DS that yelled at me in the chow line. “You are chewed up private! We are going to have problems with you.” Another DS was standing next to him and said “he’s a a pudgy old expletive. He and going to make it, Battle.” (DS’s referred to each other as “Battle” short for Battle Buddy).

The rest of that day was spent doing some in-processing. We got our first haircuts, did more paperwork, more briefings, and more hurry up and wait. As I was punch drunk from the lack of sleep, the day was a blur. But three things about the day I vividly remember: 1) We went the entire day without a bathroom break, 2) We all got yelled at from either the drill sergeants and/or civilians and 3) It was the longest day of my life. Between the hurry and wait and lack of sleep, hours seemed like days. For example, when we went to the chow hall for lunch, I thought it was the following day, not our Day 1. My mind was playing so many tricks on me. I thought for sure one of the DS’s was going to make mince meat out of me for nodding off. They were screaming at several privates who were nodding off. The DS’s had done this a time or two: good luck in trying to get anything past those guys and if they catch you, your ears may be ringing the rest of the day.

Along with the hurry up and wait, it seemed as if the Army had way more people than the facilities would allow. However, it was revealed to me that the Army tries to pack as many people with fewer resources. After all, it is entirely designed to take us out of our comfort zones. For example, 150 of us had to get our haircuts. There were not enough benches to seat all of us if we sat conventionally. So we straddled the benches and sat “nut to but,” meaning that the guy’s butt in front of you was in your private areas. You had to break all shyness, despite the fact some guys smelled like a manure field during a heat wave. None of us had bathed since the night before, and as usual, somebody had some stinky gas. I’m glad I wasn’t directly behind him.

Also, with so many guys, we stood at parade rest “toe to heal” when standing in long lines. With 150 of us in the 216 Series alone, there were always long lines. Add the other guys who were either in-processing, hold overs waiting to go “down-range to basic” or some, for whatever reason was stuck in reception for indefinite periods of time. I thought the Army must really like this because, as another example, there would be only one ATM. That meant there would be long lines, and it would take forever because some of the guys would make multiple transactions. And about the haircuts, two barbers to shave the heads of 150 or so men.

The last thing we did before dinner chow was march to the Central Initial Issue Point (CIIF) to receive our full clothing issue. We were issued the following: four sets of ACU’s (as well as four sets of Velcro patches that included our last names), two pair of tan, suede boots (summer and winter), two patrol caps, a trouser belt, seven tan shirts, seven tan pair of underwear (yes the “tighties”), seven pair of socks, two sets of summer PT’s (bringing our summer total to three), winter PT’s (grey Army PT jacket, black PT pants, and PT cap/beanie), pair of black leather gloves and two sets of grey liner inserts, an ACU field jacket and a large, green duffle bag that we would keep for the rest of our Army careers. I’m sure I missed something but that was pretty much what we were issued.

The size of my ACU tops was fine, but my pants were too big. However the lady said I could get them exchanged during basic (which didn’t happen). We stuffed everything into our duffle/green back and marched back to the barracks. Finally, we got to eat dinner chow, fix our bunks and crash. BUT!! Fireguard had to be manned and guess who got the 1st shift? I did. And I was pooped!

The rest of the week was spent getting shots, dental exams, filling out more paperwork and more “hurry up and wait.” The rest of the week, like day one, was a blur but it would seem like a month had passed before Friday would arrive. We were all looking forward to Friday because it was the day we would take our PT test that would qualify us to go “downrange” to basic. But, we didn’t go until Monday of the following week.

It was my first week in the Army and I absolutely hated it. By next week, I would hate it even more.