The van was bumpy and smelled moldy, as if it had not been cleaned in years. My driver, her name was Doris, looked as if she was made from leather and spray-on tan, called out loudly for us to begin to wake up. I had fallen asleep while we traveled from Montgomery, Alabama to Parris Island, South Carolina. The day before had been my 25th birthday and I decided to reward myself this way. I stretched and saw the sign on the side of the road as our van's headlights passed by... Parris Island 65 miles. The nervousness was starting to set in. I was nearly to a new start. A place where they will only know me on paper and I can start over. I took stock of my surroundings.
While I was asleep, we had picked up several more males and one female. She sat in the front seat and I both envied and felt sympathetic for her. The entire front row of potential new Marines tried their very best pick-up lines on her and to strike up a conversation. They all fell flat. Most of the other males were asleep, but not that row. They seemed to enjoy annoying her.
The other guys in front of me were both talking excessively about how they were going to thrive in boot camp and that the recruiters had prepared them to be the best of the best. They almost seemed to puff out there chests a little bit more in trying to play the game of one ups-manship. Both seemed rather regular to me and the guy next to them suggested that he was going to become a platoon guide. I didn't even know what that meant.
"Hey, Florida Boy is awake." I looked at him confusingly and said, "how did you know I was from Florida? " He smirked, as if he was very convincingly going to tell me he was a prophet and replied " Your wallet was on the floor of the van and I opened it up." Thanks.... Do you have it? He reached over and passed it along , also careful to mention that I had no money in it. Which was true. I had come to be nearly and entirely penniless.
Thirty-miles...
I began to think about the phone call I given my parents the afternoon before. They were wondering why I was leaving back to Birmingham, Alabama so soon after Christmas. I called just as I reached Birmingham to tell them my choice of enlisting in the United States Marine Corps. I hid my enlistment for a few reasons. The first being, I had mentioned to other friends that I was enlisting to only be replied with ... "yeah.. right" or YOU!?" As if it was entirely out of the realm of reality for me to become a Marine. I suppose they were right. I was a musician and cared more about being fashionable than I had ever cared about serving my country. I was not very aggressive or athletic. In fact, I could do only 3 pull-ups and ran a mile in about 9 1/2 minutes.
I picked up the phone and dialed. My mom answered and I asked if Dad was around. He gets on the on the line and I proceed to tell them the news of my enlistment. My dad asked if I chosen infantry and my mom just cried. After all, we were at war in Iraq and Afghanistan. I assured them that my choice was a job in logistics and that in the entire three year period of the war so far, none from that job field (also called MOS) had died. At least not in combat. My dad seemed to be proud of me for making a choice, even at age 25, to serve my country and pay for college.
15 miles...
Doris yells in a deep chain smoker's voice , " grab your things and prepare yourself. We are about to come on base. Last chance to bail boys! I will slow down and open the van door and you can roll out." No one answered. It was eerily quiet. Then a a guy sprang up from the seat behind me, as if he was coming alive from a dead sleep, his head hitting the top of the roof of the van. "How far out!? I've got to call my girl." I pulled my cell phone from my pocket and offered it to him. His name was Drew and he was a former Georgia Tech basketball player we had picked up in Atlanta. Easily 6'8 and hands that could fit around my entire face. "Thanks man.. name is Drew."
It was in that moment that I knew we were all about to be connected to a much larger moment. I see the gates of Parris Island and the van slows down and pulls into a station. "Sorry boys and girls, I cannot take you on base, but you are going to load up on this bus in front of us. I have ticket from this base and I am not allowed to drive on base"...
We load up on the bus and of course all of the front seats are free... lucky us. I end sitting in the fifth seat from the front right next to the lone female from our van. She smiles and says in a thick country girl accent.." Hi.. I'm Brandy. I am from your neck of the woods. Just up the road in Fountain, Florida. " I start to reply with my own details as the door the bus closes and the driver tells us to look down at our feet and keep our mouths shut. The buss goes dark and silent. You could hear sniffles, heartbeats, and feel the palpable tension upon the bus. I glance at my watch and it is close to midnight as the bus pulls onto the base. For the first time in my life, the meaning of surreal was happening to me right here and now. It would be a feeling that would happen again and again during my time in the Marine Corps, that was the only thing I was assured of. We drive under a large sign that simply states... We Make Marines. Yeah nothing ominous or foreboding about that at all.
The bus makes several turns and finally comes to a halt in front a large brick building, with a huge metallic silver face with letters written in gold. From the angle we are slowing, I cannot make out what it says. The bus stops and the door opens. I see the top of his green drill instructors hat begin to crest the stair case and asks the driver for some information. You could tangibly feel the difference on the base go from tense to petrified. The young Marine Sergeant steps to the top of the stairs and gets started on a very rehearsed, but sharp and crisp speech about what was going to happen next. I sit up and look out the window, my gaze now transfixed, at the sign above the building. It says
"Through these portals pass prospects for America's finest fighting force. United States Marines."
I had missed most of what the drill instructor had said... but the phrase... "GET OFF MY BUS AND GO STAND ON MY YELLOW FOOTPRINTS" certainly got my attention. The bus shouted together, SIR AYE SIR! The rush of activity and sound of people almost falling over one another was nearly comical, if we all had not been so scared. We were all together and moving, sloppily, towards getting off of the bus. I look down and see the footprints. I move with a purpose towards my mark and align my feet, placing my hands down the seam of my jeans. I was now standing at the position of attention. The cold night air hit my face and I stared at the back of the head in front of me. I was here now and there was no turning back. I will finish what I start and the journey would take me where I needed to go. I was all in on being a United States Marine. These yellow footprints were now sacred ground to me.
