June 27, 1997 - Privacy? Not in Boot Camp

970629 - Friday was 100 degrees. That's all that happened Fri. (Note: I have left out the next two days' summaries because tomorrow's is kind of a big one and I didn't want to give too much away. Tune in tomorrow!)

Because I'm sick of talking about the weather, and because I don't remember what else might have happened June 27, 1997, I thought I would instead write about how I'm pretty sure the Drill Instructors knew about, and probably read, my journal.

Throughout boot camp, nearly all of our belongings were issued to us. We had government-issued uniforms, of course, but so much more was issued to us than just uniforms. We had government-issued glasses, which you may recall were named "portholes." We also called them BC glasses. "Oh, as in 'boot camp.' I get it." No, not as in boot camp, as in "birth control" because they were the ugliest frames you've ever seen and were certain to keep the ladies well away. We also had government-issued socks, underwear, undershirts, and jock straps; government-issued sneakers (go-fasters), boots, belts, and buckles.

In addition to the government-issued gear, we made periodic trips to a stripped-down version of a PX (port exchange; a base store) and purchased matching toothbrushes, toothpaste, razors, shave gel, deodorant, soap, brass polish, boot polish, pens, etc. Nearly every possession was issued or purchased placed an emphasis on stripping away our individuality. The only possessions that we kept with us that were not identical to the rest of the platoon were to be kept in a small pouch that was kept in our footlockers (I should say here that, early in boot camp, my parents mailed me my Bible which I was allowed to have and keep loose in my footlocker, as were the other recruits who had religious texts like that). The bag was called a "money-valuables bag" because that's pretty much all that was in it. It held my wallet, my newly-issued debit card (which was taken out only when we made trips to the PX), and my civilian glasses. Well, that's all it would have held, if I were a normal recruit. I however, was not normal, which is why my money-valuables bag also held a small, Wallace and Gromit Book of Notes. You see, we had been told on our first day that the Drill Instructors would never open our money-valuables bags. Therefore, I concluded that this must be the safest place to keep it.

The thing is, there is absolutely no way that the Drill Instructors didn't go through every recruit's money-valuables bag. What if the recruit had contraband in it? What if he was slowly sharpening a knife taken from the mess hall so that he could stab a Drill Instructor or, worse yet, another recruit or himself? This kind of thing could not be allowed to happen, so I have no doubt that the money valuables bags were checked regularly. I know the DIs regularly looked through our footlockers, so why not also check the bags?

This is why, despite the fact that I frequently had the desire to call the DIs something other than "a real jerk" I limited myself to that. Nonetheless, I don't think it's mere coincidence that, just a day or two after the first time I called Sgt. M______ a real jerk in my journal, he came up to me and told me I would pay, without even bothering to make up a reason.

Aside from that seemingly from-nowhere trip to the pit, though, the Drill Instructors never let on that they were reading along. So, it's completely possible (even likely) that they took a quick glance at it early on, saw that it was harmless, and never gave it a second thought.

But, I would like to believe that they did read it. I'd like to think they checked it daily, looking for their names to be mentioned and finding arbitrary reasons to punish me if they didn't like what they read. So I guess in this fantasy, my journal is Facebook, and the DIs are all teenaged girls.