July 23, 1997 - GAS! GAS! GAS!
Note: While at Basic Warrior Training, I was unable to write in my journal (the horror!), so I have one long entry that covers all three days. In order not to spoil anything here, I will only include the journal entry portion relevant to the given day.
Every year, Marines are required to go through the gas chamber. This is because, since World War I the threat of chemical warfare is very real. Later in my career in the Marines, I would even teach classes on responding to nuclear, chemical, and biological attacks. But not just yet. For now, I just had to make it through the gas chamber.
As the journal indicates, right before heading into the gas chamber, we were given a class on it. Essentially, we were given very clear and specific instructions on how to don and clear the gas mask, as well as a step-by-step run down of what was going to happen in the gas chamber. Throughout the class, and every minute between it and when I actually entered the chamber, I just kept telling myself: "You'll be fine. Thousands of recruits and tens of thousands of Marines go through this every year, and no one has ever died in it. You'll be fine" Now, it's worth noting that I actually didn't know if anyone had died in the gas chamber. I had just convinced myself that Marines would never command other Marines to do something that might kill them. Because, you know, Marines don't do dangerous things.
Anyway, at long last, after having sufficiently repeated my "You'll be fine" mantra, the time came for me to head into the gas chamber.
The chamber itself is a small room, about 20 feet square, with no windows and two doors on either end of one wall. We lined up in front of the door to the right. We donned our masks, tightened the straps, and headed into the chamber. As we entered, we lined the three non-door walls. Then the door was closed.
I looked around the room. Aside from the recruits lining three walls (probably about 20 of us, but maybe more), there were three or four Drill Instructors. They were in full HazMat suits and masks so I have no idea whether or not any of them was one of our Drill Instructors. They lit a small canister of CS gas (tear gas) and I watched as the smoke began to fill the room. Immediately, a recruit to me right began panicking. Apparently, his mask hadn't been properly sealed around his face. He was now jumping up and down, choking. A Drill Instructor went over to him and helped him fix his mask.
We were then instructed to bend over at the waist and shake our heads vigorously, side to side, then up and down. This was to ensure that our masks were on securely. As I did this, I started to notice that my skin was burning, especially where the straps of the mask pressed against my head. It felt as though I had small burns all along my scalp. I then noticed that my neck was burning too. Thankfully, though, I could still breathe.
But not for long.
The instructor told us what was about to happen: he was going to tell us all to loosen the lower straps, then pull our masks up from our faces and rest them on our heads. Once every recruit had his mask off, he would give the command, "GAS! GAS! GAS!" at which time we would don our masks, tighten the straps, clear them of bad air, then begin breathing again. And so, he ordered us to remove our masks.
I took a deep breath, closed my eyes tightly, and pulled my mask off of my face. Instantly, my face, which had been sweating under the mask, began to burn. I heard the struggles and chokes of recruits and the mask-muffled yells of Drill Instructors chastising them for losing their bearing. As my ability to hold my breath got more and more challenging, the instructor kept saying, "I'm still waiting for that last recruit to take off his mask." Of course, I had no way of knowing if he was telling the truth or not; it's not like I could open my eyes and check. Instead, I stood there, my brain screaming at me to breathe and not to breathe.
It's at about this time that I had the thought, absolutely certain in my mind: "I'm going to be the first. I'm going to die here. This is it."
Somehow, though, I didn't die. And eventually, the instructor did yell "GAS! GAS! GAS" and I pulled my mask over my face, remembering not to breathe until I had cleared the mask. I forgot, however, about keeping my eyes closed until the mask was clear.
I opened my eyes and felt an instant, searing burning. It was so shocking that it caused me to gasp, inhaling a maskful of tear gas.
When you go to boot camp, you spend every waking and sleeping moment surrounded by 65+ other recruits from all over the country. All of you bring with you various germs from which you've long since grown immune. Everyone else, however, has not. Essentially, the entire platoon has a slight cold and a good bit of congestion for most of boot camp. Well, in that brief gasp of air, and the quick choking cough that followed it, I managed to clear my sinuses of two and a half months of mucus build up, all inside my gas mask.
I eventually cleared my mask (of tear gas, though unfortunately not of the gallon of snot), and began breathing normally, if a bit wetly.
We were then instructed to take our masks off completely and to hold them at our waists until given the command to don and clear them once again. This time, some of the tear gas had dissipated and I was able to take short, shallow breaths until instructed to don and clear. Also, this time around, I cleared the mask properly; that's a mistake you only make once.
Once we were done with that, we were instructed to face the right, place a hand on the shoulder of the recruit in front of us, then remove our masks and walk along the wall to the exit. Upon exiting, we were to sound off as loudly as we could with our name and platoon: "Recruit Bailey! Platoon 1068!" This was to get us breathing clear air, as well as to show that we could still function, at least a little bit.
We headed to large trash cans filled with water and washed our faces, being careful not to rub our face or eyes.
I was never so thankful to be breathing again, especially since I could breathe so clearly now. In short, if you're looking to relieve sinus build-up without the use of medicine, I've got just what you need.
970724 - Mon: morning, nothing really. Afternoon: moved out to bivouac area for BWT, set up hooches (tents). Evening: 6 mile night hump (hike)...very challenging. Tue: Morning: Mock PFT (7 pull-ups, 87 sit-ups, 20:40 run), rappelling off a 47 foot tower once with a wall, once as a free fall (FUN!); Afternoon: classes on tactical weapons, Laws of War; Evening: moved to a cabin because of the threat of lightning, M______ was on duty...Wednesday: Morning: class on Gas Chamber, Gas Chamber (we got in there w/ our masks on and they lit the gas. We then pulled our masks off over our heads for about 1 min. I was really struggling! We then put our masks back on and cleared the masks but I was still choking a little and my eyes were burning bad. We then removed our masks completely and waited until they said to put them back on (1 min). This time wasn't so bad. We then faced right, removed our masks and walked out of the room. Afternoon: Classes on field sanitation; camouflage, cover, and concealment. Platoon 1070 challenged us to a short drill competition and we swabbed the deck with their butts! Moved back "home." Evening: V__________ on duty and really jerky.Aside from the general "what's going to happen to me" fears that I had before going to boot camp, nothing filled me with more apprehension and, at times, dread than the gas chamber. It made regular appearances in my worst-case-scenarios that played through my head in the year between enlisting and actually going to boot camp.
Every year, Marines are required to go through the gas chamber. This is because, since World War I the threat of chemical warfare is very real. Later in my career in the Marines, I would even teach classes on responding to nuclear, chemical, and biological attacks. But not just yet. For now, I just had to make it through the gas chamber.
As the journal indicates, right before heading into the gas chamber, we were given a class on it. Essentially, we were given very clear and specific instructions on how to don and clear the gas mask, as well as a step-by-step run down of what was going to happen in the gas chamber. Throughout the class, and every minute between it and when I actually entered the chamber, I just kept telling myself: "You'll be fine. Thousands of recruits and tens of thousands of Marines go through this every year, and no one has ever died in it. You'll be fine" Now, it's worth noting that I actually didn't know if anyone had died in the gas chamber. I had just convinced myself that Marines would never command other Marines to do something that might kill them. Because, you know, Marines don't do dangerous things.
Anyway, at long last, after having sufficiently repeated my "You'll be fine" mantra, the time came for me to head into the gas chamber.
The chamber itself is a small room, about 20 feet square, with no windows and two doors on either end of one wall. We lined up in front of the door to the right. We donned our masks, tightened the straps, and headed into the chamber. As we entered, we lined the three non-door walls. Then the door was closed.
I looked around the room. Aside from the recruits lining three walls (probably about 20 of us, but maybe more), there were three or four Drill Instructors. They were in full HazMat suits and masks so I have no idea whether or not any of them was one of our Drill Instructors. They lit a small canister of CS gas (tear gas) and I watched as the smoke began to fill the room. Immediately, a recruit to me right began panicking. Apparently, his mask hadn't been properly sealed around his face. He was now jumping up and down, choking. A Drill Instructor went over to him and helped him fix his mask.
We were then instructed to bend over at the waist and shake our heads vigorously, side to side, then up and down. This was to ensure that our masks were on securely. As I did this, I started to notice that my skin was burning, especially where the straps of the mask pressed against my head. It felt as though I had small burns all along my scalp. I then noticed that my neck was burning too. Thankfully, though, I could still breathe.
But not for long.
The instructor told us what was about to happen: he was going to tell us all to loosen the lower straps, then pull our masks up from our faces and rest them on our heads. Once every recruit had his mask off, he would give the command, "GAS! GAS! GAS!" at which time we would don our masks, tighten the straps, clear them of bad air, then begin breathing again. And so, he ordered us to remove our masks.
I took a deep breath, closed my eyes tightly, and pulled my mask off of my face. Instantly, my face, which had been sweating under the mask, began to burn. I heard the struggles and chokes of recruits and the mask-muffled yells of Drill Instructors chastising them for losing their bearing. As my ability to hold my breath got more and more challenging, the instructor kept saying, "I'm still waiting for that last recruit to take off his mask." Of course, I had no way of knowing if he was telling the truth or not; it's not like I could open my eyes and check. Instead, I stood there, my brain screaming at me to breathe and not to breathe.
It's at about this time that I had the thought, absolutely certain in my mind: "I'm going to be the first. I'm going to die here. This is it."
Somehow, though, I didn't die. And eventually, the instructor did yell "GAS! GAS! GAS" and I pulled my mask over my face, remembering not to breathe until I had cleared the mask. I forgot, however, about keeping my eyes closed until the mask was clear.
I opened my eyes and felt an instant, searing burning. It was so shocking that it caused me to gasp, inhaling a maskful of tear gas.
When you go to boot camp, you spend every waking and sleeping moment surrounded by 65+ other recruits from all over the country. All of you bring with you various germs from which you've long since grown immune. Everyone else, however, has not. Essentially, the entire platoon has a slight cold and a good bit of congestion for most of boot camp. Well, in that brief gasp of air, and the quick choking cough that followed it, I managed to clear my sinuses of two and a half months of mucus build up, all inside my gas mask.
I eventually cleared my mask (of tear gas, though unfortunately not of the gallon of snot), and began breathing normally, if a bit wetly.
We were then instructed to take our masks off completely and to hold them at our waists until given the command to don and clear them once again. This time, some of the tear gas had dissipated and I was able to take short, shallow breaths until instructed to don and clear. Also, this time around, I cleared the mask properly; that's a mistake you only make once.
Once we were done with that, we were instructed to face the right, place a hand on the shoulder of the recruit in front of us, then remove our masks and walk along the wall to the exit. Upon exiting, we were to sound off as loudly as we could with our name and platoon: "Recruit Bailey! Platoon 1068!" This was to get us breathing clear air, as well as to show that we could still function, at least a little bit.
We headed to large trash cans filled with water and washed our faces, being careful not to rub our face or eyes.
I was never so thankful to be breathing again, especially since I could breathe so clearly now. In short, if you're looking to relieve sinus build-up without the use of medicine, I've got just what you need.
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