From Suffering Servant To "Yes Your Majesty"

Standing just in view of the steps of the bus that will take him to the infamous Paris Island is an eighteen-year-old young man with his mother, father and younger brother. The Marine band is playing the Marine’s Hymn and the Marine Honor Guard is standing at attention supporting the colors of the United States of America, The Marine Corps, The Veterans of Foreign Wars and the POW/MIA. Each Marine dazzles his little brother with their shiny black shoes, pressed blue uniforms with edges that could cut like a knife, shiny brass buttons and clean white hats, and most are holding their rifles tight to their sides as they look straight ahead without influence from their surroundings. These are the few and the proud, members of the most elite military force on Earth, the toughest men and women to be found anywhere, these are the backbone of our nations defense earning all of the honor of being called Marines.

His mother sheds her silent tears with the realization that her little boy has grown up into a fine young man. His dad stands silently because he knows what his boy is about to face but he also has an elated since of pride in knowing that his young son is going to be a proud marine. His little brother looks up to him in a new way because he knows that when he comes back he will be wearing the uniform just like all the others marching around, he thinks with pride "my brother-the Marine".

He has no problem holding his head high and his back straight, in fact his chest sticks out much further than it normally does. Caught up in the emotion of the moment he recognizes himself as one of the big men marching outside or as the guys in the movies, he sees himself already as the great, honorable and victorious Marine.

Soon the doors on the Greyhound swing shut and slowly they begin to move down the road on to the infamous Paris Island, South Carolina where Marines are made. The bus is full of young men his age, all of which are looking forward with the same dreams of glory and honor like the recruiting officers had convinced them of. Because of their new surroundings they each one are trying to bluff their way to the groups respect by displaying their toughness and wit.

The whole group is fairly well psyched up about the whole idea of being a Marine. Pride is running high as they pass the sign saying, "welcome to Paris Island". The bus comes to a stop and out the window our young recruit can see dozens of painted footprints all in perfect rows. He stares in a shallow state of confusion at the men standing outside the bus dressed in green. His trance is violently broken as the doors of the bus swing open and men rush onto the bus screaming at each recruit they pass ordering them to get off the bus faster and faster. Finally one man looks at our young man nose to nose and screams for him to move when he is told to move. When he doesn’t move quick enough he finds himself being roughly helped out of his seat and off the bus with the man’s fog-horn voice constantly going off with insults in his ear. What could be wrong, he wonders.

When all the men are off the buses the men come screaming at them again ordering them to stand on the footprints that make out their platoon’s formation. Our young man’s feet are not perfectly on the footprints so one of the men "help" him into position. Someone in the formation asks a question and earns an immediate, screaming response from one of the men in green "You gotta question, You gotta question, recruit you don’t have no questions is that understood-IS THAT UNDERSTOOD" "yeah" "What, you address me as sir is that understood" "yes sir" "What, I can’t hear you" "YES SIR" "Recruit that will be SIR, YES SIR from now on is that understood" the nervous and confused recruit barks back "SIR, YES SIR" and the man in green moves on.

Our young man feels what most of the men in the formation are feeling, "Did I come to the wrong place?, What in the world have I gotten myself into?". His trance is once again broken when in front of the line he sees a man with the face of a bulldog wearing a tan uniform covered with medals and a straight brim hat with the Marine insignia on the front. On his arms are stripes, three that point up and three that point down. When the men finally have all the recruits in the position they want them in the man with the bulldog face begins to "bark". "My name is Sergeant Coonts. For the next twelve weeks you belong to me…you will address me as Sergeant Coonts Sir…you will obey all of my orders, those who choose not to follow all my orders choose to pay the consequences…this is your platoon, for the next twelve weeks they will be your family, you will eat together, sleep together, play together and work together, you will function as one group, if one of you messes up the whole platoon will pay the price…"