In February of 1991, I thought about my future. I thought about joining the Marine Corps. I didn’t think much about it aside from leaving home. I really wanted out and away. I thought this would be a great way to get out on my own and truly start my life as my own and not as a dependent.
My parents drove me to Plattsburgh, NY and I met with a Ssgt. Griswold. He was a nice guy. Since I was 17 and still in High School, I was placed in the DEP, or Delayed Entry Program. That meant that I would meet up with them once a month or every other month and do activities and learn a little more about the Marine Corps. One time we went white water rafting, another time we played softball, another time we did a mock PFT or Physical Fitness Test.
He would often drive up to Montreal to come pick me up. He was easy to talk to.
The educational requirement to join the Marine Corps is to have a High School Diploma, which kind of works weird in my case. Being a US Citizen but living in Montreal, gave me a different education. My last year at Marymount was a fail from Canadian education but a pass for US education. Canadian education requires their students to pass in French and Religion.
So though I technically finished US equivalent high school in 1991, I had to go to another school come September of 1991. I talked with the Principal and they put me in a crash course. I repeated a bunch of other classes too because it was a technical Canadian fail of the year.
Around December I talked with the school counselor and had him write a note that said that if i was in US school, I would be a graduate. My Ssgt took this as I’m ready. I took this as “I don’t have to do shit for the next few months!”
I partied, hung out with my girlfriend, hung out with my friends, and one day in early March of 1992, I got a call about 6pm. “Carmelo, you ready? You ship out March 21st. You start Marine Corps bootcamp on March 22, 1992.”
I was! I was ready, I was excited, I was sad, I was happy, I had so many mixed emotions. I told my mom. I called Shannon and let her know, I called Kelvin. Wow, the rush of emotions bombarding me. I’m happy I’m finally leaving. I’m sad I’m leaving. I hope I do well! I hope I don’t mess up. Can I even run 3 miles? We should have parties until I leave! I should get a tattoo! I should have sex!
I spent time with my family and friends. Worked out even more so at the gym. I didn’t know what was on the road ahead for me. I knew there was going to be some physical challenges for me. Mentally, I had already conquered boot camp.
On March 18th, 1992, Kelvin and I went to get me a tattoo. It was my first tattoo! A scorpion on my left bicep. I did want to get a Marine Corps tattoo, but I thought it through and decided I should wait until I graduate from boot camp and actually have the title. How stupid would it look if I couldn’t make it.
On March 19th, 1992, Shannon had a party for me. A small fair-well party at her apartment. Her parents weren’t home and there was our friends over, so there was Shannon, Celine, Isabelle, Kim and Kim (guy). They cooked me a chicken and rice dinner, I also got a whole bottle of tequila.
We did shots, I ate my awesome meal, and we all sat around and talked. We all had plans to meet at PJs, a pub about a mile away and I was going to meet Kelvin over there. So I told everybody I was gonna run over there. They were all cool. Kim, the guy one, said “what about all this tequila?”
Well, I couldn’t let them down, could I? I grabbed the bottle, opened it, took a deep breath and then chugged the whole bottle. They were amazed! I was all “no sweat!”, gave kisses and all that jazz and jogged the mile over to PJs.
Learn from my fail! Right here! NEVER DRINK A WHOLE BOTTLE OF TEQUILA AND JOG A MILE. The alcohol just consumes you and you truly make an ass out of yourself. Not that I cared much about image, but on my last day before leaving, your friends will not want to hang out with the guy who is covered in his own vomit and trying to hug and kiss you. They will do anything to make sure you don’t kill yourself, but would rather not have to touch you.
Yeah, no sex either.
My mom drove me bright and early to Plattsburgh. Bright and early is right! I think we left at 6am. I was sad, probably a little hungover too. We got stopped at the border because of some weird thing about my mom being Canadian, me being American, and our car with New York tags. An hour later we got let through and I met up with Ssgt Griswold and a Sgt Baird. Baird was the new guy taking over for Griswold. I asked where he was headed off to. Guess what he said.
The armpit of the United States. Some shit hole called Yuma Arizona. Well, I wished him luck. I probably would never see him again.
I said my good bye’s to my mom and I cried a little inside. The Marines put me on a bus to Albany New York where I was going to stay the night. The bus ride was a 3 hour ride. I had some paper that told me which hotel to stay at. I got to the hotel and after an hour, someone else showed up. We were sharing rooms. Matt was the guys name.
We talked a bit and made friends. We met another guy, super tall! He looked like Harold Ramis from Ghost Busters but was a lot taller. I think he was 7′ something”.
The next day we flew into South Carolina and it was dark. I smoked my last cigarette in the airport. A Marine walked up and started collecting us all, there was about 200 people. I guess he could tell because non of us had anything other than our wallets and we were at an airport in South Carolina at 1am. He had us go to the bathroom and told us to get rid of any contraband. Cigarettes, gum, lighters, matches, weapons, etc. He made us stand in a foundation and told us to shut up or else. Nobody wanted to know what ‘or else’ was, so we were quiet.
Those of us who showed up with our USMC t-shirts were told to take them off and put them on inside out. I guess we weren’t privileged anymore to wear our own clothes. We were herded onto a bunch of buses and told to shut up. There was some whispers about ‘try to get sleep now because you won’t sleep until tomorrow’. Some could, but I couldn’t. I just stared out the window.
The next 13 weeks were a cluster-fuck of commands and orders, exercises and lessons, led by the Awesome Senior Drill Instructor Staff Sergeant Squires (that’s what we were told to call him), and his henchmen, Sgt Bailey, Sgt Hodgin, and Sgt Schaeffer. As the definition of most Drill Instructors, they were mean fuckin’ assholes, but you truly do respect them in the end. All of it fun, except the stress levels. It wasn’t really that bad though. Sure as heck was better than how my step-father treated me. I’ll never forget the person I stood behind. We all had to stand pretty close. D. Vostinak was the name on the sweater in front of me when we stood in alphabetical order.
I was a squad leader for a little bit and did pretty well. I graduated just like everybody else on June 19, 1992, earning my Eagle, Globe and Anchor. There were some faces in my platoon and the sister platoons that I knew I could hit it off with.
I got to go home for 10 days. It was a great 10 days. I visited a lot of friends and it was over before I knew it. I hopped on a plane and flew to North Carolina to start BWT, or Basic Warrior Training. We were going to be in Marine Corps Base, Camp LeJeune. I reported in on June 29th, 1992. It was a lot of fun and we could finally socialize with everybody.
Everybody there graduated bootcamp on the same day I did. That’s when I truly met John Rivera, Mike O’Neil, and Jeff Graham. I was in platoon 1056, John in 1057, and Jeff in 1058. I forget which platoon Mike was in. I think 1061. We were all Charlie company. We talked about how we saw each other in boot camp. John often recalls seeing me in the gas chamber and how I cried. Honestly though, that shit sucked, and you can’t help but cry and watch all your snot run out your face!
BWT was only a month long and we got our orders right after. I was open contract, so they could put me anywhere they wanted or needed me to go. I got aviation ordnance. After we all got our orders, we all found out we were going to the same place and were all aviation ordnance.
When I say all, I’m just talking about John, Jeff, Mike and I. We all flew to Memphis to be stationed at NAS Millington. We did AO, or Aviation Ordnance School there. It was a general school on aircraft weapons and defense systems and we learned a bit on schematics, bombs, etc.
While I was in BWT, I got a lot of chigger bites on my legs. I guess they got infected, as I was in AO school, my legs fell asleep one day from a lot of scratching and they wouldn’t wake up for a whole week! That sucked because I had to walk to medical and then to school, then back to the barracks. The guys and I did a lot of hanging out and going everywhere we could. Hitting the Brass Rail (a strip club) and drinking until we threw up was pretty common every night.
When we finished and got our certificates from AO school, we got our orders for the next level. Weapons II. We, John, Jeff, Mike and I, were going to meet up in North Carolina in Cherry Point. We learned quite a bit and as normal, partied and went everywhere we could. We played a lot of pranks on each other like wetting the bed sheets and putting them in the freezer. We sure were a bunch of idiots! But we were smart idiots who got paid to work on aircraft weapons and defense systems! Once we completed Weapons II, we got our orders. Aviation Ordnance Technicians at VMA-311, in Yuma, Arizona!
I got off the plane in Yuma Arizona, it was about 8pm and over 100 degrees outside. Damn, what a shit-hole I thought to myself. Well, I guess I’m home. I checked into a hotel nearby for the night and bright and early the next day, showed up to MCAS Yuma, arrived at VMA-311, then was sent to the barracks.
Every place you go, you normally have a check in\check out sheet that needs to be signed by everybody. Medical, Dental, the Armory, Supply, Admin (most important for pay), chow hall, etc. I happened to see a person that I knew from Memphis and he gave me a ride around to all the locations.
My shop was just off to the side of the main hangar. I had a cocky attitude as I had high marks in my classes. They quickly dropped me in my place. It was all good though. I was much of a goof ball as I always was. But I did my job and I did my job very well.
We did a bit of traveling. My list of places grew. Here are all the places I’ve been during my enlistment
- Parris Island, South Carolina
- Montreal, Quebec (Vacation)
- Camp LeJeune, North Carolina
- Memphis, Tennessee
- Havelock, North Carolina
- New York (Vacation)
- Yuma, Arizona
- Klammath Falls, Oregon
- Bogue field, North Carolina
- Miramar, California
- Iwakuni, Japan
- Okinawa, Japan
- Darwin, Australia
- Montreal, Quebec (Bereavement leave)
- 29 Palms, California
- Gulf Port, Mississippi
- Pensacola, Florida (Vacation)
I had met someone and got married a few months later on January 19, 1996. In February, John left the Marine Corps to go back home to Florida. Jeff re-enlisted, I counted my days until I got out as a Corporal on March 22, 1996 with Mike.
Here are my medals and ribbons
As the dawn of the Internet came about, I started trying to locate my brothers. I had joined websites but things were bleak. There was a few forums out there that I knew people. Like Justin Neu and Don Stewart. It seemed that others were lost. If you read this page, you’ll know I am or was always trying to be on the forefront of technology. I had a Facebook page early on and tried to locate everyone. My efforts were crap, then I created a VMA-311 group, a VMA311 page and some other fun stuff and before you know it, you can see I have a bunch of people who are now re-united.
In 2009, I found and re-united with John and Mike. We all can’t find Jeff.
I created this one for fun and good times
