[I love telling my boot camp stories just because we were so special ] Well, we were fucked and we knew it. Recruits in our platoon were dropping like flies. Preparing for the inspection almost seemed impossible, and our knowledge DI had a thick mumbling ghetto accent that we couldn't understand. Turns out he was just a back-up kill hat, so it was probably on purpose.That left us with 1 pyscho Senior Drill Instructor, and 3 kill hats. See, our platoon was special. We were special because we were the last platoon in the follow series which ment we were the fucking retards who just passed MEPs and got to come to boot at a wink of an eye. Most of the recruits were either over-weight, retarded, or spoke broken english. We failed at everything except drill, hence we got broken off a lot in the pit and the quarterdeck. However, our SDI was ALL ABOUT drill. If we weren't perfect....and I mean PERFECT, we got IT'ed until we passed out. The only way to save us was to 'pop sticks' (rifle manual) and march like we were God's very own army.Our platoon was small too.... around 30-40 people at any given time. We got lots of personal attention. I myself got quarter-decked and pitted at least 40-50 times... and I was one of the good recruits. Shit, we started with 68...dropped 45 and picked up the other recruits along the way. Anyway, since we really sucked... which was probably from getting shitted on so much and not learning, we had to prepare ourselves for this inspection. No one really knew what it was going to be like, but the day rolled its way around. The perfect phrase in boot camp is "you can't stop time". That statement was true, but they could sure make 'time' hurt. The day gets here and everything was shining to a tee. So clean and ready to be touched by the all mighty series commander, 1st Lt Hernandez. We're all lined up on line in our brand new alpha uniforms, looking sharp and standing tall. A lot of us were unprepared for the questions being asked of us. Things we had drilled in our heads for a month and a half straight. But that's okay, recruits were going to draw a blank under pressure. We knew that. All the platoons were going to have a few freeze up. Well this is where our beloved "Recruit Torres" and "Recruit Cruz" come to play. My beloved broken english mexican / puerto ricans come in. These guys were absolutly in there to just slide through. Go right through the cracks by being short and standing in the back of formations and not sounding off. Boy were they wrong. We were wrong as a platoon to let them get cocky. 1st Lt slams his heels together as he faces Recruit Torres. He then asks him his rifle serial, some knowlege.... which he gets most of them wrong. No big deal, we'll get pitted or something for it. We're all used to being on the verge of death anyway. We'll forgive you Recruit Torres. But then, a personal.... very touchy question is asked that any recruit would piss his pants if he got it wrong. "Who is your Series Commander?" This motherfucker can't answer the question. He stays calm, like he knows what he's doing but his voice is looking for answers. His eyes are shooting around the room... a sign of losing his bearing. Sweat is coming from his brow now and the Series Commander smacks the recruit's rifle back to him. Now, we didn't know if the Senior heard about this yet, or if he was watching. We had no idea the storm...no.... the hell that was going to be unleashed on us. We were ordered to change out of our Alpha's and put them on a rack behind our bunk racks and then change into our cammies once again. We did so... and we didn't think we did that bad seeing this is how they were treating us. However, all of a sudden when we're standing online the senior explodes out of the SDI office with the drill instructors. For some reason or another I remember myself being at the rear of the squadbay for some reason. I think we had just 'crushed' the house (pushing racks together as fast as possible to one end of the barracks). The Senior/DIs just starts fucking ripping apart the squad bay. Tearing down racks, ripping apart blankets and sheets, breaking the fuck out of the foot lockers, throwing our hygiene bags/shoes/shower shoes/ICB boots all over the place. All of a sudden the Senior starts ripping open our body bags and thowing our ALPHAs on the ground and yelling about how we don't deserve the uniform, how we're all pieces of shit....etc...etc... just completely going crazy. Never seen anything like it in my life. The squadbay is turning into bad shape. There's shaving cream everywhere..... soap, etc. Then all of a sudden Senior leaves....he took the serie's guide-on flag that we won on drill to the head (bathroom) and pissed all over it and broke the wood in half that held it up. You could consider that the eye of the storm. What the hell does he do next? He's carrying our cooler full of water and he's got bottle of GAIN laundry detergant in his arms. OH HELL NO! This guy slings all the water over everything in the squadbay and covers it all with the detergant and shaving cream. Our footlockers are all dumped, all the racks are turned over..... the place looked like complete shit. THEN on his rampage he takes the SCRIBE'S desk and hurls parts of it at us on the squad bay deck... the thing just shatters into wooden pieces everywhere. Papers everywhere, pens, markers, files, etc. We just stood there in awe. Our senior drill instructor just ruined 1/2 the platoons uniforms. But that wasn't our concern. We had no stuff left, and we were scavengers. We had 5 minutes to clean everything up. we got it almost done but one of the DIs I think had sympathy for us (it was that bad... a guy who LOVED to fuck us up showed a little concern). Recruit Torres spent the next two days getting broken off on the quarter deck eating 'hot trays' and paying with his sweat, standing....starring at the wall for days straight. I don't even want to tell you the things he had to do. He eventually went crazy those two days and went to the mental hospital. He had a look in his eyes that I would never forget and would never want to experience. He wasn't coming back. But we learned and were told that our SDI was never professionally embarrassed like he was when someone didn't even know the Series commander's name when he was standing right in front of the recruit. The End. Cliffs: Inspection mess.