The power of smell....

Sometimes, when I am sitting outside,  watching my kids play, enjoying the cool night air, eating dinner or sitting with my husband and having a beer,  the wind blows and I catch a scent of something familiar, that almost always slams me back to a place in time that is now 15 years in my past. 15 years that seem like a lifetime ago, a space in my life where, for the first time ever I was on my own, away from my family, a period in time where my life and my memories would not be shared with them, the first time that I would realize that I was separate from them.  

It's the smell that reminds me of Parris Island, a smell that is distinct in it's own right.  The smell of swamp gases and pine trees, it's the smell of night fire, and night humps. It takes me back to being a scared shit-less 18 year old. 

The memories start with the boarding of the plane from LaGuardia Airport,  the second time in my life I had been on a plane. The furthest I had ever been from home at this point, was summers in Maine with my Aunt Pennie and my cousins, and the trip I had taken almost a year before to see my brother become a Marine on the same grounds that I was about to walk.  I remember the butterflies in my stomach, the baggy white t-shirt I wore. The jeans that were too tight because I was overweight, my no name Cal-dor sneakers. I remember being with a big guy who I had met during the DEP meetings, though I can no longer recall his name.

I remember going over everything my older brother had told me about what to expect, because he had made the same journey 10 months before. I remember the Marines meeting us in the airport and bringing us to a room where we would wait for more recruits and where we would had to give up all our contraband. Contraband being anything from pens, paper and gum, wristwatches, and the like.  I remember the room, it had chairs and a plastic table and juice, no soda, no candy, no chips. Our 13 weeks had begun. I remember the bus ride, under the cover of darkness, and going through the gates, and my first glimpse of my new home. Even though  I had been to Parris Island when my older brother had graduated boot camp but it wasn't the same as it was this night the awe and fear I felt. I remember the feeling in the pit of my stomach, the nerves, knowing what was coming. 

I am thrown right back to the last look at the boy who came down with me and saying good luck. I remember grabbing my things before the bus stopped, knowing I had moments before the chaos of it all began once those DI's wearing those somehow intimidating Smokey's  boarded the bus. I remember the yelling, and the first time my feet hit those yellow foot prints on the asphalt. I remember being brought into receiving and placing my head on that desk like I was told to. I remember the brief phone call saying I had arrived, and my fathers sleepy voice. I remember the fear. I remember wanting to kill GySgt O'Donnell, and wondering if I really had it in me to be here for 13 weeks and make it through.

I remember the initial PFT, the worry that I wasn't going to pass and that I would be put in the Pork Chop Platoon. I remember the march over to 4th Battalion, I remember meeting our DI's for the first time. I remember the sight of the barracks. I remember the smell of the chow halls we passed, trying to get a mental picture of where I was from what I remembered when I had been to David's graduation. I remember the DI yelling at us to keep our eyes front as we tried to take it all in. I can still remember the feel of the Camies on my skin, the cover on my head, the Go Fasters on my feet. Learning what an ink stick was, standing in line for shots. The weight of my rifle the first time I held it. I remember clearly SDI Ssgt Thomas with her short red hair, smelling of cigarettes. I remember DI's Sgt Jones and Sgt Gordon. 


I remember never moving so fast in my life, the yelling didn't affect me nearly as bad as some because I was used to it from my father. Even sharing the bathroom with 49 other females wasn't bad, I come from a big family and was used to that. Not much privacy in a house with 10 other siblings. 


I remember pugil sticks and boxing, where for the first time I had my DI yoke me up by the shirt, this little black woman, who if I ran into on the street today would still make me shit my pants, and telling me that the girl who hit me better not kick my ass and to go back in and 'knock that bitch out'. I remember line training and initial drill. I remember the frustration of my DI's because my scoliosis wouldn't allow my upper body to align properly with the rest of the platoon. I remember being surprised about going to a classroom for classes and tests. 


I remember Sgt Wooderick screaming at me, because I hesitated on the confidence course at the Stair way to Heaven. I remember the fear I had climbing because I was terrified of heights, I also remember the smirk on Woodericks face when I made it to the top and down again, and the feeling of triumph I had, never in the civilian world would I have believed I could have done that. 


I remember the humps and the DI's yelling " AT&T" and our response being "REACH OUT AND TOUCH SOMEONE" so that we would tighten it up. I remember moving from the slow group for running during PT, the girls who would braid my hair after lights out, rifle PT, I remember the first time I weighed in at 228lbs, and getting the stripes painted on my PT clothes because I was a fat body. I remember having to call home and say I was in jeopardy of not graduating because I wasn't dropping the weight fast enough, and not even being able to tell my family, I had to call a neighbor because my house didn't allow collect calls. 


I remember snapping in on the rifle range for the first time, the white elephant barracks and Sgt Jones losing her shit and throwing everyone's crap. I remember being booger platoon, I remember thinking that I was probably the dumbest individual in the world for signing up for this. I remember fighting Heather Souza in the chow hall after the rifle range. I remember Ssgt Thomas in my face screaming at me, and thinking I was done and going to be recycled. I remember the hand to hand combat training, and being good at it. I remember the repel tower and climbing the ropes, I remember the crucible. We were the second group to go through it for graduation. 


I remember crossing DI bridge, and the blisters on my feet, that hurt so bad when we had to stop, and rest and then get up and hump again, the EGA ceremony at the Iwo Jima monument, and Ssgt Thomas handing me those EGA's and saying " You made it Mac, and I'm glad you did. You have potential".  

I remember living chow to chow, lights out to lights out and Sunday to Sunday. I remember the letters from home, the pictures my sisters would draw of green boxes and cigarettes. I remember missing my baby brothers. 


I remember having to go back several times for adjustments to be made to my dress uniforms, I remember the final PFT and scoring a high 2nd class PFT. I remember booking my tickets home, I remember the final weigh in and being amazed when they told me I was 145lbs. 


I remember libo the day before graduation and my family not being there because they had flown into the wrong airport. I remember walking around enjoying my first taste of freedom in 13 weeks. I remember the parade deck, the graduation ceremony, and the sight of my father and brother running to catch it. I remember being dismissed and leaving Parris Island. 


I remember the smell, and sometimes, when I am sitting outside the wind will blow and I catch the hint of a scent that can send me back in time.