It was not a good situation.
It's not legal. And it sure as hell is not humane.
Try changing that dynamic when DIs have learned, over time, that that's the only way to make tough Marines—screaming at them all day, every day, regardless of what the training doctrine says. Because Parris Island is the only place where we make female enlisted Marines (as an officer, I did not go through boot camp at Parris Island), all of the drill instructors had been trained as recruits in the exact same environment and place: Fourth Battalion.
Parris Island almost felt gang-like in how territorial it was. Marines in the battalion were so terrified of Marines from other companies that they avoided their company areas. They told me, “If we need something, we rely on our own company, because with the rest of the battalion, it's us against them.”
I know this is how movies portray basic training. I've seen Full Metal Jacket and Platoon. But such fictional depictions haven't been the reality for years. There are several reasons for that: First, as I explained before, we spend too much money on recruits to break them. Second, we no longer draft recruits; they are volunteers. They shouldn't need to be forced to do a job they signed up for. And, third, we have a professional military, and, therefore, we want to teach servicemen and servicewomen how to act like professionals capable of being ambassadors for America in the outside world.
But there's another reason that's more subtle. If all of the women came in understanding that we design boot camp to break them down as individuals and then build them up into teammates—that it's all essentially a head game—they might be able to live up to that game. But if you add to the mix a group of women who may have been abused as children, or who may have been sexually assaulted (as we know a high number of recruits have been), or who may have gone into the Marine Corps simply because they didn't yet know what they wanted to be when they grew up, you've got a volatile situation. Exposed to this toxicity, some of these young recruits will come out scarred for life, and that's not how you make a Marine.
But most of the drill instructors had been brought up through this abusive system themselves, and they believed that that's how they were supposed to behave—like the woman who pulled duty for several months straight. You could probably create a chart showing that for every drill instructor who had been in trouble for recruit abuse or DI abuse, there had been abuse in her unit when she went through boot camp. The thought seemed to be, “It sucked while I was in. Why would I make it easier for you?”
Changing that mentality would be incredibly difficult, particularly considering that I inherited a first sergeant and a company commander in November Company who never bought in to what I hoped to do. They did not enforce the change from the top down and, in fact, were offended that I told them they needed to change tactics. Who was I to interfere in their business?
Oddly enough, November's company commander took over the month before I got there. The investigation into her drill instructors began several months before she got there. She absolutely could have started fresh with a command philosophy that demanded no abuse, but it appears she also bought into the idea of hard-assery over success—or she was simply too intimidated by her enlisted Marines to try something different.
One of my favorite officers said that being in that company was the worst experience she'd ever had, because she understood what they were doing was wrong. When she tried to fix it or prevent it, they ostracized her, and she got zero help from the battalion commander when she tried to blow the whistle. Before I got there, she said there had been no direction—no way to measure success. And, she said, when she tried to make change, the blowback was so fierce that she went to other officers to ask for help. Their advice? “Pretend you're a squad leader.” In other words, sit back and let the enlisted Marines handle it.
Even being professional was seen as a sign of weakness.
Fourth Battalion itself did not promote good behavior. They were short-staffed; they were working terrible hours; their families were often far away; they weren't getting enough sleep; they didn't have a social life; and their basic needs were not addressed.
These Marines had been hand-selected for the assignment. It's a special duty. It's a privilege. You have to be impressive to be chosen in the first place. You go through DI school, and you're the greatest thing since green camouflage, and you even get to wear a cool hat (cover). Then you graduate, get to your battalion, and are treated like shit by your peers—because that's just the way it's always been.
At the very top level, no one said, “Hey. Good job. This needs to change—you worked hard to get here, and we're going to make it better for you.”
At the very top level, no one said, “Hey. We care about the safety of the recruits and making good, strong Marines. We're going to make it better for them.”
Instead, they sent the women off to their “other” corner and ignored them.
Hello Lt Col Germano,
What happened to you is such a dismay, know
