They were sham duties, in a way. It was important to ensure the recruits’ safety, but our compound was so small that one person could literally do a tour of the chow hall and the squad bays in a five-minute period. The male battalions did not have their own co-located chow halls. Instead, they were required to march the quarter mile from the classrooms or their squad bay buildings for breakfast, lunch, and dinner.
We were supposed to have one early/late check officer (ELCO) per company every day. That's three officers out of the fourteen I had, and they were also standing other duties in their own company, as well as staffing duty at the battalion. So, I made the battalion officer of the day the early/late checks person, or ELCO.
I thought that was going to be great because the company ELCOs report back to the company commander. The battalion officer of the day reported to me, so the change would allow me to have better oversight on what was going on at the company level and reduce the strain on my companies.
Instead, I got busted.
The inspector general, who we fondly called “the spy on deck,” randomly wandered the battalion spaces to see if we were following the recruit training regulations. He would randomly visit the chow halls to make sure we had someone on duty to do the early/late checks.
All three of the male battalions used the same chow hall, so it was harder to know which battalion was sitting where and who was ELCO. I had my own chow hall, so it was a lot more obvious to the inspector general walking around that there weren't as many officers on deck.
He reported it to the regiment. They said, “Why do you think you're qualified to make this decision?” I tried to explain that it was for the good order and discipline and welfare of my Marines. Besides, they were already well aware that I was severely understaffed for officers and staff noncommissioned officers.
But my idea went over like a 4:30 a.m. formation.
The other battalion commanders—the guys in charge of the male recruits—already had made changes to their duty plans, but I wasn't going to squeal on them.
After he found out about it, in the last week of July, Colonel Haas told me to come see him, so I showed up with a proposal. I put together PowerPoint slides (have I mentioned how much the military loves PowerPoint slides?) showing that the officers would get better sleep and better supervision by combining the duties, but we'd still meet the Recruit Training Order requirements. More important, the change would allow me to have greater oversight of the process, since the battalion officer of the day reported directly to me, while the ELCOs reported directly to their respective company commanders. For the first time ever, having a small, self-sufficient compound could work in favor of my battalion, since it took only a minute for the ELCO to transit from the chow hall to the squad bays.
Colonel Haas said no.
He would have had to go to the commanding general to get an exception for Fourth Battalion. He refused to do that even though the construction of Fourth Battalion made it a commonsense request, and we needed more people to reduce fatigue and incidents of recruit abuse.
This was particularly true for one company in Fourth Battalion: November Company, whose barracks had been built later and outside the immediate battalion area.
Each of my companies had separate offices for their company staff on the first levels of their buildings. A set of stairs outside led to the individual squad bays—the big rooms where recruits slept.
In Papa and Oscar Companies, there were squad bays on the first deck (or floor, as anyone who doesn't think of a building like a ship would say) and second decks. Each squad bay was split into two halves for the two platoons, with a duty hut—or DI office—in the middle, connecting both squad bays. This meant the drill instructors from either platoon (there were four platoons in Papa Company and six in Oscar Company) could watch over all of the recruits at night, which reduced the number of Marines required to be on duty at night. Papa and Oscar Companies were situated directly across from each other, with a shared compound for drill and formations outside in the middle. Our medical facility, classrooms, PX (store), and hair salons sat on the first and second floors along the outdoor passageways connecting the two company buildings.
November Company lived in a separate building to the rear of the compound. The building, which was constructed in the 1980s, was connected to the compound by a catwalk, but it was separate and distinct from the rest of the battalion. Unlike in Oscar and Papa Companies, in November's building, the squad bays for each platoon were separate, with a duty hut at the front of each for the platoon's drill instructors. As a result, the drill instructors in November Company had to stand more duty periods than those in the other companies.
I believe the separation of November Company's building from the rest of the battalion created a complex in the minds of the drill instructors: They did not feel like a part of the rest of the battalion. They gained that underdog syndrome, believing that they had to work harder, and believing that they did not have to follow the same rules. The additional duty requirements also created additional stress for the drill instructors due to a lack of sleep. This made for some poorly behaved Marines, and it didn't take long for me to find
