Terminal Lance #546 “Moonlight”

May 7, 2019

The Moon Beam is an enchanted item gifted to you during your earliest days of the Corps. It is a massive flashlight fit for cumbersome D-batteries, oddly shaped to clip on to your chest and still point forward. It comes with many colored lenses, the red of which will likely be used the most. As with most of the original items you’re issued on the first day of boot camp, it is likely to be lost very early on in the tussle and bustle of daily Drill Instructor rampages and recruit-on-recruit stealing to replace their own lost items.

Those that still have it may remember the subtle warmth it provided on those cold nights of recruit firewatch. The little moonbeam is a terrible piece of gear, dying within no more than a few hours of use, but it is one of your only pieces of starting gear and you cherish it all the same.

Three years into the fleet and those early days of bootcamp are but a distant memory. The confusion, shock and worry you felt during your first nights of the Corps are quaint at this point. The motivation that once coursed through your veins ready to tackle the worst of the worst has faded into a growing blur of alcohol-induced depression. The lowering inches of your low-reg haircut signal the decline of your internal motivation to keep being a Marine. Like the little Moon Beam, the D-batteries of your soul begin to fade, and as your EAS approaches you wish for nothing more than to be lost in the bottom of a sea bag.

To be a Moon Beam.



Terminal Lance #475 “Bootcamp: Backed Up”

May 30, 2017

Interesting things happen to the human body when they go to Marine Corps bootcamp.

Your head will be shaven, you’ll be sick as hell for the entirety of your stay, and women even lose their periods for the span of three months upon arrival.

One of the things that usually goes unmentioned though, is that you will likely not shit for at least a week upon arrival to MCRD.

It seems I’m not the only person to experience this. For whatever reason, boot camp scares the shit out of you for at least a week or two.

Mostly, I think I was just terrified to try and get up and use the bathroom without getting yelled at by a sweaty dude in a campaign cover. I remember specifically not shitting until the nights settled down, as the first few nights of arriving to your platoon are filled with screaming Drill Instructors and sad ass fire watch recruits getting hazed hours into the morning. Once things finally quieted down, I snuck off into the bathroom, finally able to unload my bowels into the poor, doorless toilet bowl.

On an extremely unrelated note, remember that girl from The White Donkey? Well her and I are getting married. Taken by the amazing Gabor Szantai in London.