Guy was in basic training with Chelsea Manning. It seems to me she, he back then wasn't a good fit for the military. They were likely desperate for recruits at that time so they didn't kick her out.
Really long article at the link
http://www.f169bbs.com/bbs/news/3873...u-havent-heard
One morning at formation there was an audible rumble on the other side of the PT pad in Manning's direction virtually as the Drill Sergeants were walking up and long after anyone should have even been whispering. What was going on? According to most, the general story went: Manning called out the uniform of the day, waited until her squad was dressed and had moved out to the morning formation, when she then put on the real, correct uniform of the day and ran to catch up. The commotion at the formation was her saying that she heard at the last minute what the real uniform was and it wasn't her fault they were wrong; the rest of the team apparently was having none of it. In the Army, if everyone is wrong together, then they're still right; uniformity is one of the highest virtues in our military. If one person is technically "right" but the rest of the team is uniformly wrong, then the technically "right" person is still wrong; everyone is still punished equally. By week two everybody knew that, lived it and lived with it. Everyone, except Manning.
A typical exercise sequence bear-hugging the Jerry Cans always started slowly, but rapidly escalated:
"Run in place. Now on your face. Now roll on your back. Stand up. Faster." "Move like your hair is on fire, and the only way to put it out is go faster!" "Run in place, on your face, on your back, Faster!" "Runinplace,onyourface,onyourback. Faster!"
I remember Manning during one of these exercises, because she was struggling. We had to hold the Jerry Can over our heads, arms fully extended and locked at the elbows while we did squats, in cadence, counting from 1 to 10. If we made it to ten, the exercise was over. However, if a recruit got out of sequence and stood when s/he should have been squatting, we started over at 1. If a recruit dropped the can, we started over at 1. If we didn't all count together, we started over at 1. Manning couldn't hold the can and do the exercise, but the truth was, nobody could. The purpose never was to really to get to 10. It was to inoculate you to stress and to teach you to never quit, no matter how much it hurt or how hopeless even the simplest group-task had become. When the Drill Sergeants finally reduced the goal to a 5 count, and then 3, and then to a 1-count held for just 10 seconds by everyone in unison, they let us stop. That is, everyone who had tried their hardest. A handful needed additional motivation and had to keep going. The Drill Sergeants, as intense yet consummate professionals, circled around Manning and matter-of-factly laid out the task, "get it over your head now!" It was the rest of the recruits in the group who saw this and told Manning, "C'mon, don't quit. You've got this. C'mon Manning, you can do it." And then, in that most Soldierly of acts, a handful said "Here, we'll do it with you. We'll do it together." Her immediate battle buddies picked up their jugs and stood around her, doing more of the exercise, trying to coordinate with and motivate her. I remember watching with the rest of the group. She never made eye contact with any of them. There was no connection to the people trying to help her. Instead, I saw her face turned scarlet, sweat pouring off her face, grimacing. And through grit teeth, she moaned in agony, "I can't," and she dropped her Jerry Can.
"Two minutes and fifteen seconds remaining," the Drill Sergeants would call out across the building. We swallowed every mouthful with a swig of water so it would go down faster. We knew we'd be near throwing it up in less than 30 minutes, but for that - "one minute and fifteen seconds remaining -" that we still had food, we were happy to eat anything. Our meals were taken at only that Dining Facility, or in the field. Any food taken, consumed, or even found anywhere outside the Dining Facility was considered contraband and would be punished under Article 15 of the Uniform Code of Military Justice. Chow time was sacred.
At 10 seconds, the Drill Sergeant would start the countdown. God help you if you were still chewing when the count ran out.
"3. 2. 1. You're done. You're done! Spit it out! SPIT IT OUT. YOU ARE DONE WHEN I SAY YOU'RE DONE, DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME." Everyone understood - Drill Sergeants are not to be messed with. Their rules are laws. You do not cross them, you do not question them, you do not deviate in any way from the norms and behaviors they established way back on day one. Everyone knows that.
Except Manning.
After five weeks of this same lock-step script at the Dining Facility, rehearsed the exact same way three times a day, a commotion in the middle of the facility broke everyone away from their food. Manning was standing up, away from her seat, in the middle of an aisle. What the ...
Red in the face, coughing and gasping and holding her throat with one hand, Manning gurgled out, "Drill Sergeant, I'm choking. I'm choking, Drill Sergeant. I can't breathe, I can't - " when she reached out a hand, and physically placed that hand on the Drill Sergeant's forearm.
The earth might as well have split open; a private made physical contact with a Drill Sergeant. Intentionally. In one ferocious movement and a grip of steel, the Drill sergeant threw Manning's hand from off his arm and barked,
"Private get your hand OFF ME or I will RIP your arms out of theirs sockets and I will beat you to DEATH with them. Now SIT DOWN and SHUT UP!"
Manning stopped choking instantly. She put her arms down at her sides, turned away and said, "Drill Sergeant, yes Drill Sergeant, it won't happen again." She sat back down, and finished eating.
- -
The last time I saw Manning in person, it was in the Field during a training exercise. I remember that exercise because nearby there was a hold-over recruit from a previous BCT class who had failed his final Army Physical Fitness Test and was always around. He never quite trained with us, but he always in the field with us wherever we went. He thought he knew the answer to everything, and he thought he was somehow in charge because he had been in the Army nine weeks longer than the rest of us. But what stood out the most about him was that he always had candy. Candy was like food, only worse. It was not allowed to be purchased or kept, consumed - it could not even be mailed in a care package unless there was enough for every member of the platoon to have some (I'll never forget when Private Pletz's mother sent 42 Butterfinger candy bars in the mail just so her son could have one). Still, everyone knew that the holdover somehow had contraband packages of Snickers Bars and M&Ms all the time. During my basic training cycle, he came under investigation for allegedly offering to exchange packages of candy for sexual favors from the female recruits. His days were numbered, and everybody knew to steer clear of him. That is, everyone but ...
At the end of the field exercise, that holdover was walking up to groups of us, offering to sell us candy for $20 a package. We all knew to keep our distance from him - he was untrustworthy, he was in trouble, and he was only going to get you in trouble too if you associated with him. And yet, Chelsea Manning bought a package of M&Ms from him for $20. I remember that scene, because Manning was not quiet about it. She was practically bragging out loud that she had contraband candy. At six weeks into basic training, it just wasn't worth it, and yet that scene has stayed with me all these years, because for Manning, it somehow was worth it. Maybe by then, she thought she had nothing else to lose.