I was young and naive when I joined the U.S.M.C. I held an anti-authoritarian attitude and libertarian leanings, before my embrace of anarchism. I was at that point a John Stossel libertarian. I would frequent the Advocates for Self Governance. I still held to the idea that there was a ‘good government’ and this was the killing kind. It was my time in service that opened my eyes to the lies that I was told.

I was twenty three years old living in a little studio apartment dealing with legal issues involving abstract laws of the state. I decided that I could get education a job and a place to live if I just joined the Marine Corps. I got a job waiting tables over nights at the local ‘Steak ‘n Shake.’ I went early in the morning after my shift up to the local recruiters office sporting my red Mohawk. I went through a bad break up and was feeling no reason to stick around Cincinnati. So I was going through a period where I was listening to a good deal of ‘Stiff Little Fingers’

At the time I figured I would just go in and work a 9-5 job and get out to a normal life. I should have taken the hint that morning I first showed up at the recruiting office to ship off to boot camp. The recruiter that was supposed to take me did not show up. I waited around a while to discover that he had taken his life. He shot himself in the head twice. Apparently the first round only grazed him and the second was the one that did the job. I should have just ran, but at that point I felt as if I had nothing else for a future. I went home and waited a few months.

I was staying at my parents house because I had left my apartment to join the Marines. I was asleep in the basement when my mother started yelling at me. I ran upstairs to the view of the twin towers going down in smoke. I was scared. Was there going to be war? I hid. I did not want to go into a Marine Corps on the brink of war. I did this until after Christmas when I finally set off.

I remember the flight down was one of the last moments of normal humanity that I would know. When I exited the airplane there were two Marines in their Smokey Bears’ rushing towards me. They took me through a deserted airport to a bathroom where I emptied my pockets and placed my hands on the counter and spread my legs as if I were a criminal. They patted me down looking for ‘contraband.’ I lost my cigarettes and lighters. I was walked out and placed on a bus where we were instructed to lean forward and place my head against the seat in-front of me. We stared at the floor the whole ride. The buss was filled with other recruits like myself.

It was dark as I arrived. The Drill Instructors came on the bus screaming and rushing us out to those yellow footprints. They gave their motivational speech dripping with nationalism and some patriotism about dying. It was this point that I realized I had made a mistake. Oh, how I will always loathe Parris Island. Every bit of my time in service still weighs heavy on my conscience. I was property. I no longer had a name. I was to be refereed to simply as ‘Recruit’. Individuality and humanity were no longer an option. They would begin thirteen weeks of stripping any humanity from us. The purpose they stated often was to “break us down so they could build us back up as MARINES!” Yes they broke us down. It is the major purpose. Humanity can be a problem for the government. When you are the killer it uses to commit mass murder you can not cling on to your humanity, for what you are doing is wrong and you can not see this. You must have a new state approved set of morals that accepts murder as a necessity without blame for what you do. You must be trained to place the blame of the murder you commit on the greater good, you must without question blame the victim. You must have the instincts and justification of a killer poured into an empty shell of a human being.

The word “I” was forbidden. If one was to refer to themselves it would be as “this recruit”. The recruits were to refer to the drill instructors by proper rank. The hierarchy of rank was quickly understood. These recruits learned that Marines had more rights and that Marines of higher rank would always have more rights and unquestioned devotion. The individual did not exist as well as independent thought. This recruit was told what to think and was reminded that this recruit would be told what to think.

The recruits were brought to a cold room where recruits were weeded out. They drilled for any past medical history or any information recruits were withholding. The point of the game for most was for the recruit to just keep it’s mouth shut. In order to get in I had to hide my past and my very nature. I have Tourettes Syndrome. This was what kept me out at the age of eighteen. This recruit would get me in trouble on a few occasions in boot camp because of tics.

I remember the day after we arrived we were handed little packed lunches that were frozen. The Recruits would eat what they could eat frozen and keep the sandwiches under our butts to try and warm them up enough to eat.

Tics are not aloud. My Tourettes got me in trouble a few times this recruit could not hold them back any longer. This recruit remembers Drill instructor Sgt. Pulsin screaming with that scratchy voice drill instructors use as his spit in this recruits face over a tic. All this recruit could think of was devouring the drill instructors face and cannibalizing the drill instructor. This recruit did not just imagine cannibalizing the drill instructor this recruit had the urge and want which had to be forced back. The urge had to be pushed back somewhere with the humanity that was suppressed. The suppressed humanity had been mixed with violence aggression and hate. The response was programmed at that time.

“Drill Instructor Sgt. Pulisn! Yes! Drill Instructor Sgt. Pulsin! This recruit was stupid Drill Instructor Sgt. Pulsin!”

“I CAN’T HEAR YOU!” he screamed in this recruits face.

“DRILL INSTRUCTOR SGT. PULSIN! YES! DRILL INSTRUCTOR SGT PULSIN! THIS RECRUIT WAS STUPID DRILL INSTRUCTOR SGT. PULSIN!”

Repetition went hand in hand with the denial of self. Information was repeated loudly in unison by the recruits. The Corps values Honor, Courage and Commitment were one of many things that were yelled repeatedly in unison. Of course with the skewed perspective of courage to kill and die for the state and the commitment state it made mockery of the concept of honor. Honor was what was deemed honorable by the state. Commitment is “Total dedication to the Corps and Country.”

Day in and day out while training in physical combat the recruits scream “Marine Corps! KILL! KILL! KILL!” Kiler becomes an honorable thing that Marines call one another. Hey there Killer.

The recruit hears daily of how women are not faithful and how they are sluts and whores but their pussies are wet. This perspective of women I would see lead to abuse Marine Corps wide. I would see how much disregard for humanity Marines were left with.

Sunday mornings offered a break from the intensity of the training and brainwashing. Recruits were encouraged to attend religious services.  This helped with a few things. First it gave a way for recruits to process what was going on and gave a break. The second thing it helped with was dealing with the conflicts of religion and murder. The recruits could be taught by a pro-state religious perspective which helps them to believe their god is proud of their murder. Over the thirteen weeks communication between recruits was highly prohibited. The recruits would interact as a single entity. Over the time there would be camera crews and journalists. A film was shot there for a documentary on the History channel. All of this was strictly regulated on what was caught on film and what was able to be released from what was shot. What was seen on the Island was heavily regulated.

Those first thirteen weeks of isolation the recruits were given little to enjoy. On rare occasions instructors would allow recruits to see segments of films during training this was seen as a reward. The segments were only segments of extreme violence and murder. The recruits would sit and watch people beating, harming and shooting other human beings. They would call this “motivation” and talk of how it got their “dicks hard.”

The recruits would become the finely tuned killing machines mentally changed forever. I watched as the more rebellious recruits were wore down into submission. Those were the ones I saw loose more of their humanity than any of the others. Most would be proud of themselves. Some would go on to question their conditioning, but most would retain their brainwashing and servitude to the state.

In a culture where violence is often praised it is not difficult to get young teenage boys to desire to become a part of all of this. In the schools where they are taught by the very state that sends them to die and kill the recruiters single them out with promises of glory and heroism. Many still are blind by the lies of the state in believing this is civilized society. Many are taught that without violence and murder there will be violence and murder.