The Yellow Towel

Posted by Brad Osborne on January 16, 2022 · 21 Comments 

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I did my Marine Corps basic training at Parris Island, South Carolina. Three months of challenges greater than I had ever faced up to that point. Here we were trained in every way you can think. Mentally, physically, and emotionally. And though Marines have well-earned their reputation as very skilled warriors, it is not strength or physical prowess that is the hallmark of being a Marine. It is all about self-discipline.

For many, this venture into becoming self-disciplined was new. Growing up in homes where few if any expectations were set for them, they struggled to find this inner strength. But it is a must, and the Marine Drill Instructors are skilled at instilling this trait into young men and women. This boot camp experience has been honed to a fine art over our 126-year history.

There are many techniques employed to teach this all important tenet. One of the most obvious is watching a platoon of Marines when called to attention. Everything from the position of your hands to the angle formed by your feet is dictated by strict rules. And once at attention, no matter what occurs, you will not see one person move a muscle. As the sand fleas nibble your ears and sweat runs into your eyes, you remain motionless. No looking around, no talking, no scratching that annoying itch. It is as if they are cast in stone. But this type of self-discipline was expected in everything we do. It may well be the main reason why Marines run to the fight rather than away from it.

To help strengthen our discipline, one of the odd requirements was that once it was “lights out”, you could not get up from your rack to do anything, including going to the head (bathroom) for an hour. And the same rule applied for an hour before reveille (wake up time for the non-initiated). This was done to teach us that as urgent as something may feel, it can be overcome with great self-discipline. These rules were enforced by the Marine on “fire watch”. An hour-long detail that was passed from one Marine to the next in shifts. If you were lucky, the rotation gave you the first shift or the last. If you were unlucky, your shift was in the middle of the night where you would have to rise, get dressed, and walk around the squad bay till your hour was over and you rousted the next unfortunate soul. This translates directly to combat where there is always at least one person on watch while the others sleep.

Late in our training, one fateful morning found Private Meadows awaking with an urgent need to relieve himself. When he rose to make his way to the facilities, the fire watch would not allow it as it was only 50 minutes to reveille. Frustrated and panged with urgency, Private Meadows devised an alternative. There was an empty footlocker next to his rack. Likely that footlocker was filled at some point, but not everyone makes it to graduation, and we lost people continuously through our three months together. He placed a towel in the footlocker and while the fire watch was at the far end of the squad bay, he relieved himself onto the towel, closed the footlocker, and likely returned to get what more sleep he could before our day started before dawn.

This was not seen or known by anyone. But he also could not get rid of the evidence in the morning without divulging what he had done. I presume he intended to take care of this in our free time in the evening. We rose in the morning, put on our uniforms, and headed out to see how they would try and break us that day. I do not recall exactly what training we did that day, but it did not have us returning to the squad bay until late afternoon. Now the temperatures in June in South Carolina can be excessive, and that day was no different. We had temperatures in the high 90 degrees all day.

Needless to say, when we entered the squad bay the smell of urine was inescapable and did not go unnoticed by our four Drill Instructors. With a little investigation the offending footlocker was quickly revealed. Now the search was on for the culprit. The Drill Instructors asked the responsible party to step forward, but no one did. We all looked around at each other trying to determine the guilty party. When no one took responsibility, our Drill Instructors went into a different mode. One I had not seen before. While still in fatigues, they started a series of calisthenics. As the minutes passed and pools of sweat began to dot the deck under each of the recruits, they became even more angry.

Eventually, the run in with Private Meadows that was had by the fire watch that morning began to circulate through the ranks. In time, every recruit was staring at the guilty party with great malice as we continued to exercise our bodies now racked with fatigue and pain. Although we had a good idea as to who was responsible, we could not make an accusation against another Marine. Snitching is just not in our nature. Two hours after the fun had begun, Private Meadows finally confessed, probably knowing full well that his health was now in jeopardy from the Marines suffering on his behalf. When we finally crawled into our racks that night, you could still hear the boot falls of Private Meadows as he ran around the perimeter of the squad bay.

In the morning, there was another empty rack and footlocker added to the others. I know this may seem harsh, but he was not discharged. He was simply “dropped”, which is to be sent back to another platoon at the beginning of their training. To be honest, being discharged would have been easier. This was not because of his actions, but because he did not take responsibility for them. Yes, this lesson reinforced the need for discipline, but it also taught that owning and being responsible for your actions is also an important tenet to being a Marine.

Both of those lessons had served me well for the remainder of my time in service and well beyond. If you would like to test your own self-discipline, I offer one simple exercise. The next time you have an annoying itch, simply choose not to scratch it. See how long you can go before you succumb to the need. You may well find that, after a while, you begin to relish the discipline it takes.

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Filed under General · Tagged with basic training, bathroom, being responsible, boot camp, discipline, Drill Instructors, fire watch, guilty, Life lessons, marine corps, Marines, Parris Island, pee, USMC, yellow