We are first introduced to the cattle car right out of reception, after the company has collected their 'fresh fish'. We gather all our equipment and try to get on the cattle car as quickly as possible before we are sharked out. Having gotten used to the otherwise mild Drill Sergeants of the Reception Battalion, we suddenly found ourselves coming face to face with a whole different breed.

My first experience with the cattle car was not very pleasent. We were all lined up in alphabetical order and crammed into this tiny room with ALL of our gear. This includes all of the issue and any personal stuff you decided to bring from home. I don't know,
I guess I thought I would have more personal time then I did because I brought a lot of crap from home in a large red duffle bag, which weighed about 75 pounds, along with my Army Duffle bag, which had to way another 75 or something.

Back to the room, we were lined up as a Drill Sergeant came around and we sounded off with our names, you know, to make sure we were actually supposed to be there. With her OK, we grabbed our gear and headed out the door as quickly as our legs could carry us. Upon reaching the outside, there they were. And they were LOUD!

I'm all thinking, 'ignore them, ignore them,' as I hauled my equipment with my weak little arms and headed in the general direction that the person ahead of me was going. I was doing pretty good, really good as a matter of fact, until I got to the cattle car and started to make my way up.

The person directly behind me was a little to excited or something, because *WHACK*, he drilled his stupid duffle bag right into my leg as I was heading up the stairway to get on the dad nab cattle car. This prompted me to drop all my stuff and I was quickly
introduced into the idealism called 'sharking'.

You think about it, right? It makes sense, what do sharks do? When they come onto a groupof prey, they look for a weakness, the individual who shows their soft belly to them. And better yet, a little blood. And BOOM! They attack.

I showed a weakness. I slowed down because the idiot behind me caused me to drop all my stuff, and I promptly had about five drill sergeants yelling in my ear "get a move-on, Tore-up!" "What's your hold up!" and even worse, because they are actually yelling this in my ear. I tried to explain to them, "look, this guy ran into my leg, yell at him for being in such a hurry when I was doing just fine before," but they merely told me to "SHUT UP! Get your ass in the cattle car!"

Anyway, I managed to get in the cattle car and wait patiently as privates filed in on all sides of me, many of them in tears. I found myself holding onto my military duffle, my red duffle packed precariously on top.

After they crammed as many privates as they could, the Drill Sergeant came on board and we all rode in silence to our next destination. I later learned that they actually drove in circles around Fort Leonard Wood to let it sink in.

One girl, obviously in tears, began whimpering in sympathy that she obviously made a mistake.She tried to get the Drill's attention by mumbling, "Drill Sergeant?"

Drill Sergeant promptly told her to "SHUT UP!" And so we rode in silence. I buried my head into my duffle bag and started laughing. I didn't know what else to do, I didn't feel like crying. I just couldn't help myself as I thought, "I'm really doing this!
I'm really going through Basic Training!"

I think right there, in the cattle car, that's when it really seeped in.

We got to know the Cattle Cars really well during our stay there. In fact, we rather learned to appreciate them. It was either Cattle Car or Road March, and in the middle of February in the Missouri Ozarks, marching wasn't very much fun.

Posted by Erickson on 16:18 : - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -