D.I. of the Year

This man is the spitting image of what people generally think of when they think of a United States Marine. He is muscular, clean-shaven, square-jawed, loud, and highly skilled in marksmanship, well educated on the customs courtesies and traditions of the Navy and Marine Corps, as well as various other things. I have only known the man who I am writing this profile about for no more than seven or eight weeks, but within that short period of time the influence he has had on me has been profound. If I were to never see him again I would still be a better man and Marine thirty years from now because of him. He knows what every midshipman and officer hopeful needs to know to become a Marine Corps officer and to be successful in their careers. He is youthful, but he is wise. My only regret is that I did not meet him sooner.

Standing approximately 5’10”, 220 pounds, with jet black hair and jungle green eyes is Gunnery Sergeant Curtis Osburn of the United States Marine Corps. He has a stocky, muscular build at the ripe young age of thirty-eight. He is the definition of intimidating. If there was ever a man that someone was afraid to get on the bad side of it is this man. He is the Assistant Marine Officer Instructor—AMOI—at the University of Memphis Naval ROTC unit. When he yells, the volume of his voice is like the ear-shattering sound of a .44 Magnum being shot right beside an unwary person in the deafening silence that fills the night air in countryside areas.

Gunnery Sergeant Osburn is neither the strongest nor the fastest, but he never stops trying to improve himself. He challenges himself every day. One thing that he does to try to improve himself is running with our Captain who is a “genetic freak”. He knows that the Captain is going to smoke him, but he runs with the Captain anyway so that he can continue to push himself. Another thing that Gunney does to improve himself is something that he makes those of us midshipmen on the pull-up program do as well, which is pull-ups with a twenty-five pound vest on. Gunney is right there doing them with us every step of the way.

Gunney is in charge of the pull-up program at the University of Memphis NROTC unit. In the pull-up program we started the first week just doing as many push-ups as we could and then sets of ten. Between each set we would do twenty push-ups and thirty crunches. Then we would get back in line and do another set. Then we started doing pyramid pull-ups with a twenty-five pound vest on. What I mean by pyramid pull-ups is that we would start off with a set of ten pull-ups, thirty crunches, and twenty push-ups. Next we would do a set of nine pull-ups, thirty crunches, and twenty push-ups. We would continue that pattern down to zero.

Whenever we are doing physical training—PT—whether it be at 0530 or at 0630, Gunnery Sergeant Osburn is right there in front of our platoon, leading the way. If we start to fall out of the platoon, Gunney will be all over us like white on rice, trying to motivate us and get us back into the platoon. His way of motivation is getting right into a midshipman’s face and yelling his lungs out. When he does this his face turns blood red and his voice overcomes one like the vibrating ground and loud sound of an approaching locomotive.

During the summer when the midshipmen from the University of Memphis go home for their summer vacation or go off to cortriment, mountain warfare school, or Officer Candidate School—OCS—Gunney goes to the latter. Gunnery Sergeant may just be the AMOI at the NROTC unit at the University of Memphis for now but he is not retired, thus the Marine Corps is still a full-time job for him even during the summer months. Gunnery Sergeant is a drill instructor at the US Marine Corps Recruit Depot at San Diego and a drill instructor at the Marine Corps Officer Candidate School in Quantico, VA, which is always where the FBI Academy and the infamous Yellow Brick Road are. Gunnery Sergeant Osburn has been named Drill Instructor of the Year two different times, the latest coming in 2002.

Gunnery Sergeant Osburn knows exactly what it takes to become an officer of Marines, because at OCS not only does he instruct the new officer candidates during this thirteen week course, but he also has to go through the course himself. Drill instructors at OCS have to show up a week before the officer candidates so they can go through the course and know exactly what they will be putting these officer hopefuls through. This showing that Gunney has actually gone through what it takes to become a Marine Corps officer you may be asking yourself, “Why does he not just become an officer himself?” The answer is simple. He would become an officer, but he has his eye set on becoming a Sergeant Major. Sergeant Major is the highest rank in the enlisted Marine rank structure. Gunnery Sergeant Osburn has roughly three more promotions to get to attain the rank of Sergeant Major.

When someone takes a look at the walls in Gunney’s office, they will see tons and tons of history and experiences. When looking at all of Gunney’s accomplishments and experiences it is easy for one to become overwhelmed, but the midshipmen in the unit will hopefully be able to line the walls of their offices with as many awards and memories as in Gunney’s office. In a way it makes me think of a miniature museum of the history of the Marine Corps, but it is only about one member of the Marine Corps and his experiences.

Gunnery Sergeant may sound like a really tough, emotionless, heartless man, but in all honesty, that’s almost what it takes to become a United States Marine when one lives in this world where the warfare tactics now implemented require a Marine or soldier to do unbearable things to enemy soldiers while being able to see the enemy’s face while they do what they have to do to them. In war, the first man to show compassion for his enemy is the first to lose his life. It takes a special kind of person to be a combatant in today’s war-torn world. But like all people, Gunney does have a nicer side. I do not believe it could be called a “softer” side though. If he senses that someone is having problems, either in the unit or out of the unit, he will pull them aside and try to figure out what is wrong and what needs to be done to fix the problem. He also throws a few jokes into his tirades and speeches.

I see Gunnery Sergeant Osburn as a great role model for all Marines, midshipmen, and civilians. Aside from him being enlisted, Gunney is the spitting image of everything I hope to someday be. He exemplifies the Marine Corps’s core values of honor, courage, and commitment. Gunney displays integrity and ownership in everything that he does. When I say “ownership” I am referring to the taking credit or blame for one’s own actions and those of one’s subordinates rather than passing the blame off onto someone else. Ownership is one of the highest stressed qualities in a leader in the Marine Corps. He is great at instilling into all officer hopefuls the core values of the Corps and the qualities needed to become officers of Marines. Who would know what it takes to become an officer in the United States Marine Corps better than a man who has been training officers for many years and who has been named United States Marine Corps Drill Instructor of the Year twice?

Gunnery Sergeant Osburn is a just but fair man. He knows what needs to be done, how to get them done, and how to get people motivated to do the task, whatever the task may be. This man actually cares about each individual midshipman that passes under his authority. He does not just let them do the minimum to get by with a commission as an Ensign in the Navy or a Second Lieutenant in the United States Marine Corps, especially the latter, and for good reason. Aside from the fact that letting someone get by with the minimum is downright wrong, Gunney will make a midshipman earn their commission because of an extremely good point that he makes. His point is this: (Talking to the midshipmen) “When you get your commissions as Second Lieutenants in the United States Marine Corps you will have command over me, and I am not going to be willing to carry out the orders of someone who I do not believe is a competent leader.” Every time I hear that I take it to heart, because I would not want to be in that situation either and I have friends who are enlisted. I want to make sure that they are being commanded by a competent leader and a man or woman worthy of the title of officer of Marines.

No matter where I may go or what I may do in life I will never forget Gunnery Sergeant Osburn for everything he has instilled in me. He has strongly begun to instill all of the Marine Corps’s core values in me as well as a willingness for me to fight in and for what I believe in and what I am trying to achieve, which is a commission as a Second Lieutenant in the United States Marine Corps. Gunnery Sergeant Osburn is not only a great Marine, but also a great man and an indispensable asset to, not only the community, but the nation. If we had more drill instructors and mentors like Gunnery Sergeant Osburn, no one would ever hear of an incompetent officer in the United States Marine Corps.

Playing Football

I attended grade school and junior high at Immaculate Conception School in North Little Rock, Arkansas. I started playing soccer as soon as I could run. I got pretty good at it too. I absolutely love soccer, but another sport I love is football. Football is just as much fun to me as soccer is. I like to play rough sometimes and soccer just was not rough enough. Football, on the other hand, is almost like manhandling your opponent. Because of the rough nature of football, my mom wouldn’t let me join the football team until sixth grade.

I grew up watching football on television, rooting for the Arkansas Razorbacks, and watching the NFL whenever I got the chance. When I was little I was always trying to get a group of friends together to play a pick-up football game. Whenever we could not get enough kids, we would start trying to get adults to play. It did not matter who it was we got to play as long as we had enough people to. We never played two-hand touch. The way we saw it, tackle football was a lot more challenging, and thus a lot more fun because you had to actually catch the person rather than just touch them with two hands. We had a wide, open yard to the side, so we always had a place to play.

When my mom finally let my brother and I join the school’s football team in sixth grade we knew all the rules and were fairly good at playing. I was primarily a defensive back, but I was also trained as a wide receiver. I also played a little defensive end, tight end, kicker, punter, and special teams. Because I loved football so much, I would try to show up to practices as early as possible and leave as late as possible. Despite this, neither my brother nor I ever received very much playing time. The coaches always made sure that their sons and their sons’ friends got a good chunk of playing time. I was second string because of this. I only got to get in on a play here and there, but I loved every second that I was on that football field.
On the very first play that I was in for, I had no idea what to expect. I was just happy to be on the field. I lined up at corner back, across from the other team’s wide receiver. When the quarterback called “hut” and the ball was snapped I just froze as I watched the quarterback drop back to pass. It was a hand off and the wide receiver had come out to block me. He mowed me down like an 18-wheeler flying down the highway. By the time I got back up the play was over. I was furious that I had let that happen to me. Despite how mad that wide receiver had made me, the game ended without anything noticeable from me.

During that same season, we played in the parochial league championship game. Since I was second string, I did not get to play very much. In fact, I did not get to play at all during the regular four-quarter game. Since it was a pee wee league they added a fifth quarter to the game so that the rest of the kids could get a chance to play. Of course the fifth quarter had absolutely no effect on the official outcome of the game. I was in on defense during that fifth quarter of the championship game. I had been sent on a couple of blitzes and coverages with nothing spectacular happening. When the clock was right around the two minute mark, the other team called a passing play. My assignment was a QB Spy. I was supposed to watch and read the quarterback and act as soon as I found out what he was going to do. The quarterback snapped the ball, dropped back to pass, looked at the receivers in my direction, and threw the ball. It fell short and I was able to pick it off. I returned it to about the fifteen yard line. Our offense just kneeled the ball after that. We won the championship, ending our perfect season record of 7-0.
At the beginning of every football season, we had this series of scrimmages that we played. It was called a football jamboree. This jamboree was where each team played each other to size one another up for the upcoming season. Each team got to have twenty plays on offense and twenty plays on defense against each team. There were only four or five teams in our league.

I had gone to refill my water bottle before we went up against our last opponent for the day. At this point in my life, all I wanted to do was impress my dad. When I was walking through the crowd, making my way back to the rest of the team on the sideline, someone stopped me and pulled me aside. They said to me:

“You know what your dad has been talking about all day and really wants to happen?”

“What is it?” I asked.

“He wants to hear your name come over that speaker!”

That made me light up. From that point on I was anxious to get out on the field so I could make a play, have the announcer say my name on the speaker, and make my dad happy.

Our team was on offense first so I did not see any action for the first twenty plays of that final matchup for the day. I was only in for about the last five plays of our defensive stance. My position is known for its job of shutting down the opponent’s passing game. For the first four of those five plays that I was on the field, they handed it off. On the final play of the day, the other team threw the ball right over my head. I jumped up as high as I could and watched the ball float into my hands. When I came back down I looked to the left and saw a sea of red shirts coming toward me. When I looked to the right side I saw the same thing. I had to pick a side and try to truck through them. I ran about five yards before I had almost the whole opposing team swarming all over me like a pack of wolves. When I finally went down, I was carrying the ball in front of my stomach. When I hit the ground, the ball was jabbed into my gut. It hurt but I could not care because I did what I had been told my father wanted me to do. As I walked toward the sideline, the last thing I heard the announcer say was:

“Interception made by number twenty, Josh Neal.”

As I walked off that field at the end of the day, I could not help but smile.

We played a team from a place called Rose City. It was our version of the ghetto. The rumor was that their football team was made up of a bunch of juvenile delinquents. People used to say that their players were given two options: play football for their team or go to jail. These kids played extremely dirty football. They fouled like there was no tomorrow. The referees were just as bad. They called tons of small-time penalties on us, but hardly ever called anything on the Rose City team. I got a decent amount of playing time in this game. It was probably the only time I did. I distinctly remember getting nailed in the back of the head several times while I was walking back to the huddle after a play. This game was the only time I got the chance to be kicker and punter. Unfortunately, I did not do too hot in those aspects of this particular game. This was the only game we would lose while I played football. This game, however, did not affect our overall record that would end once again at 7-0, because the Rose City team was not part of our parochial football league.

I played football for two years and went undefeated during both of them. I did not see a fair amount of playing time, but the playing time that I did see I made count. I thoroughly enjoyed every bit of that time too. I made some great plays and had a fun time making them during my short stint as a football player. Anytime I am invited to play a pick-up football game with my friends, it is almost guaranteed that I will go play.

College Wake-up Call

When I showed up last Wednesday at Hayden Hall at the University of Memphis I had no idea what I was getting myself into. I was there for Naval ROTC orientation/indoctrination. It turned out to be a major wake-up call.

Ever since I was a little kid, I have been fascinated by every aspect of the military. When people watch military movies that show new recruits going through boot camp they see the big, inimidating, muscular drill sergeant yelling at the flustered and frightened new recruits non-stop and right in their face. Some people may see this and think "Wow! That's intense!" or "I could do that; no problem!" What they don't take into consideration is that the drill sergeant is not directing his explosive criticisms at the viewer but at the recruits in the movie. I used to be one of these people.

When the parents left the new midshipman at orientation all the niceties went with them. We spent three and a half days going through this indoctrination process. It was our little taste of boot camp. We did PT at 0530 every morning; we marched everywhere we went; when we had chow, we ate in silence while looking straight ahead. Wake-up came at 0500 everymorning, and liberty would come around 1800. During this entire doctrination process we were being yelled at, even for tiny mistakes. Afterall, the military prides itself on attention to detail!

Be Willing To Fight

"War is an ugly thing, but not the ugliest of things. The decayed and degraded state of moral and patriotic feeling which thinks that nothing is worth war is much worse. The person who has nothing for which he is willing to fight, nothing which is more important than his own personal safety, is a miserable creature and has no chance of being free unless made and kept so by the exertions of better men than himself."
-John Stuart Mill