![]() ![]() ![]() When the envelope’s handwriting and return address called for it, Drill Sergeant McDonald would add the appropriately embarrassing miss-you-so-much girlfriend or momma’s boy insult, fling the letter like a Frisbee in the recruit’s general direction and move on to the next.Ī few times every mail call, something about an envelope would inspire Drill Sergeant McDonald to deliver special attention to the letter’s recipient. Guys with one-syllable last names were doomed. ![]() Details.ĭrill Sergeant McDonald’s mail-call routine was to pull a letter out of the mailbag, holler the recruit’s last name, and expect him to be on his feet and standing at parade rest before the last letter of the recruit’s name left his lips. Another difference was that rather than a big jolly Santa, our gift-giver was a big scary drill sergeant. One difference was that rather than festive holiday colors, everyone was dressed in drab-green camouflage with accents of drab-green camouflage. So I did my best that summer to help push Fort Benning closer to the earth’s core for Drill Sergeant McDonald.ĭuring mail call, Drill Sergeant McDonald would hold court at the front of the barracks with our platoon gathered around him, sitting on the floor like a bunch of anxious children on Christmas morning. But in basic training, you pay for your laughter with pushups, and I’ve always had difficulty keeping a straight face. The things he could do with a booming voice, scowling sense of humor and well-placed expletive were spectacular. He ran nearly nonstop the last two days back to his base with a 60-caliber machine gun over his shoulders and a squad of Viet Cong on his butt.Īlso like Grandma, Drill Sergeant McDonald was very funny … partly because he was the most-amazing cusser I had ever heard. During the Vietnam War, then Private McDonald survived three days alone behind enemy lines. Like Grandma, Drill Sergeant McDonald was an entertaining storyteller: A self-described good ‘ol boy from Alabama, his dad had been a tanker for General Patton in World War II. From the soles of his spit-polished boots to the top of his Smoky the Bear hat, he seemed about 8 feet 3 ½ inches tall, or thereabouts. I looked forward to it not only for the letters from home, but also for our drill sergeant’s performance.ĭrill Sergeant Bobby McDonald was the loudest, scariest, most intimidating person I had ever met. Evening mail call in our Sand Hill Training Area barracks was one of the few lighter moments in the land of sunshine and fire ants (otherwise known as west-central Georgia). ![]()
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