Introduction

Military Police
One Station Unit Training
Ft. McClellan, Alabama
1987

by Mike Shimer

    FT. MCCLELLAN, ALABAMA is located east of Anniston in the southern foothills of the Appalachians, almost halfway between Birmingham and Atlanta. Beautiful country if you're a tourist, but to a nineteen year old Army recruit from Florida, Alabama seemed like the 9th level of Hell.

    Kids from all over the United States flew, bussed, and railed in to Atlanta, Georgia, from Military Enlistment Processing Stations (MEPS), on their individual journeys to the US Army Military Police School. Once arrived at the Ft. McClellan Replacement Detachment, they began their in-processing with uniform issues, haircuts, immunizations, and briefings. Paperwork was completed (more than most of these new recruits had ever seen in their young lives), as they prepared for their first day of basic training. 

    Recruits were tightly packed on busses, with their entire initial issue of clothing stuffed into OD green duffle bags, along with any other luggage they had brought with them. The ride to the training battalions seemed like an eternity, eerily quite in anticipation of their introduction to the all mighty drill sergeants. As the busses squealed to a stop outside of the three-story blocks, evening was setting in as the sun fell low on the surrounding mountains.

    The hydraulic doors "whooshed" open and the first "brown round" campaign hat became visible. The sergeant beneath the infamous symbol of power, tested and true, glared menacingly at his new charges. 

    "On behalf of the cadre of Delta 787th Military Police Battalion, I want to welcome you to basic training. Now you have EXACTLY thirty seconds to get your WORTHLESS assess off this bus! Move, MOVE, MOVE!"

    The scramble to get off of that bus was utter chaos. A push, shove or kick would help you on your way out the door, as more of the screaming drill sergeants began the task of putting the recruits in formation. Orders were screamed, lending to the confusion, as the dazed trainees were marched to receive their bed linen, combat gear, and other formalities to in-process the company. 

    Part of this in processing was learning the "recovery poem"; the verbatim recital necessary to recover once dropped to the front leaning rest position for push-up punishment.

"Drill Sergeant, thank you for conditioning my mind and my body.
Drill Sergeant, please feel free to do so at any time.
Drill Sergeant, Private Shimer requests permission to recover, Drill Sergeant."

    The drill sergeant standing over me, being cut from the same sadistic mold as the seemingly endless other drill sergeants in the Army's arsenal, seemed to be thoroughly enjoying his job. For a few painful seconds, arms quivering from exhaustion, I sat and waited for the drill sergeant's response. I was praying for the words "Recover, Private" to slip from his lips so that I could at least stand up in the position of attention.

    The order came and I stood up as fast as humanly possible (a slow recovery would always be rewarded by more push-ups). Now came the ass-chewing for some long forgotten transgression of military discipline, of which the drill sergeant was the judge, jury and executioner. 

    In my young mind, the reasoning for all of this "special attention" was lost in the moment, but now it comes back to me very clear. The drill sergeant's job was to turn the thirty or so civilians he or she received every five months in to US Army Soldiers, members of the most powerful military in the history of the World. The task is not easy: most drill sergeants only serve the minimum two years in the assignment and move on. The job is one of the most stressful, physically demanding and mentally draining in the Army; but the rewards are tangible and real.

    Many hard lessons were indeed learned in training, where mistakes can be afforded, instead of in battle, where a mistake would almost surely cost you or a fellow soldier his or her life. This is doubly important for the Military Police soldier, who is always looked upon by other soldiers to set the example, and is given the awesome responsibility of "policing our own." This sentiment is echoed in the Military Police Code of Ethics, which I will relate here in full:

I am a soldier in the United States Army.
I am of the Troops and for the Troops.
I hold Allegiance to my Country and Devotion to Duty above All Else.
I proudly Recognize my Obligation to Perform my Duty with Integrity, Loyalty, and Honesty.
I will Assist and Protect my Fellow Soldiers in a manner that is Fair, Courteous and Impartial.
I will Promote, by Personal Example, the Highest Standards of Soldiering, Stressing Performance and Professionalism.
I will Strive to Merit the Respect of Others, Seeking No Favor because of Position but, Instead, the Satisfaction of a Mission Accomplished and a Job Well Done.

    That is the philosophy which I have always tried to keep with me. This story is not the author's own experiences (though several I was a direct participant in); however, it is the story of the Military Police men and women who have related some of the best "choir practice" stories I have ever heard.

101st MP Company (Air Assault) ~ Port Au Prince, Haiti Operation Uphold Democracy 1994-1995