“G-Rated Recruit,” New Era, Mar. 2003, 32
G-Rated Recruit
The pressure to perform was intense. Make a mistake, and the reward was a chewing out with some pretty bad language. Then, one night the sergeant asked me what I thought of his language. Suddenly my standards were on the line.
The United States Navy’s Officer Candidate School (OCS) is an intense 13 weeks of training for college graduates who want to become naval officers. The first week is especially difficult—seven days with a Marine drill instructor whose job it is to indoctrinate his new class with military discipline and attention to detail. During the training, the Navy’s core values of honor, courage, and commitment are taught and emphasized.
My class drill instructor, Gunnery Sergeant Cagle, stressed to us the importance of honesty and integrity. The consequence of making a mistake was a powerful chewing out—packed with choice words—by Cagle and a “mashing session” consisting of extra push-ups, jumping jacks, leg lifts, and eight-count bodybuilders. Often he would test us by putting us in situations in which we would have to stand up and admit that we had made a mistake just to see how we would act. If someone confessed, his punishment was usually reduced significantly. Still, no one wanted to stand out and draw more attention to themselves than was necessary.
Having been forewarned about what to expect at OCS, I was a little worried about being able to mentally and emotionally handle it. And knowing that many of my classmates probably would not have the same standards as mine regarding drinking, entertainment, and other distractions, I worried that I would not have the strength to stand up for my beliefs under pressure. So, as part of my preparation to enter OCS, I prayed and fasted for strength and asked for a blessing that everything would work out okay. I determined how I would react and what I would do if I found myself in a situation where I would have to defend my beliefs. Still, those drill instructors sounded pretty intimidating.
An opportunity to stand up soon came. Gunnery Sergeant Cagle had all my classmates packed into one of our rooms to show us how we were to fold our clothes and store them in our wall lockers for an upcoming inspection. He started his explanation, mixing it with a few colorful metaphors. At one point he stopped and asked if there were any of us who had not seen an R-rated movie. I almost didn’t raise my hand for fear of standing out, but I remembered what he had said about being honest as well as the commitment I had made to myself to stand up for what I believed. Much to the disbelief of Cagle and the rest of my class, I raised my hand. He stared at me for a minute then asked if I really hadn’t seen an R-rated movie. I answered again that I hadn’t. He told me he would talk to me later, then continued to justify his language to the class.
After he dismissed us for the evening, he pulled me aside and again asked me, in disbelief, if I really had never seen an R-rated movie. For the third time I told him, “No.” He then asked me if I found his language offensive. Taking a deep breath, I told him that, yes, I did find it offensive—a bold answer to my drill sergeant, but one worth any retribution I might receive.
My response caused him to pause again. He asked if I minded if he used that language as long as it was never specifically aimed at me. Again I told him, “Sir, I do mind, and I would prefer it if you would not use that kind of language. However, it is your choice, and I understand that some of it may come with your job.”
I guess he was taken aback, but he let me go. Later that night, and even for a couple of days after, my classmates would ask me what had happened. They told me they didn’t really like Cagle’s language either. They told me I was brave, then asked why I didn’t watch R-rated movies. Their curiosity gave me the chance to tell them about what I believed and about the Church.
Later in the course, we were reminiscing with Cagle, and someone asked him if anybody had ever answered his R-rated question like I had. He looked at me and replied that I was the first, and that I had totally taken him by surprise.
By the end of OCS, my classmates humorously dubbed me “rated-R.” Many of them were even more cautious about swearing in front of me. Because I stood up for my beliefs, I feel I earned the respect of not only my classmates but also my drill instructor.
I am grateful for the strength I felt from the Lord. I am also grateful I decided ahead of time what I would do if I had the choice to say nothing or stand up for my beliefs. I do know the Lord watches out for us and even turns sticky situations into missionary opportunities.
Illustrated by Roger Motzkus