In the beginning

OCS puts candidates through the grinder

By Christian Lowe / Times staff writer

As Wayne Dunlap stood at rigid attention, jaw clenched in nervous anticipation, his fate hung in the balance.

Given his deep desire to be a leader of Marines, standing in this room in front of these officers and enlisted instructors was exactly where he didn’t want to be.

Before Dunlap stepped into the large, ill-lit conference room in the headquarters building of Officer Candidates School, his platoon commander spelled out the reasons why he wasn’t officer material.

It wasn’t because he couldn’t handle the physical demands. It wasn’t because he failed the academics. In fact, Dunlap was squarely in the middle of the pack.

He was trying his best and working hard. He was enthusiastic about becoming a Marine officer.

But there was something missing – something that only his instructors could see. He could never be a leader of men – certainly never a leader of Marines.

“I think he got lost on [Interstate] 95 and ended up in my squad bay,” said the platoon commander, Capt. David Hill.

In the end, that was just it: At Marine Corps Base Quantico, Va., home to the Marine Corps’ training ground for future officers, Dunlap just seemed out of place.

“He’s probably the nicest guy in the entire world, but when he gets his commission, his Marines are going to eat him alive,” said Capt. Tom Warren, 3rd Platoon commander. “They will totally manipulate him.”

Indeed, it was not to be.

The next day, as Dunlap stood before the commander of OCS, Col. Louis Rachal, while company and school staff and other officers looked on, the 26-year-old’s hopes of becoming a Marine officer were put to an end.

“This Candidate really wants to be here, sir. This Candidate is determined to improve, has improved and is determined to graduate in August, sir,” Dunlap said, pleading his case in the third person as all attending OCS must do.

In answer to Rachal’s questions, Dunlap admitted he’d suffered confidence problems but said he was working to toughen himself and get with the program, a point on which his instructors agreed.

“This Candidate has a desire to make a difference. This Candidate has a desire to be a Marine and to lead Marines,” Dunlap assured the OCS commander, his jaw muscles tensing as he stood.

Rachal’s reply?

“Trying hard and putting out 110 percent isn’t enough. For some reason, you haven’t sold yourself as a leader.

“I’m going to disenroll you from the program. ... You have the potential, but you’re not there yet.”

And like that, there was one fewer officer hopeful in the ranks of Officer Candidates School Class 186.

Why they join

The decision to cut Dunlap offers a window into the tough standards Corps leaders apply as they identify who they will entrust the responsibility of leading Marines. Their choices are all the more important because, in selecting the next generation of officers, they do so as the nation is at war.

Most of the Corps’ newest officers can expect that, at some point early in their careers, the odds are good that they’ll be called upon to lead men and women in combat.

And as many Candidates learn, it sometimes doesn’t matter how hard you try. It’s not always your smarts or your strength and stamina. It’s not about how well you march on the parade deck or how well you lead troops in the field during squad maneuvers.

You’re not going to fail if you can’t make it through the obstacle course ahead of the other guy or if you can’t figure out how to get a barrel over a wooden wall on the leadership evaluation courses.

But as Dunlap and dozens of others who tried and failed learned, no one will make the cut as a Marine Corps officer if he or she doesn’t have that special something – that quality that the Corps believes sets its officers apart from all others: leadership.

Many can cut it. Of the nearly 300 men and women who began the journey, 63 would leave voluntarily, drop out due to injury or be told to leave.

And here, unlike at the two depots that produce enlisted Marines, instructors aren’t going to goad officer Candidates along. Instructors will help when asked, but Candidates can drop out – or be dropped – almost whenever they want.

The volunteers of Class 186 attending this 10-week Officer Candidates Course – a program for college seniors and graduates – come from all walks of life. When the course began June 6, in the ranks were a Candidate from Cottonwood, Calif., who has a doctorate degree in finance; a plumber’s apprentice from Houston; a lawyer from Spain; a youth counselor from Omaha, Neb.; a newspaper copy editor from Pennsylvania – all men who think they have what it takes to become a leader of America’s elite.

Their motivations for submitting to the stinking mud, steamy heat and brain-numbing classes that make up this “weeding out” program are wide and varied. Some see their experience in the Corps as a stepping stone for future careers in law or politics. Others, such as Joshua Piper, 27, of Longview, Wash., want to fly jets – a job that can mean a long military career.

Antonio Contreras, 30, of Labadie, Mo., wanted to get into the Corps so badly, he committed to become a lawyer – the only option he had at his age – even though he wanted more than anything to be in the front with the infantry.

Patrick Amalfi, 26, the plumber’s apprentice, simply wants to lead Marine grunts into combat.

Their goals and backgrounds alike are diverse, but all of the nearly 300 officer Candidates of Class 186 share a desire to serve their country – a common patriotic call to make a difference.

Each left a comfortable life for the sweat, pain and uncertainty of OCS. What they have to look forward to is more of the same – months away from family and friends and the kind of stress and responsibility that would give a Fortune 500 executive the shakes.

For many, a life in the Corps could mean that, in less than two years, they will be leading Marines on a combat patrol.

They go into the grueling course knowing they will be flung into a world of discipline and integrity where your responsibility doesn’t start and stop with yourself.

“I got offered a lot of jobs, and it just wasn’t fulfilling” said finance graduate student, Wesley Gray. “I figured I gotta pay my dues someday. I’m young, and I’m healthy, and I don’t want to be out of the action next time around when we got to take care of business.”

Standing in the dappled shade of Quantico’s hardwood forests nearly three weeks into his training, Candidate Alex Wilschke’s wry sense of humor, laid-back attitude and perceptiveness seem a bit out of place behind camouflage face paint.

Waiting for his team’s turn on the Small Unit Leadership Evaluation Course – a mind-bending series of obstacles that force Candidates to solve problems quickly and under difficult conditions – Wilschke, a law student at Denver University, Colo., doesn’t seem your typical Marine. In fact, he seems exactly the opposite. And he’s going to be a lawyer for the Corps.

So, why go through all of this? Why endure the long, early morning runs, the harassment of the sergeant instructors and the hours of classes?

“Most lawyers are a bunch of weenies. And I didn’t see the point of becoming an officer in any other service,” Wilschke said, grinning. “I mean, would I want to become an Army lawyer just so I could have it easier? What’s the point of that?”

To understand his motivations, he recommended reading the poem “If,” by Rudyard Kipling.

It’s a message of manhood, Wilschke said, of subtlety and strength. That’s why he chose the Corps and eschewed the easy route.

“If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,

Or walk with kings – nor lose the common touch;

If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you;

If all men count with you, but none too much;

If you can fill the unforgiving minute

With sixty seconds worth of distance run – Yours

Is the Earth and everything that’s in it, And – which is more –

You’ll be a Man, my son.”

Click here to read the entire poem.

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