Walking the razor’s edge (continued)

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Looking like officers

A few weeks in, the students start looking more to their platoon commanders — all captains with Fleet Marine Force experience — for advice and a glimpse of what the life of a Marine officer is like. Some platoon commanders are better than others at dispensing that knowledge.

Often, these impromptu counseling sessions occur during “platoon commander’s time,” where the candidates gather in the squad bay to discuss aspects of leadership and the kinds of issues they’ll confront as officers in the fleet.

The 4th Platoon commander, Capt. Khari Wright, is a soft-spoken communications officer from Washington, D.C. To a civilian, his wide, toothy smile inspires a friendly sense of ease, but with the candidates, he maintains a certain distance — a formality that never really goes away.

Each commander has his or her own style with the candidates, though.

Capt. Stephanie Beck, who commands the all-female 1st Platoon, has an easy-going manner that inspires confidence among her candidates and breaks through the invisible barrier separating women from men in the Corps, no matter how subtle the prejudice may still be.

It’s about the sixth week that the candidates start to grow into Marines. They carry themselves with a Marine’s swagger and confidence. There are only a few weeks left. Care packages of cookies and other goodies from girlfriends and family are distributed among the platoon mates.

It’s almost over. But that’s when things are the closest to unraveling.

“They can see the light at the end of the tunnel,” said 4th Platoon’s top enlisted instructor, Gunnery Sgt. Ruben Velez. “But they’d better make sure it’s not an oncoming train.”

No time to relax

For the candidates of Class 186, that oncoming train came during week nine, when they faced one of the last inspections before graduation.

A few days before, a rumor swept through the platoon that this inspection would be a breeze. The nearly minted officers had had little exposure to the OCS commander, Col. Rachal, since they met him at pick-up day more than two months ago, and they were pretty sure he’d merely give them a cursory glance this late in the game.

They were wrong.

As Rachal moved down the line of candidates in each platoon under the boiling summer sun, his head shaking in disgust, the men of 4th Platoon awaited their fate.

By the time Rachal got to 4th Platoon, he was steaming mad.

But Candidate Joshua Piper, a prior staff sergeant with aviator dreams, had a feeling — call it boot-camp intuition — that this inspection would be no walk in the park. That hunch spurred the acting candidate platoon commander to do some extra prep work.

“People thought the battalion commander would just take a look at the uniforms and ask us a few questions and wouldn’t care about our rifles,” Piper said. “But I knew how important it was to have a clean rifle, so I instructed all the squad leaders to make sure their rifles were spotless. ... [Rachal] said he was pleased with our inspection.”

Though a near miss, the incident offered a lesson on what the candidates can expect from life as a Marine officer. No matter what happens, no matter what the scuttlebutt, you must always be ready for action.

Moments of doubt

Along the way, almost every candidate will doubt himself and wonder whether he is cut out for the life. The question isn’t if those doubts will come, but when.

For Candidate Dan Boyle, the moment came on a muggy July day at a maneuver area off Engineer Road in the magnolia tangles of Quantico’s forests. Boyle lay prone, keeping his eyes on his squad’s perimeter to make sure enemy forces lurking in the woods didn’t sneak up on his position.

For many candidates, this was an opportune time to catch some much needed sleep — the instructors were busy working with other squads, and the brim of their helmets hid many sets of droopy eyes.

It hadn’t been an easy run for Boyle. The oldest of six brothers, Dan was the one the boys looked up to. He was a baseball star in high school, more physical than his siblings. But OCS was putting his toughness in doubt. He had difficulty with the obstacle course’s rope climb. His platoon mates admired his drive, but they recognized that his commission would not come easy.

“I was telling my dad the other day that the psychology of this place is amazing — everything’s done for a reason,” Boyle said, peering up from his position near a dry creek bed. His father had recommended just keeping his act together, trying his best and giving his all, a good formula for success at OCS. “My goal is to stay under the radar. I don’t want them to notice me.

“I’m going to keep going,” he said. “I’m in the middle of the pack right now, but I still have to go 100 percent.”

When the doubt comes, what matters is what you do about it. Boyle gutted it out. But for Candidate Patrick Amalfi, it took a little motivation from outside the gates.

Amalfi had come a long way from the clammy uniform supply room back in early June. The blank stare of uncertainty had been transformed into a knowing and confident gaze. He’d suffered no injuries, and the soreness of his bones had become merely background noise in the constant shuffle from lesson to lesson. He’d all but made it.

But in the seventh week of training, his mother got a call she thought she’d never receive.

“Yeah, I told her I was going to graduate OCS but that I’d decided not to take the commission,” Amalfi recalled. He wasn’t sure this was the time to commit to the Marine life. He would push through the course — he didn’t want to be deemed a failure — but he wasn’t going to lock himself into at least four years of this.

His instructors assured him that OCS was not a window into the daily life of a Marine officer — a common impression among candidates. His platoon mates wondered if the girl he started dating shortly before OCS, Jenny Day, had a hand in his indecision.

But Mom offered tough words of encouragement that would make any sergeant instructor proud.

“She got all mad at me and said she wouldn’t come to graduation if I didn’t take the commission,” he said. “It wasn’t worth all that effort if I wasn’t going to go all the way.”

Earning their bars

Amalfi eventually pinned on his gold bars along with more than 200 others from Class 186 on Aug. 13, 2004. They swore an oath to uphold the constitution of the United States and received their commissions.

Though they were past their first test in the Corps, these newly minted officers would have much more to accomplish before they were ready to lead Marines. The next six months at The Basic School, just a few miles from where they stood now on the steps of Little Hall, would try them both personally and professionally.

For candidate Victor Sosa, the dream of becoming an intelligence officer would be tested by the rigors of the field, where cold weather, long and sleepless nights and the austerity of the outdoors sapped his strength — and will.

Amalfi, brimming with confidence after OCS, never could have foreseen what he’d endure just two weeks before graduation from The Basic School. For all Amalfi’s motivation at graduation day and his prowess in the field, the intense academic load at TBS would be tougher than he could imagine.

Officer Candidates School is just the first step on a long road that transforms independent-minded civilians into team-oriented, split-second decision makers.

Some would not measure up to the demands of TBS, where accountability is paramount and attention to detail crucial. Still others would fumble through, making and learning from mistakes along the way in the six-month course many call “officer finishing school.”

For each lieutenant with Class 186, the challenges were different. But none would say the next step on their path to the fleet was easy.