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U:
r'T As
er’s side, and bound to the saw-
dust
^covered ground below.
0 far, for her and the rest of Pla- 4036, it’s been a challenging day. p ey rose before dawn, shouldered *s> and marched into Parris Island’s
he’s not a real Marine,
|°u say? Look again at the °ugh training women are Getting in today’s Corps.
arine recruit Ernestine Prescott admits she’s nervous. In j. —seconds, when her drill in- •he t0f 8ives ^le or^er’ she’ll run to ^ ,toP of this 45-foot tower where t0e ** 8r‘P a thick rope, step over the piney training areas. There, they donned gas masks and later got a whiff of tear gas, discovering that it prickles the skin and bums the nose and throat.
Now, these women face their first chance to rappel. Nobody in 4036 seems wild about this idea. As they line up beneath the rappelling tower, every face is turned skyward. Probably, nobody’s studying the deep blue South Carolina sky or the fluffy clouds driven by stiff winds. More likely—despite the metal clasp that links them to the rope and the handlers who can stop their descent by yanking that cable— everybody’s gauging how high 45 feet is and what happens if you fall that far.
Except for commando missions, rappelling doesn’t have much practical use. This exercise is a confidence- builder, a test of self and a dose of Marine-style discipline. It also helps answer the question Marines love to ask about boot camp: “Are they making them like they used to?”
The answer for women Marines, like Ernestine Prescott, is: “No. They’re making them tougher.”
Today, women finishing boot camp not only know how to wear makeup the Marine way and how to march but also how to fire a grenade launcher, how to probe for land mines with a bayonet, and how to patrol at night.
Lieutenant Colonel Frances Wilson is in charge of female training at Parris Island. She says she’s envious.
Women recruits at Parris Island— where all WMs do their boot training—are facing more demanding physical regimens as part of Commandant Alfred M. Gray's drive to harden the Corps's fighting edge.
“In my particular case there’s no comparison. The women here are doing so much more than we ever did,” she said. “The women have to be in better shape. They have to be brighter. I think they have to be more flexible, more tenacious, more determined than we ever had to be.”
Ten years ago, women Marines (called WMs in Corps slang, with each letter clearly pronounced) didn't train like this. The emphasis was on drill and deportment. Staff Sergeant Sally Wyndham, now a drill instructor, com
pleted training in 1978. Then, as P of boot camp WMs even went to party where they practiced poise etiquette. Nobody fired a on a pack or smelled tear gas.
rifle or Put
“1 think it’s better for the won' , now,” she said, as a nearby toon went through a vigorous workout to the pop tune “Danger ,, Zone” from the movie “Top “It makes them more equal * they get to the fleet. It makes 1 ^ more competitive when it comes promotion.”
WM P,a' aeroh‘c
/jub 1
w
is 18 times larger. This will
barn stran8e t0 anybody who’s been !>arrj^lered into Marine Corps shape at to0 'S fsland, but it’s a beautiful place, a ‘*«h picturesque wetlands that on
%
the ^ ^udubon Society calendar. Let
WMme. things haven’t changed. All P0us :5t*H are trained at Parris Island’s the rf ®attalion. Parris Island is still t>ase0rPS s heart and soul. It’s a tiny ^amp Pendleton, California, for Sou,
sunny day resemble a picture
Wou??Vernment 'eave anc* developers turn it into a resort like Hilton
Head 40 miles south.
What has happened is that Commandant Alfred M. Gray is putting the fighting edge back on the Corps. That edge became blunt, the general said, when the Marines stopped emphasizing infantry skills for everyone a few years ago and began sending specialists directly to schools without teaching basic combat techniques. That’s over. Male Marines now attend a 28-day intensive infantry-oriented training course after completing initial training.
For WMs, this policy means they’re staying at boot camp a week longer than the men. The expanded syllabus will accommodate more physical training and more defensive combat skills. Marine commanders are refining the program and that will mean changes as it proceeds. But statistics from the initial schedule show, for example, that WMs now go on six instead of the previous two conditioning marches. Weapons training, not counting rifle qualification, now gets 66 hours, up from 39.5 hours. Field time, too, is up from 86 hours to 107.
that-
rines of Platoon 4036 to realize
Federal law prohibits women Marines from taking combat jobs.
But realism dictates that the Marine Corps teach them to defend themselves on the modern battlefield, where there is no safe rear area. They also learn the Marine way with makeup and practice rappelling from a 45-foot tower.
Everyone at Parris Island stresses that WMs are not being trained for combat. By federal law, they may not serve in units that engage in direct combat operations with the enemy. As a result, women do not serve in the infantry, artillery, armor, or aviation specialties. All other jobs are open.
But consider the rhetorical question asked by First Lieutenant Etoy Brown, a Fourth Battalion series commander: “Is there really a rear in combat?”
The answer is obvious. The rear doesn’t exist anywhere anymore. Modern warfare would allow no sate ■ for the WMs. For the would-be M
they need look no further than the ,5 pelling tower on which they train'giaff named Holberton Tower to honor ^ Sergeant Robert Holberton, a f°rra instructor killed in the 1983 Beir11 truck bombing. ua-
The Beirut tragedy proved ttia^ rines always are a target in war a peace, whether they drive a true ' bulldozer, make training aids or S an embassy.
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affairs officer, and “the fact that women have proven themselves to be capable in it.”
Fourth Battalion’s Sergeant Major James Moore, a 19-year Marine veteran, applauds the training, calls it revolutionary, and says it finally settles the question of WMs’ role in the Corps.
“We used to soft-pedal training of women because their position wasn't clear,” he said. This training, he believes, will build confidence among WMs, and it also demonstrates good leadership.
Of course, the Marine Corps is not a society apart from the rest of the country, despite what some Marines and civilians would like to believe. It is wrestling with the same social issues that civilian employers face daily.
At Parris Island, for example, single mothers (and single fathers, too) juggle family and professional responsibilities.
Staff Sergeant Velanda Milton, a 12-year Marine now serving as a drill instructor, is raising two teenage sons. She adopted the boys four years ago
%
way, it has a moral obligation
‘^Seives.
The Marines are meeting
[hat
when her sister died. DI duty consumes huge amounts of time and some DIs work 85 to 90 hours weekly. That takes a toll on family life.
“At the beginning, I felt like I was neglecting them,” she said. “I asked them and they assured me I wasn’t.”
The boys have adjusted to her schedule, she said, and try to ease the work load at home. Sergeant Milton said she’d seek an assignment at Parris Island even if she had younger children, but she doesn’t downplay the difficulties faced by women with infants and
toddlers. These Marines often han^_ career and family by building a [J' work of understanding and flexl. ^rjne babysitters, many of them from families. .
The social questions surrounding women in the service as well as ^ general work force will take year sort out. A question with a more ^ mediate answer concerns whethe longer, tougher WM training W1 . e dividends. The first graduates o ^ new training cycle, which began . ^ October, are not long out of P
^.°f the_____ ,__________ ............
Iph® any stigma of being only partly ’ Partly Marine.
'hink it will help males, too, be-
club, real Marines, while
cait!
uan’t
earry their weight,” Lieutenant
cess' lr|ey don’t know what the pro- pCrsVVas like before them, and to get a to a^ct'Ve on what it means you have w* some veterans.
drill instructors and series com- Tbeers fhink the concept is right. lon?e ls a*so a sense that this will go a Way toward making WMs mem-
*»* ested
“I
doJ, Sorr|etimes, males feel that WMs
Brown said.
Colonel Wilson also believes that the training will help, but she has some additional advice for women headed for the Fleet Marine Force.
“The one thing that I try to do when I talk with the Marines before they go out is to let them know that it is a male organization and that they are just as much a Marine as their male counterpart. They’ve gone through the same training. They’ve earned that eagle, globe, and anchor. They should wear it proudly,” she said.
“They shouldn’t try to be one of the guys because, number one, they never will be. The best way to be integrated is to be the best professional Marines that they can be.”
*he Corps might send women in
*hemVe t*lem tbe means t0 protect
obligation through this new train- g Colonel Wilson said. tar,,Csi<Jcs fitting the realities of mili- tef) Service today, this training also Am, . lbe changing role of women in >,jriCan society.
’bink it’s a combination of Pate6n Wanfing to more fully partici- ^oh ln Marine Corps,” said Major efi McLean, Parris Island’s public
Women recruits taste the pleasures of the gas chamber (top) and spend far more time than their predecessors in the field and on the firing range. Instructors at Parris Island say the more rigorous training should make it easier for women Marines to fit into the male-dominated Corps.
Ms. Kasmauski is a free-lance photographer whose work appears frequently in National Geographic and other magazines. Mr. Crews is a former Marine Corps artillery officer who is now a reporter with a newspaper in Richmond, Virginia.