Story #2244

First day of BMQ (Basic military Qualification), at CFLRS (Canadian Forces Leadership and Recruit School). Our platoon is slowly arriving piecemeal in cabs from the airport, and most of us arrived on morning flights and made it to the base well before noon. I arrived at 07:00 , with 2 other recruits from my home city. For the most part our home CFRCs prepped us very well for how to present ourselves upon arrival and advised us to pack light, arrive clean shaven and to speak in the most polite fashion possible until we learn how to properly address real soldiers and instructors. We all followed this good adivce best we could, and handed our cab and flight receipts to MCpl. S for reimbursment.

Sgt. M, who stands about 5’8, and has a very large round build, our senior most instructor shows us to a large auditorium where we are the first 3 of 64 on his list to arrive. And we waited with our civi gear in the room all day, and by about 10:45 all but one of our platoon had arrived and Sgt.M commented to MCpl S. in front of our assembled platoon (very loudly) that he was impressed that the entire platoon may have enough common sense not to waste his time, and that getting a half day headstart on our entry paperwork might even brighten his day. Of course this is where we all should have realized shit was gonna go wrong.

We are now 5 minutes from the latest possible time for recruits to arrive, and the neutral tone of our assembled instructors has turned very hostile. The quiet chatter of 63 recruits mingling and meeting their new brothers in arms died down hours ago and an uneasy quietness sat in the air. Thats when Pvt. D arrived at the door to the auditorium. A 19 year old kid from Toronto, about 6’1, lean build. He is wearing Oakley sunglasses inside the building, has long hair, has a pencil thin moustache, and is wearing an armani shirt, designer ripped jeans and converse sneakers that wouldnt have been out of place in a 90s rap video. Sgt Y was first to chew him out, and Pvt. D responded with an indifferent and slightly arrogant question about where to get reimbursed. He proceeds across the room to present his receipts to MCpl S, who in turn looks st the recruit incredulously upon discovering his flight had arrived at 10:30 and his cab receipt was from a local Bar to the barracks. Pvt. D had stopped to have a couple beer and some chow and kept the entire platoon waiting. As mad as all the instructors clearly were, Sgt. M reminded them they are still on schedule, and ordered us to get our shit and move out following Mcpl S to our pods (barracks room).

As we shuffled towards the door, Sgt M snickered out loud snd said “Nice shoes” to Pvt D, following up with a meancing smile -“Hope you can run fast in those”. Pvt.D looked down at our small, chubby head instructor and replied “Faster than you”.

That was the last day we ever saw a smile from Sgt. M, as his face turned a horrifying shade of red, and he grabbed the recruits civi shit and tossed it to me ordering me to carry it to the pod as Pvt. D had somewhere else to be.

2 hours later, as the rest of us are getting chewed out by our instructors for the stupid civi shit we brought with us as we unpack, Pvt. D arrived, short of breath, sweat staining his designer threads, vomit caked in his long hair and on the front of his armani shirt. Sgt. M decided Pvt. D should run laps on a stomach full of beer and fried battered fish around the training center. Pvt. D was weeded out of course and requested a VR (voluntary release) 3 weeks into course. Sgt.M figured the military didn’t suit his delicate constitution.

CFLRS 2007