SO THIS IS FRIENDSHIP

At Ease, Devil Dog

There are mornings when you wake up five minutes before your alarm, feel strangely productive, and think, Wow, maybe I finally have my life together.

And then there are mornings when you hear someone banging on your door and realize you have approximately thirty seconds to decide whether you're going to make formation or become a cautionary tale.

Today was the second one.

I had completely slept through PT. Not "I hit snooze once" slept through PT. I mean my body had apparently decided PT was a suggestion.

I was still completely unconscious when I heard someone banging on my door. The second I realized what was happening, I started running. I don't remember standing up. I don't remember getting out of bed. I don't even remember putting my feet on the floor.

One second I was asleep. The next, I was running around my room like someone had announced there was free food at Taco Bell.

I opened the door. It was my buddy.

He had come all the way to my building to wake me up. And instead of looking at me like I had committed some unforgivable crime against the Marine Corps, he just looked at me and basically said:

"Bro, hurry up"

No judgment. No lecture. Just urgency.

Which was exactly what I needed because I was currently operating with the brain function of a houseplant.

He came inside while I started putting on my boots and Utes.

I was moving as fast as humanly possible, which unfortunately is not very fast when you're trying to put on boots while your soul is still loading. And because apparently I become a comedian during moments of extreme danger, I suddenly had what I believed was a brilliant idea.

I looked at him and said:

"Just in case they ask why I took that long, you say you couldn't find my room"

He stopped. Looked at me. And gave me the kind of looked a friend gives you when they are seriously considering whether they should continue being associated with you.

"They're not gonna believe it" he said. "They know we're really good friends"

He looked at me like I just proposed hiding from the entire platoon inside a vending machine.

And honestly? He had a point.

There are certain lies that requires planning. "I couldn't find his room" was not one of them. Especially when this guy had literally just walked into my room.

We finally made it downstairs. And then we saw them. The group. The entire group. With the Cpl.

And they were coming toward my building. Toward my room.

At that exact moment, I realized my buddy had possibly saved my life. Because if he hadn't come to wake me up, there was a very good chance that the next thing I would've experienced that morning was my door being absolutely demolished by the Cpl yelling my name.

Imagine waking up to that. You don't even get the luxury of opening your eyes first. You just hear:

"GET THE FUCK UP!"

And suddenly you're standing at parade rest in your underwear, one boot on, no idea what day it is, trying to remember your own social security number, and somehow convinced you're about to be courtmartialed.

My buddy didn't just wake me up. He bought me time. Precious, beautiful, legally questionable amounts of time.

I still got blasted later. Obviously. This is the Marine Corps. There is no "you made it, good job" ending.

But at least I didn't get blasted immediately after opening my eyes. That's what I call a win.

And then came PT. Which was, to put it professionally, absolute ass.

The Cpl was yelling. We ran. We carried ammo cans. We lifted a tire.

At some point I was lifting the tire thinking, I joined the Marine Corps voluntarily. That sentence has never sounded more embarrassing. There is something deeply humbling about being half awake while carrying heavy objects and being yelled at by someone who appears to have been awake since the invention of electricity.

And somehow, between the running, the ammo cans, the tire, and my lungs filing a formal complaint against me, I kept thinking about the guy who had just saved me from getting destroyed at my own door.

I've only been a my unit in Okinawa for two weeks.

Two weeks. And this guy has already been there everyday. Which is kind of how friendship happens in the Marine Corps. You don't really plan them. You just show up somewhere new, know absolutely nobody, and then suddenly there's a guy who knows where you live.

A guy who will cross the barracks to wake you up. A guy who will roast your terrible alibi before you even finish explaining it. And, apparently, a guy who is willing to risk being associated with you in front of your Cpl.

That's a pretty serious commitment. Because Marine friendships aren't always sentimental. Sometimes friendship is someone saying "Get the fuck up". Sometimes it's someone running across the barracks because they know you're about to get destroyed. Sometimes it's laughing at the dumbest excuse you've ever heard. And sometimes it's carrying a tire together at 0530 while both of you silently question every decision that brought you there.

Maybe that's the funny thing about getting to a new unit. You arrive thinking you're just meeting people. And then, two weeks later, there's already someone who knows your room, and apparently your inability to wake up like a functioning adult.

I couldn't help but wonder...

How long does it actually take to make a good friend in the Marine Corps?

Well, apparently about two weeks.

And one very aggressive knock on the door.

by PFC Llorenti, Rocco