It is a given that CRC is a total suck-fest (just ask anyone that went) but the experience was not all bad nor was it without some moments of humor. Beyond hurry-up-and-wait and Death by PowerPoint it seems that everyone at CRC becomes and expert in complaining loudly and openly and telling tall tales which generally become more outrageous depending on how many times they are told…sort of the CRC version of the “fish story” but with all the bubbas around they were actually deer and boar hunting stories. One particular dude enjoyed telling tall tales about the number of prostitutes he has purchased with the number rising with geometric progression related to the number of beers that he’d consumed.
Most of the social life at CRC (outside of class, chow and the DFAC) takes place in the gazebos which are the only authorized smoking areas on post. As mentioned before we were treated as quasi-adults and did have access to beer…I guess it was really the last time that we’d be legally able to drink for a year.
The bubbas, being the inventors that they are, found a way to keep the beers cold during the warm nights in Georgia…the only type of luggage that we’re authorized is soft-sided duffel bags…no hard-sided or wheeled suitcases. Given that rule (which the CRC cadre enforce with ruthless efficiency) there was luggage piled up near the trash bins. Being green-minded, of course, we engaged in a bit of recycling…behold the Redneck Cooler:
Other than some personal time in the evening (which was welcome) I was quite ready to leave CRC in the rearview mirror. As someone noted… “only the Army could devise a way to make you desperate to get to Iraq as quick as humanly possible.”
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