Eighteen unnaturally quiet individuals sit motionless as their clothes gather pools of nervous sweat, which echoes their unanimous belief that they made a terrible mistake. Questions such as, “What have you done?” and “When can we leave?” occupy their thoughts, while the driver smiles as if he enjoys their trepidation.

The bus slices through the primal darkness and blinding fog like an osprey with a tail wind. The passengers sense that their conveyance thrives on fear and relishes haste.

Thirteen weeks from now they will laugh, recalling their first hours on the island with a smile, but 13 weeks is 91 days and 91 days can seem like an eternity at 2 a.m.
As the bus jerks to a halt, the four tires and 18 hearts stop. The front door folds open and the silence screams “run.”

One of the first items that recruits will receive is a Smart Card, which is similar to an Automatic Teller Machine card. It is one of the only forms of money that recruits are allowed to use during recruit training.

Confident footsteps are heard approaching as the most intimidating person the young men have ever seen enters the bus like a statue on wheels. “Get off my bus,” screams Mr. Strangehat. For a second no one moves, as if salvation lies within their dampened seats.

Recruiting commercials and fire breathing monsters dance through their heads, as their new friend shows no signs of slowing down or shutting up. The confused passengers stumble into the moonlit street to find another statue directing them to stand on sets of yellow footprints that are worn from years of devil pups’ first steps.

Recruits are given time to make one phone call home as soon as they arrive aboard The Depot. The short call must follow strict guidelines. ‘This is recruit Smith. I arrived safely on Parris Island. Do not send any food or bulky items. I will contact you in three to five days via postcard with my address. Bye.’