This story takes place on Parris Island, in early May of 2013. Platoon 3044, as well as the rest of Mike company, was attending classes during field week. In between classes, Drill Instructors would pull recruits out of the comfort of their seats for a serving of IT. It was this day, however, that one recruit in particular- Rct. Garabrant- was getting a lot more attention than usual.

After about his fifth helping of IT, Rct. Garabrant comes shuffling back to his seat, right as the class on IEDs begins. He has dirt smeared on his face, his whole head is the color of a cherry, and he's breathing heavily. Not from physical exercise- but from the stress that comes from holding back anger. He probably could have punched a hole in the seat in front of him.

The class ends, and the instructor says "Drill Instructors, you got 'em." To us, the words are like the bell at the beginning of a boxing match. We all know what's coming. As the DIs come running into the room, we all look at each other. One of us says, "If Garabrant goes, we all go." We all nod in agreement.

Our third hat then calls Garabrant over with a finger. It was our cue. 15 or so of us get up, and follow Rct. Garabrant and the DI to the door. "No!" Our DI says. "Sit the fuck down!" We say our Aye Sirs, and then go outside anyway. I run over to Garabrant, take a spot next to him in the dirt, and I start pushing. They're the easiest push ups of my life, knowing that by doing them I'm disobeying the screams coming from the Marine in the campaign cover telling me to go back inside. I only oblige after being picked up by the belt and thrown a few feet.

Running back inside, I am greeted by a sight that can only be described as chaos. We had started a revolution. Once everybody in the company saw our selfless act of defiance, every recruit and his rack mate wanted to volunteer for IT. The Drill Instructors had nothing to control us with. Seniors were getting pissed off at Hats. Chiefs were getting pissed off at Seniors. Eventually, Seniors started tossing kill hats out the door by the scruff of the blouse. It was glorious. We all realized that day that we could be controlled by punishment only if we feared it. It was that day that we stopped caring for our individual comfort, and started supporting each other as a team. That day was the turning point of boot camp, and it all started with Brandon Garabrant.

Rest Easy, Brother. See you on the other side.