Ever since I was little, I have always wanted to become a Marine. Two years ago, I was given the opportunity to visit Parris Island, where Marines are trained. It was truly a once in a lifetime opportunity. But one thing still made me quiver: a forty-seven-foot rappel tower that I was told we must go down. Ever since I was little, the Parris Island rappel tower was not something I took lightly. My dad, a Marine himself, told me about the fear he felt when he went down it. I had always figured that by the time I was able to join the Marines I would have miraculously gained courage that I didn’t possess then.
But now here I stood; 14 years old, yet still so much a child inside. I could hear my boots clattering off the grated metal steps as I …show more content…
I remembered what the drill instructor told us before we began to walk up the stairs, “Once you put your foot on that first step, there’s only one way you are coming back to the ground,” he said, as he pointed up at the ominous looking wall.
The line pushed me forward, and I was forced to climb higher towards the top of the tower. As I approached the hatch at the top, I bit my lip to keep from shaking violently. My boots rang out against the thin steel planking as
I took a few steps out on to the top of the tower. I could see the tops of pine trees reaching mere feet above the top of the tower. I watched as my fellow cadets went down the tower, either by choice or shoved over the side in tears. “I’m going to do this,” I thought, “because this is who I want to be.”
As I looked up, I realized I was at the head of the line now, and I spotted a grouchy looking Marine …show more content…
I stepped forward towards the edge of the tower where he stood. “Put your left hand on the yellow!” he barked. “Aye sir,” I said quietly. “AH YEA RIGHT! PUT YOUR LEFT HAND ON THE YELLOW!” “AYE SIR!” “Alright,” he said, calming down a little now. “Repeat after me. One down!” he said as he slid the rope into the carabineer.
“One down,” I replied. “One around!” he said. “One around,” I replied. “Two down!” “Two down.” “Lock the gate!” “Lock the gate.” “Gate is locked!” “Gate is locked.” Then he looked up at me with a bit of a knowing, compassionate look. “You ready kid?” he said quietly. I gulped and held tightly to my rope, “Yes sir.”
“Grip the rope, I’m lowering you over!” His compassionate manner had disappeared as quickly as it came.
“Shoot your hand out 3 o’clock!” “Aye sir!” “LOOK OVER YOUR RIGHT SHOULDER!” I turned my head to the side to catch a fleeting image of the hot, sticky ground below. “GO! GET OFF MY TOWER!” I rushed backwards towards the ground and, just moments later, my feet impacted softly on the rubber sawdust at the bottom.
As Brendan Francis, an Irish poet from the mid-20th century, once said, “Many of our fears are tissue paper thin, and a single courageous step would carry us clear through them.” For years and years, I had feared
But now here I stood; 14 years old, yet still so much a child inside. I could hear my boots clattering off the grated metal steps as I …show more content…
I remembered what the drill instructor told us before we began to walk up the stairs, “Once you put your foot on that first step, there’s only one way you are coming back to the ground,” he said, as he pointed up at the ominous looking wall.
The line pushed me forward, and I was forced to climb higher towards the top of the tower. As I approached the hatch at the top, I bit my lip to keep from shaking violently. My boots rang out against the thin steel planking as
I took a few steps out on to the top of the tower. I could see the tops of pine trees reaching mere feet above the top of the tower. I watched as my fellow cadets went down the tower, either by choice or shoved over the side in tears. “I’m going to do this,” I thought, “because this is who I want to be.”
As I looked up, I realized I was at the head of the line now, and I spotted a grouchy looking Marine …show more content…
I stepped forward towards the edge of the tower where he stood. “Put your left hand on the yellow!” he barked. “Aye sir,” I said quietly. “AH YEA RIGHT! PUT YOUR LEFT HAND ON THE YELLOW!” “AYE SIR!” “Alright,” he said, calming down a little now. “Repeat after me. One down!” he said as he slid the rope into the carabineer.
“One down,” I replied. “One around!” he said. “One around,” I replied. “Two down!” “Two down.” “Lock the gate!” “Lock the gate.” “Gate is locked!” “Gate is locked.” Then he looked up at me with a bit of a knowing, compassionate look. “You ready kid?” he said quietly. I gulped and held tightly to my rope, “Yes sir.”
“Grip the rope, I’m lowering you over!” His compassionate manner had disappeared as quickly as it came.
“Shoot your hand out 3 o’clock!” “Aye sir!” “LOOK OVER YOUR RIGHT SHOULDER!” I turned my head to the side to catch a fleeting image of the hot, sticky ground below. “GO! GET OFF MY TOWER!” I rushed backwards towards the ground and, just moments later, my feet impacted softly on the rubber sawdust at the bottom.
As Brendan Francis, an Irish poet from the mid-20th century, once said, “Many of our fears are tissue paper thin, and a single courageous step would carry us clear through them.” For years and years, I had feared