An Off-Color Story on Motivation: "Crumble the Booger"

The phrase "crumble the booger" is frequently used in our ranks but I fear that as the course grows and new participants cycle into DDIP there are many who lack perspective on the origin of the term. Hence, a case is made for once again telling the tale, so here goes...


It is worth mentioning that the majority of the stories I tell have to do with my experiences in the USMC, a mere four-year period, stretching between 1993-1997. Though I many have stories to my credit outside this window, my time served was just action-packed, as I was thrust into the dramatic process of USMC recruit training, followed by MOS (job)-specific training, and finally the meat-and-potatoes of my time-in-service, serving as a rifleman in 1st Battalion, 6th Marines - the Fleet Marine Force. Though the entirety of my service was in peacetime, the training was grueling and often downright painful, there were many sacrifices, and sometimes we hated it. However, looking back, it was a very special time in my life. We called ourselves grunt, devildog, leatherneck, ground-pounder - officially, though in casual interaction we went by our last names, or your choice of expletive. 

The below story is inspired by my Platoon Sergeant, Staff Sergeant Thomas Foresman, AKA Foresman, H.E. Foresman, "Rookie" or just Tom, if you knew him on that level. My business with the man was conducted on a professional basis, as I was the first squad leader in his platoon...I called him SSgt. Foresman. I'm disclosing his identity because, well, I don't think he would mind me telling this account, as it's very complimentary in a way, and I believe he would approve of it's use as an enabling/learning objective. And talk about story-telling, no person I have ever met is better than Tom Foresman at it; they're the kind of stories that make you roll with laughter, caring not if the story was truthful - they were that good. A captivating, hilarious story was always welcome when laying back on your ruck, waiting for the trucks to pick you up from some training area in the middle of nowhere; it passed the time.

Twenty Nine Palms, California - 1996

29 Palms or "29 Stumps" as we often referred to it, as there is really no vegetation, is a vast Marine Corps Base in the Mojave Desert. We would head out west to train there perhaps every couple years, conducting what is called a Combined Arms Exercise (CAX). Essentially, the open terrain is similar to a lot of the "hot spots" in the world right now, so CAX permits practical and coordinated, live-fire training that allows Marines to "train how they're gonna fight." Simultaneously during CAX, jets are dropping bombs, while artillery is dialed-in, and ground forces are launching their missions.

For me, Twentynine Palms was cool for the first hour or so and then the novelty wore off. During the day, it was sweltering and at night, comparatively freezing. Our equipment was always heavy, with flak jacket, Kevlar (helmet), gas mask, and a full-combat load (lots of ammo) for the live missions. 1/6 Charlie Company was the Amtrak contingent, meaning that we would move from place-to-place in a tracked, amphibious tank. We were jammed in these things like livestock, with all the aforementioned gear...driving around for hours on end and then the back of the vehicle would drop down and we'd have to rush out and conduct whatever attack was ordered. The CAX revolution would last, I dunno, two to three weeks and then we'd head back east to Camp Lejeune. When at CAX they hit us with as much training as possible so any reprieve from the heat and arduous work was welcome. Typically, this would come at the end of the day, where having trained on a particular range all day long, we would perhaps be granted a trip back to the "rear" where we would be afforded hot chow and the shelter of our corrugated steel A-frames.

On this particular day, we had run up and down this hill for hours on end, conducting attacks and being subject to the periodic barrage of tear gas and the scrutiny of the "coyotes," Marines who's job it was to grade us on our performance - "was the mission accomplished?" And the jury was in: we sucked for the most part. This seemed more part of the process than anything, I mean, sure we might have sucked for the first dozen times we ran up that hill, but you'll get good at anything with a little repetition.

Now it was dusk, and we were waiting impatiently on the trucks, who we were convinced, "took their sweet-ass time." Marines would lay back on their packs, some smoking or dipping. We would talk of home...about our girlfriends and families...how long we had left in the Corps etc. And SSgt. Foresman would tell his stories. All stories would inevitably start with, "Hey OB, check this out. True story - no shit!"

On this particular occasion, Rookie was telling the tale of "Mrs. Baltimore, Maryland," or was it a story about the fight that he got into with the Aussies that one time? There are so many stories that Foresman would tell, but Crumble the Booger is not about the details of the tale, but more how he would tell it. Tom got into the story, and Marines would hear him start up with his trademark line, mentioned above, stop what they were doing and meander over to listen in and see it told. You see, Foresman would attack that story with the very same ferocity with which he assaulted the hillside: "so check it out, OB, true story, NO SHIT. I was home on leave right, and..." While telling this story, he stuck his thumb and forefinger deep into one rather sizable nostril and pulled out a crusty, Mojave Desert-dehydrated and gunpowder-laden booger. He then proceeded to tell his story flawlessly, while crumbling the booger and watching it fall to the ground. He was a focused story-teller and often one of the most crude individuals you could ever meet, but he was switched on all the time. I always admired how very focused he could be under duress, mixing rigorous training and the elements beating down with comedy and story-telling. In the thick of it, I always felt that he would be the right guy to have by your side in combat; the type of Marine that would likely keep a unit intact in combat, as well as its spirits high, bolstered by his crude and humorous stories, in the toughest of times.

My point? You gotta stay focused and keep a light heart. Whistle while you work, regardless the task, or if you prefer, Crumble the Booger!