Balboa

Balboa

(Receiving: Corpsmen investigate a possible heart issue. This recruit is finally learning that we are all members of one body.)

conte, ink, pencil and colored chalk on paper

39" x 50"

During the initial medical screening at the Marine Corps Recruit Depot in San Diego, it came out that my doctor 'back home' suggested I might have a heart murmur, and I was looked at by Navy doctors onboard the depot, then sent to Balboa Naval Hospital for some further examination. Turned out I just have a scrawny, slightly concave chest that can have an effect on the sound of my heart, but shouldn't be an issue. This rather individual experience happened in the midst of a week intended to strip the individual away from the person. Considering that the oath of enlistment uses the words 'I' or 'me' six times (nearly ten percent of the total oath is first-person personal pronouns), we recruits were forbidden from using those words at all. 'I' was 'This recruit'. 'You' might be 'Drill Instructor Sergeant Mata' or, in the most vague terms allowed, 'Sir' or 'Ma'am'. This first week was even less personal/individual than later times would be, since we were all packed in tight and vaccinated, or required to fill out paperwork, or to listen to the same instructions, with no individuation in activity, punishment or reward. I'm pretty sure we were pretty much in shock still. The white letterhead references a letter sent from the commanding officer of the recruit depot to the parents of each recruit, effectively warning them that it was common for mail home to include threats of desertion or complaints of misery, but he promised we were being treated fairly and humanely, if firmly.