USMC HUMP
Non-fiction by G. Perez

" I used to drive a Cadillac...now i'm humping with a pack ." The pain you would soon be feeling throughout your sweat soaked body will stay with you forever. From the tip of your head to deep inside your rib cage and down to the tips of each of your toes and fingers pain becomes as normal as breathing. No conditioning program could ever prepare you for one of the most feared events some Marines must endure, a Marine Corps 25-mile full combat load HUMP.

Fully combat loaded you must complete twenty five grueling miles of hiking in under eight hours. This will come out to an average just over three miles per hour. You will place one foot in front of the other while staring into the Marine in front of you for eight continuous hours. Cramps are felt as shins begin to tighten. Muscles begin to twitch and tempers begin to flare. Arms and hands will fall asleep as circulation is stopped due to being in the same position for an extended period of time. Blisters will form and skin will be rubbed raw like a strawberry. You will sweat no matter what the weather or environment around you is like. Neither rain, snow, wind, darkness, alien sightings, heat, nor humidity will put an end to this motivating event. Laughter is common to avoid from going crazy. Laughter is also false because nothing accomplished on this day will be remotely funny. Hallucinations becomes common as the miles approach double digit. A sign appears out in the distance. Is it a mirage or is it real? As you near it you wish you were blind as it reads mile six of twenty five. Stay motivated Marines!


If you trip or fall you will not be aided by anyone unless your death is imminent. To render aid to a fallen buddy who is not truly hurt would cause you to fall back from formation. Or you would cause the column of countless Marines to stack up. This type of action is not tolerated due to the fact that it would cause countless Marines to have to run to catch up to the Marine in front of them. Any unnecessary movement during this eight hour ordeal is not looked forward to. When one falls back he then must go back to his original position. This can be a very painful experience. You must sprint with over seventy pounds of life's essentials on your back. Your shrapnel vest and harness along with your weapon and extra water also create weight that seems to be ever lasting. There is no full sprint, only short quick steps while your gear rattles and bounces in the wind as you attempt to catch up. When you finally find your position you then realize you will never stop to render unnecessary aid again. You are now winded and you quickly realize you still have over five hours of forced marching to endure.

Your brain bucket, or helmet can become one huge pain in the ass. In the early miles of a hump it sits on your melon comfortably. But as the miles add up your bucket will begin to feel as if it is clawing it's way into your skull. You will try all the tricks. From removing it to wipe the sweat off your brow, to scratching the bald head on your shoulders. You will remove it to check for unwanted visitors in which you swear landed on the top of your helmet. This temporary relief is very soothing but only lasts about thirty seconds. Toward the later miles you fantasize about all the vicious things you could do to this helmet. From placing a grenade underneath it to tossing it out at sea. You relish the thought of shooting it with a fifty caliber machine gun or accidentally misplacing it underneath the tracks of an M1A1 Tank. The evil one wishes on their helmet is amazing. But in the end we realize that our brain bucket will save our lives.

Our dogs do a lot more than bark. They howl! From blisters to blisters on top of blisters satan resides in the feet of humping Jarheads. We will try everything from double socks to our favorite jungle boots used only for humping. From vaseline on skin to woman's nylons to avoid road rash. Or my secret remedy, a dress sock underneath a thick wool sock with baby powder strategically sprinkled on my hooves to avoid the god forsaken blisters. At the end of the eight hours we genius of Marines realize one thing. None of these bullshit preventive measures work. But i'll be damn if we did not try. The person of the hour quickly becomes the corpsmen as he tells you to hold still as he patches up your field of blisters. Doc will tell you to change into a pair of socks that do not contain blood and you will tell him to go to hell because the pain is unbearable. He then lets you know your good to go as you lay there wishing the ground would open up and swallow you whole. The most painful thing to do is now to put on your foot gear and continue the trek as it slows for no man. My god does this hurt!

During the ten minute breaks you get per hour you don't know what to do. Should I end it now with a cyanide pill? Or should I have a smoke and eat a banana? Maybe a gallon of warm stale water will cheer me up. Maybe not. My smokes are soaked in sweat. So now I am in a homicidal kind of mood. As I scour the columns of Marines searching for my brand of cigarettes I now hear the two words most dreaded on days like this. SADDLE UP! Oh shit. I did not utilize my time wisely and now i'm royally fucked. I'm still thirsty and my banana is still inside of it's skin. I place my nana in my pistol holster and I decide to drink as we go. After all I am not driving. This can be tricky because I am not the greatest at multi tasking. I manage to get enough h2o down my pie hole and my banana taste like crap. Prevents cramps my ass!! I am now twitching like a convict in the electric chair. Boy oh boy this is not what I envisioned when I raised my hand.

As the final five or so miles approach it no longer is a journey. It becomes an enigma as to how anyone of us keep on moving forward. The endless stare that reflects from the young and old warriors will scare any human not in his position. Cussing becomes the new language of the day as every wish is the same. We all just want this horrible nightmare to end immediately. Filthy words after filthy words can be heard by one and all as the mind is no longer in control. You become stunned in amazement as you realize what exactly is transpiring before you. You no longer want to take a break, you just wish this day of pain would end. The pain becomes comical as the sweat continues to cause your eyes to sting. Salt begins to form on some as a breeze dries the sweat on their uniforms. Brain buckets are tilted and discipline becomes a little looser as mile twenty five nears. A quick sarcastic grunt signifies happiness in some but most can not even muster the energy to let out a Marine Corps grunt. Not right now, for we have walked the walk and talked the talk. If you do not thank god for this being over you better thank someone because this truly blows the big one.

They say that pain is weakness leaving the body. They say that Marine Corps humps build character. If these two myths are true then I am filled with character and have zero weakness in my body today. The Marine Corps Infantry is the best when it comes to forced marches, therefore I am the best. I don't know how I finished the many humps we went on. We started them together and by golly we finished them together. As we stand in formation after the twenty five mile and eight hour ordeal I am quickly reminded as to why I joined. BE IN THE SHOP IN EXACTLY TWO HOURS, is our next order. What a bunch of hard asses. No day off today. It's gonna take me two hours to drag my gear and my sorry ass back to my room. Just another day in the life of the Lava Dogs. MCB Hawaii home of the 1st Battalion 3rd Marines...Come GET SOME!! God bless the Marine Corps and Semper Fi.