An OCS Failure

When I went through Officer Candidate School (OCS), I refused to let myself think of failure. Since I was enlisted before I arrived, I would have returned to my enlisted community if I had gotten kicked out. And then my detailer would have his way with me. Any “hot-fills” he had trouble filling would of been mine for the involuntary taking. Here is the story of Greg Fisk, an Officer Candidate who did not make it. He lasted less than a week. And while I went through OCS in Pensacola, he was at the new OCS in Newport, Rhode Island. Not an impressive showing, but he was honest with his retelling of the experience. You gotta want it. . .

8 thoughts on “An OCS Failure”

  1. That is an open honest piece from Greg Fisk.

    Quick ‘dit’ to finish the weekend.

    When I joined up I found my name tally on a bunk next to a bloke who appeared to have the whole world under his control; a real barrack room lawyer who knew every thing and every one. He was a typical (loud) Londoner and as such his civvie attire was ‘in vogue’ (to me he had the dress sense of a rodeo clown). But hey; I was from the North-East, and as he often pointed out “you f*****g lot still wear cloth caps, white silk scarves and wooden clogs?

    His blather went on for around a week, which eventually started grinding us all down.

    He obviously had a chip on his shoulder, and tended to voice his opinions more towards the smaller targets around the other bunks. It was inevitable that he was cruising for a bruising; I was fortunate enough to be present when it happened.

    One Friday evening he picked on a young bloke from Glasgow, (I detest and despise any form of bullying). I was just about to step in and nip it in the bud when the little ‘Jock’ squared up to the 6’ cockney and called his bluff.

    The cockney threw a punch that was blocked and parried away… Almost in a blur the little Glaswegian terrier threw a left open-palm-slap to the side of his opponents head, whilst at the same time his right leg stretched up and popped him on the right side of his head. The Londoner’s lights went out immediately; as he fell forwards the Glaswegian grabbed him and assisted his fall gracefully to the ground, laying him in the coma position. I almost wet myself laughing…

    Silence continued from that day forward.

    The Londoner did not make the grade and was kicked out after week 12, which was a shame as he turned out to be a half decent bloke. (Young ‘Jock’ passed with flying colours).

    It ‘aint’ the size of the dog in the fight; it’s the size of the fight in the dog…

    With respect and sincerity; Greg Fisk appeared to be hungry, but not hungry enough.

    Yours Aye.

    1. Your story reminds me of my high school teaching days. I had a class of all boys who had failed English several times. It was my job to try and teach them something – I loved those guys. One day in the middle of class, Gary Gorilla (big kid – not his real name) went over to his buddy’s, Little Archuleta, desk and began talking seriously and pointing his finger. I had just told Gary to set down for the second time and was starting towards the two, when Little Archuleta came up out of his desk and punched Gary in the nose. Splat! Blood and desks went flying, and Gary went backwards. The other boys in the class jumped up and grabbed both boys, but the fight was over. Later, when I asked Archuleta why he had hit his friend, Archuleta said, “Gary is a lot bigger than me, and he looked pretty mad. I though he was going to start swinging, so I thought I had better hit him first and hit him hard.” I have to admit that it was impressive and a good lesson.

  2. The only thing that bothers me about this is the guy/gal who did not get to give it a shot because Mr Fisk took the slot.

  3. “OCS” stands for Officer Candidate School? We grunts thought it meant “over choppy seas.” Who knew?

    1. And I thought that we had problems with TLA’s…

      After basic training my first week in a RM Commando Unit was an absolute nightmare trying to get my head around Three Letter Abbreviation’s…

      I, as well as the rest of the ‘sprogs’ who joined that day was given a TLA list, without being told what T-L-A stood for.

      The (Irish) Sgt Maj of my newly appointed fighting company even spoke to me in T-L-A’s as he issued a Unit joining card, which required various stamps from different departments around the base; each department typed on the card was a T-L-A?

      (To this day I am convinced his hairy knuckles dragged the floor as he turned and walked away).

      What I would give to turn the clock back and start all over again, including the full 9 months basic training.

  4. As one who NPQ’ed out of AOCS due to separated shoulder, and then went through OCS six months later, then BACK through P’cola for NFO, it is obvious he just didn’t want it… And most of the comments were pretty stupid. NO officer program in the Navy or Marines is easy… They are not designed to be! In the early 80’s when I went through, you got no second chance, flunk a test, or a flight, ONE pink sheet and you were gone. In talking to folks at P’cola that had done some research, they said it was roughly 1:100,000 for those that actually got their wings vs. the initial applications received.

  5. EB: I will give Greg Fisk points for honesty. And your story of the Londoner and the Glaswegian is priceless. I hate bullying too, with a passion. Bullies never pick a fair fight. . .
    Lou: Gary Gorilla? Is he a Bosun’s Mate? I think I may know him!
    Flugelman: Very good point. Some poor Enlisted guy or civilian lost his spot.
    Struan: Over Choppy Seas? Haha!
    Old NFO: 1 in a hundred thousand? Wow.

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