Kew is for Quantico
Joe Kewish, WG'06
Issue date: 9/26/05 Section: Insider
On September 15, 2005, while many of you were busy enjoying the Whalasa Pub, 88 of your fellow classmates were on their way down to the Marine Corps Officer Candidates School (OCS), in Quantico, Virginia. We chatted politely as we rode along, eating our standard-issue Wharton box lunches and nervously watching Saving Private Ryan, which was playing on the bus video system (thanks a lot, organizers). Little did we know that we would be returning home on that highway a changed group of people after 24 hours of sheer panic, confusion, and physical exhaustion.
This sought-after Leadership Venture has continued to grow in popularity, both among Wharton students and the Marines that host us. When we arrived at Marine Corps Base Quantico we were quickly ushered into a small auditorium where we had the privilege of hearing a presentation on Marine Corps Leadership from the commanding officer of OCS, Colonel Louis N. Rachal. This was an informative discussion where we were able to catch a glimpse of the highly structured and well prepared approach the Marine Corps takes to identifying and training its officers. Later that night, when utter chaos reigned, we kept trying to remind ourselves that there was a method to this madness.
Shortly after the Colonel's presentation, we were "turned over" to six of his staff members. These were the Marines-the majority of them Gunnery Sergeants-who train the classes of officer candidates throughout the year. They marched to the front in an impressively crisp and disciplined manner, calmly briefed us on the activities we would be doing shortly, and then all hell broke loose.
There is a brotherhood between those who have completed the Venture that is hard to penetrate. When I asked my friends who attended last year what to expect, I got the same response from each of them. A sly smile came across their face, they nodded and say, "Oh, you'll have a lot of fun. I don't want to spoil it for you." Gee, thanks guys. Well now I'm part of that group and I'm not going to spoil the surprise here in the pages of The Wharton Journal. Let's just say that my first indication of real trouble came when we ran into the men's barracks. As the Gunnery Sergeants screamed at us to "get on the line at our racks," some poor soul had decided to bring his leftover sandwich with him. A Marine noticed this and suddenly that sandwich whizzed by my head, disintegrated into a million pieces, and rained onto the floor. It was going to be a long night.
This sought-after Leadership Venture has continued to grow in popularity, both among Wharton students and the Marines that host us. When we arrived at Marine Corps Base Quantico we were quickly ushered into a small auditorium where we had the privilege of hearing a presentation on Marine Corps Leadership from the commanding officer of OCS, Colonel Louis N. Rachal. This was an informative discussion where we were able to catch a glimpse of the highly structured and well prepared approach the Marine Corps takes to identifying and training its officers. Later that night, when utter chaos reigned, we kept trying to remind ourselves that there was a method to this madness.
Shortly after the Colonel's presentation, we were "turned over" to six of his staff members. These were the Marines-the majority of them Gunnery Sergeants-who train the classes of officer candidates throughout the year. They marched to the front in an impressively crisp and disciplined manner, calmly briefed us on the activities we would be doing shortly, and then all hell broke loose.
There is a brotherhood between those who have completed the Venture that is hard to penetrate. When I asked my friends who attended last year what to expect, I got the same response from each of them. A sly smile came across their face, they nodded and say, "Oh, you'll have a lot of fun. I don't want to spoil it for you." Gee, thanks guys. Well now I'm part of that group and I'm not going to spoil the surprise here in the pages of The Wharton Journal. Let's just say that my first indication of real trouble came when we ran into the men's barracks. As the Gunnery Sergeants screamed at us to "get on the line at our racks," some poor soul had decided to bring his leftover sandwich with him. A Marine noticed this and suddenly that sandwich whizzed by my head, disintegrated into a million pieces, and rained onto the floor. It was going to be a long night.