Few, Proud, Remarkable

Parris Island, S. C.

A morning here is invariably punctuated by shouts and yells. Standing at an area reserved for martial-arts training sometime around 7:00 a.m.—practically afternoon by Parris Island standards—I can hear platoons in the distance well before I can see them. There are the distinct barking voices of drill instructors, inevitably followed by the staccato collective answers of their platoons of recruits.