A few things I'll never tell my Recruit Division Commander

Recruit Division Commanders (RDC) = Drill instructors. But you don't call them Drill instructors, if you want to keep your life.

1) That I love my rack (bed) . Most of my life, I haven't had a bed to sleep on, so when I do have one, I practically revere it. I don't care how many times he makes me strip it only to make it up again (and I imagine that will be many, many times) it's still my place to sleep.

2) I've had 5,000 hours of drill (thank you, band camp). It's one thing to say you know all the fundamentals, it's another duck entirely when you can do all the fundamentals while double timing backwards. No, I think I'll keep that to myself.

3) I'm a little scared of guns. No, I'm really scared of guns. This doesn't mean I'm going to get out of qualifying on 9 mm pistol and M16 rifle. It's a case of Suck it up, bitch.

4) Whenever I take out the trash, it makes me feel nauseated. Fine, I'll toss my cookies into this bag, and then tie it up and throw it out. Suck it up... err, no. Carry some breath mints?

But most of all

5) He can't make me unhappy. Although it's absolutely true, if I say that, I think the RDC will take it as a challege to make my life as hellish as possible.