I still have nightmares about this one event: A 5-mile hauling-butt run over gravel that was the consistency of greasy marbles carrying a full combat load: Flak jacket, full load of blank ammo, weapons (I carried an M2 receiver with the bolt inside plus my rifle), helmet, ALICE pack, and two MREs in my cargo pockets.
It was just horrible. Running too fast to drink water, and I was dying for just a drop. When we were through, just about everyone was flipping around on the deck like a fish out of water. I think I drank two gallons of hot water from one of those plastic salmon-colored jerry cans that had been baking in the sunlight all day. It was the second to the last day of MCT, and as a 'reward' for graduating, we got three whole days leave before we reported to SOI (restricted to immediate area), except for time to pack our trash. I spent the entire first day of leave in Mainside Camp LeJeune at the Navy hospital. After the Doc looked my legs over for shin splints, a nurse just gave me a bottle of Motrin and told me to rest in the straggler's area watching TV. They know you're messed up if you're a sick-bay commando with a 72-hour pass.
I came back to Camp Geiger on the bus later that night, and everyone -- I mean everyone -- was asleep in their racks. Not one person requested an off-base pass. Our new troophandler just threw me my bedding, and told me to find a rack and not wake anyone. Some officer came by and told him 'All these Marines are on a three-day leave. No duty for them. Just leave them alone.'