The recruits that picked me up stayed with me, calling for a DI and they came running over, they tried to pick me up and stand me up, but it was no use, my legs weren't holding my weight. So they dragged me to the shack and I sat there for about an hour while the DI's ask what hurt, and how bad it was. I tried several more times to support my weight but I kept falling, but I kept trying. After about two hours I was able to stand and if I could stand, in my mind, I could run. Well, it didn't turn out that way. I could barely walk. My SDI told me, if I wanted to get some Motrin, I needed to walk to medical and walk back with him walking next to me. When I wanted to stop just for a second, he screamed,"One more step, your almost there!" And I kept moving. I learned there that my body will do what I tell it to, one more step is all I need, the same ideal we are taught when we were training, “He's my brother, he's not heavy, I am my brother's keeper...” when we did buddy drills for PT, picking one recruit up on our shoulders and carrying him and then changing positions. I got about half way there, and fell, he was quiet, didnt say anything, but said you aint quittin on me are you? I slapped the ground, mad at myself for falling short of my goal. I jumped back to my feet and continued to walk, about 20 feet from a picnic table he ran forward, I figured he was going to stop traffic in the road 30 feet ahead. He didn't, he turned around and said its right there, pointing he walked back and motivated me to hobble faster, I made it to the picnic table and instead of using it to lean on I walked by it, and SDI Sgt Turner laughed and said good job, now sit, and without thinking, my legs folded up underneath me and I fell to the ground. Dearly regretting that decision shortly after I was told to stay and he would get me some crutches, even with those, I was moving slow. I finally got into medical and they told me to take my trousers off. I dropped them showing my bright red burning hot legs with a lil road rash on them, nothing too bad from what I thought, but both docs said, “There's nothing we can do here for him, he has Cellulitus in both legs, he needs to be admitted to Beaufort Naval Hospital." SDI Sgt Turner said no way i'm keeping him and we left, the rest of the day I was icing down my legs and but he had already made arrangements to get me my medical treatment, he was just keeping me long enough to be able to pick up on Training Day 35 after I get out and am fully recovered again. The next morning, I wasnt feeling too good after nailing my head on my rack trying to get out of bed again, and again. DI Sgt McLeyea came around screaming, “GET UP RECRUIT! WHAT'S WRONG WITH YOU? GET UP AND OUT OF THE RACK AND ON LINE NOW!” I tried and tried but I couldn't stand without holding on to something. It was then that the final decision was made...“SCHOTTMILLER!!!” "Yes sir?" “Go get in the truck NOW!” and with an "AYE SIR!" It was the last I saw of my platoon... I had spent about two weeks in the hospital so far, before my mom found out what had happened, I got to call home, and talk to them, everything was ok. I just been laying in a bed for two weeks. “Only on meds, swelling has gone down a little bit but nothings happened, doc said I could return to my platoon soon mom. I love you guys. I'll talk to you later.” It was short and sweet, and got all the facts down, but it was over so quickly. About another ten days had passed before they were to clean my legs up, and get me ready to process me out. Frequent visits from the Chaplin kinda made me wonder if I was like the main event or something? But then the day came I got word that they were going to clean my legs up for me and I would be good to go soon. Two men came in and got me from my room, put me in a wheelchair and took me into the basement. I'll spare you the details here but I woke up a few hours, about eight hours later with holes in my legs, about the size of a 50 cent piece and they were stuffed with gauze. Every few hours they would come in, pull out about 4 feet of gauze in both legs and repack them. Pain that morphine couldn’t touch threw me back into sleep... About three weeks later, after lots of therapy and detoxing from the meds, I was released on sticks. My legs still had open wounds and were pretty well wrapped up. I went back to my platoon walked up 3 flights of stairs. With a smile on my face walked through the hatch and looked and saw everyone... I felt like I didn't belong... so I slapped my own hatch, and screamed, "RECRUIT ON DECK!!" They all looked up and jaws dropped, some dropped their scuz brushes as SDI Sgt Turner yelled, "SCHOTTMILLER!! SIT DOWN OVER THERE!"

I had spent about two weeks in the hospital so far, before my mom found out what had happened, I got to call home, and talk to them, everything was ok, I just been laying in a bed for two weeks. “Only on meds, swelling has gone down a little bit but nothings happened, doc said I could return to my platoon soon mom I love you guys ill talk to you later.” It was short and sweet, and got all the facts down, but it was over so quickly. About another ten days had passed before they were to clean my legs up, and get me ready to process me out. Frequent visits from the chaplin kinda made me wonder if I was like the main event or something? But then the day came I got word that they were going to clean my legs up for me, and I would be good to go soon. Two men came in and got me from my room, put me in a wheelchair and took me into the basement. Ill spare you the details here but I woke up a few hours, about eight hours later with holes in my legs, about the size of 50 cent piece and they were stuffed with gauze. Every few hours they would come in, pull out about 4 feet of gauze in both legs and re pack them. Pain that morphine couldn’t touch threw me back into sleep... About three weeks later, lots of therapy, and detoxing from the meds, I was released on sticks, my legs still having open wounds, and pretty well wrapped up I went back to my platoon walked up 3 flights of stairs with a smile on my face walked through the hatch and looked and saw everyone... I felt like I didnt belong... so I slapped my own hatch, and screamed RECRUIT ON DECK!! they all looked up and jaws dropped, some dropped their scuz brushes as SDI Sgt Turner yelled SCHOTTMILLER!! SIT DOWN OVER THERE!

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