It is after midnight when the white bus pulls up outside the reception centre over which is inscribed "Through these portals pass prospects for America's finest fighting force. United States Marines."
The newest "prospects" climb out of the bus as three drill instructor sergeants with their distinctive "Smokey the Bear" hats bellow "move, move, move". They are told there is no more "I". From now on it is "this recruit".
The scared-looking recruits line up on the yellow footprints painted on the road; more shouts if their feet are not at the correct 45-degree angle. Then they are made run into the receiving centre through the "hatch" which is really the door, but the Marines use nautical terms. The floor is the "deck", the window is the "porthole", the toilet is the "head".
For the male recruits, the first appointment is with the barber, who in 30 seconds shaves their heads. The females are not shaved but there must be no hair hanging over the collar. The females will be trained by women instructors and apart from the males. Only the Marines insist on separate training.
Next, the recruits are rushed to phones to call home for the last time and say they have arrived at Parris Island where they will spend the next 12 weeks learning how to be a Marine.
They will not see parents or other relatives during that time. They will not read newspapers, watch TV, listen to the radio, drink alcohol, or have sex. That would be too distracting from the job at hand, which the commander of the training depot, Brigadier General Stephen Cheney, has described earlier to visiting journalists as "removing them from civilian culture to start getting our culture".
Parris Island is certainly not like the French penal colony of Devil's Island, but much of it is swamps and mud flats off the South Carolina coast, where the wild life includes alligators. Marine recruits have been trained here since 1915 and the traditions of the corps are everywhere on display such as the motto Semper Fidelis - Always Faithful. When you visit the "head" you are likely to see the "core values - honour, courage and commitment" on the wall in front of you.
One of the inlets, Ribbon Creek, was the scene of the infamous "death march" in April 1956 when a drunken drill instructor, Staff Sgt Matthew McKeon, roused a platoon from sleep and marched it into a tidal stream where six recruits drowned. The outcry forced radical reforms on the boot camp training, which today is governed by a thick volume of "procedures" laying down, for example, only three occasions when an instructor can touch a recruit. An instructor can be dismissed for swearing at the recruits or profanity.
The nervous recruits are joining a "family" which will toughen them beyond what they believed possible and will, in the words of Capt. Keith Faust, the public affairs officer, provide them with "a brother or sister wherever they go". If they make it through the, at times harrowing, 12 weeks ahead, they will earn their precious eagle, globe and anchor badge and be welcomed as marines.
The Corps prides itself on its openness, so we get to talk briefly to some of the new arrivals - still in their T-shirts and jeans but soon to collect the camouflage caps, blouses and trousers they will wear day in, day out.
Diego Portela (18) from New Jersey says he has come "to make a better life for myself". He was "not disciplined enough to go to college" after high school and will be "proud to be a Marine".
Amber Milanam (20) from Durham, North Carolina, says she is "a little bit afraid, but not too much". Her father, mother, aunt and uncle were all Marines, so it's in the family.
Will they be among the 12 per cent of the males or 18 per cent of the females who will make up the "attrition" statistics of this latest input? Or will they come through the 12 weeks of training which includes 59 hours of physical exercises, 13 hours of conditioning hikes, and 279 hours of instructional time culminating in the 54-hour-long "Crucible"?
During this final test, the recruits endure food and sleep deprivation, travel 40 miles on foot with full equipment and perform 29 problem-solving exercises.
As the new arrivals were still in a daze trying to get used to life with their relentless drill instructors, six platoons were completing the Crucible with a nine-mile forced march to the parade ground, after being roused at 3 a.m. One recruit was on crutches and many were limping. Awaiting them were their Marine Corps badges which turned them instantly from recruits into Marines.
They ended the ceremony with a tuneless rendering of the first verse of The Marines' Hymn:
From the halls of Montezuma
To the shores of Tripoli
We will fight our country's battles
In the air, on land and sea
First to fight for right and freedom
And to keep our honour clean
We are proud to claim the title of United States Marines.
Some of the newly-blooded marines had tears in their eyes as the once-dreaded drill instructors moved among them, congratulating them for having completed the transformation from an often soft, flabby teenager to a Marine. "Thank you, sir," you could hear some of them say as they held the hand of the drill instructor who over the past 12 weeks had often been a father figure as well as a tyrant.
This was for many a more emotional point than the colourful graduation ceremony on the parade ground several days later as the Marine band played and they marched and wheeled in their new uniforms, under the admiring gaze of parents and relatives marvelling at the transformation of their offspring.
As the Marines Corps, like the army, air force and navy, finds it harder to attract recruits during a booming economy with well-paid jobs beckoning, there are suspicions that standards are being lowered. The Marines insist that their boot camp induction phase is now even tougher since the former commandant of the corps, General Charles Krulak, added the Crucible ordeal to the basic training.
Gen. Krulak and other senior Marine officers feared that the American society from which they were drawing recruits was "disintegrating" and that it was vital to instil "values" such as honour, courage and commitment which young Americans were lacking. The general wanted Boot Camp to culminate in a "defining moment" which would prove, perhaps in a brutal fashion, that "your team will not make it unless you pull together".
Hence the obstacle courses are designed so that the platoon of 50 or 60 recruits can only complete them by helping each other. Signs that a recruit is thinking only of himself are pounced on by the hovering drill instructors.
During a break, the recruits gather in a tent to discuss "core values" with the instructors who prompt them to speak out.
"You are the instant gratification generation," the instructor tells them, "but now we've made you work for something for three months."
The recruits, exhausted after 36 hours of sleep deprivation, hunger and intense physical effort, express gratitude. "The drill instructors are some of the most motivating people this recruit has ever had."
"This recruit is starting to see the full picture. Every little thing had its purpose."
Minutes after this session, the recruits are staggering down an obstacle course, dragging ammunition boxes along with their equipment as the drill instructors who some "idolise", scream at them to go back and start again or jeer at their incompetence.
As a platoon sat on the ground cleaning their M-16 rifles before the next test, I talked to some of them.
Jonathan Stock, from New Jersey, with an Irish background, said he joined up because he "was not going anywhere in life". "I found myself doubting who I was, what I could do physically or mentally and just wanted to put myself to the ultimate challenge and get the title that no one could ever take from me . . . I'm probably more happy than I've ever been in my life."
Jesse Sullivan (21), from Pittsburgh, also has an Irish background and tried the Marines after three years at community college where he took business courses. "But there was something I wanted to get out, like live and learn about the world . . . I saw a lot of students come out of college who knew a lot about the subject, but not a lot about people. It seemed like they were lacking something."
What if he had to go to war? "It's scary. I thought about it, but I figured that the Lord would not put me in any situation I could not handle." The Marines "mould you into something different . . . They instil a lot of character in us and I think we're going to find that out when we go home and hang out with our friends and eat dinner with our families. That's going to really shock."
This gap opening up between the Marines and society is seen as inevitable by some and even praiseworthy. As retired Colonel Michael Wyly put it in an article in the Marine Corps Gazette: "It is no longer enough for Marines to `reflect' the society they defend. They must lead it, not politically but culturally. For it is the culture we are defending."
That process begins on Parris Island.