Did stuttering have any bearing on your decision to join the military?


I was born with a stutter; it’s always been with me. In 2003, my college grades were poor, and I didn’t have any real career prospects ahead of me. Rather than studying, I had fallen into the party scene because I wanted to be cool and accepted. I lacked confidence and trained myself to sit in the back of the room and stay quiet. Despite my failures, I had enough foresight to know that I needed a change, and I needed it fast. Several friends of mine were joining the military, and they encouraged me to come with them and find out more. I spoke with some Marine Corps recruiters and made the decision that joining would give me the tools I needed to turn my life around.


Before joining, did you have any concerns about how your stutter would impact your ability to serve?


Naturally, I was nervous about how my stutter would impact my ability to serve. Up until that time in my life, I’d made it my mission to make myself invisible, at least as it related to school. I knew that joining the military would push me into uncomfortable situations and experiences.


Did you discuss your stutter with superiors or fellow service members when you first began serving? Were you teased?


During the recruiting process, I did discuss my stutter with my recruiting team. I had no knowledge or experience to speak of, so I leaned heavily on their advice. They told me that my stutter would create challenges, but nothing that I couldn’t overcome. While I was nervous about bootcamp, I knew I needed a significant change in my life; it was worth the risk.


Surviving basic training (bootcamp) with a stutter is no joke. Most of the time, I was able to get through each day without too much trouble. No one “talks” in bootcamp... they shout, and shout in unison. When the drill instructor gives a command, the entire platoon shouts “Aye Sir” at the top of their lungs. Those situations were easy for me. Things got difficult when the situation would require me to speak individually. Each morning we woke up and lined up in front of our beds (racks) so the drill instructor could get a visual and verbal count. The count would start on one end of the squad bay, with each recruit shouting the next number in the sequence. I was number 56. Each morning I could feel the block building in my throat. Sometimes I was able to shout fluently, other times not.


Once the drill instructors found a weakness in you, it became a focal point. As soon as the drill instructors realized I had a stutter, they would make me stand alone at the front of the squad bay and read something aloud so all the recruits could hear me stutter; they knew it would be embarrassing.


I think the worst experience I ever had was during Officer Candidate School in 2005. I had already been an enlisted Marine for two years by then, but I wanted to become an officer. The course is 10 weeks of intense training and scrutiny. In a sense, it’s a 10-week job interview. I was in Second Platoon with about 30 guys. Each week, we had to write evaluations on our peers. These evaluations were private documents that the instructors used to gain more insight on the candidates. What we didn’t know was at the end of the 10-week course, we would be offered the chance to read what people had said about us...rather than calling them “peer evaluations,” we termed them “spear evaluations.”


As I read what my peers had written about me, several entries stood out. One of my peers wrote, “Candidate Northrup should be denied a commission in the USMC because he can’t talk straight.” For 10 weeks, I had thought this guy was my friend, but it turns out he wasn’t. And he wasn’t the only one who wrote things like that about me. I’ve never forgotten that. Reading comments like that was very hurtful, even if they had no real power. Like the rest of us, I was granted a commission and have served faithfully since then. I made it a point to perform to the best of my ability. In fact, when it came time for my peer group to be promoted to the rank of Captain, I was meritoriously promoted a year ahead of my entire group. I felt like justice had been served.


"As soon as the drill instructors realized I had a stutter, they would make me stand alone at the front of the squad bay and read something aloud so all the recruits could hear me stutter; they knew it would be embarrassing."


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