They're yelled and screamed at constantly. They're made to do pushups and sit-ups until exhaustion. And they can't speak freely or look people in the eye.

So when they get to the dining hall, at least they can relax and enjoy their meal, right?

Yeah, right.

At OCS, every second at chow hall is regimented -- and in a totally bizarre way.

The students enter single-file on the orders of their team leader. While continuing to maintain a 1,000-yard stare and speaking only when ordering their food, they go through the cafeteria line. They are forbidden from having coffee or dessert.

They bring their trays to a long cafeteria-style table, but may not sit down until each member of the class is there. While waiting, they hold up their pocket-size "gouge" books to study basic Navy knowledge. Once everyone has arrived, they sit down with their knees at 45 degrees to "port," and their bums on the first third of the chair.

When it's time to eat, there's no digging in. All their movements must be rigid and precise, almost robot-like. Their arms and hands move perfectly parallel to the tabletop and make sharp angled dives down to their trays. They may eat only with a spoon, called a "war spoon," and they must hold it with their left hand. They can't use a fork or a knife.

"Eating by the numbers is what it's called," says student Sarah Engemann. "It's eight counts. That's how many different steps there are — for each bite. The first step: you snap your head down to about four inches above your food. The second thing is you pick up your spoon in a fist. Then you scoop food with your spoon, that's third. Fourth you put the spoon in your mouth. Fifth you put the spoon down. Sixth, you make sure everything on your plate is where it's supposed to be and your cups are where they are supposed to be and everything is fine. Seven you chew. And eight you swallow."

"It's fun eating a hamburger with a spoon," she says and laughs. ... "With a bun, you just have to sort of cut through it. I was trying to eat corn on the cob with a spoon and not realizing you could use your thumb to hold the cob on the spoon and eat it just like normal. It kept rolling around."

Fellow student Nicole Lobecker says it seems purposeless, but she understands why it's done.

"It's just they want to control every aspect of our lives here," she says. "They tell you if you are comfortable at OCS, you're doing something wrong. You're supposed to be uncomfortable the whole time."

Says Engemann, "They want to make sure you can discipline yourself, even for little stupid things, and pay attention to detail."

Early in the program, their drill instructor watches them like a hawk, scolding them when they violate any of the dining rules.

They have 20 minutes to eat. Their section leader continually checks his watch. Periodically, he'll rap the table open-handed three times and announce how many minutes they have left to eat.

"Class 05-08," he'll begin, "this is your zero-five-minute warning."

After they've stopped eating, the leader issues a series of orders for them to knock over their glasses (they must drink every drop to stay hydrated), stand up and carry their trays to the scullery.

Then they march out of the chow hall -- until the next pleasant dining experience.