Basic Basic Training

After supper we were herded to a barracks, a tough old (mid-thirties) sergeant came in and gave us a three-hour lecture.  If you saw the movie Stripes, you know the kind I mean.  His primary theme was that if we screwed up he would personally see the prison door slam on our ass. Much of what he was doing was trying to focus us on becoming a team through fear and intimidation.  He also asked an interesting question, "Why did you join the Air Force?"  We thought he was just being friendly.  He was not.  He listened to our lame reasons:

  • get an education
  • stay out of the army/marines (the draft was still in effect, although Vietnam was still years away)
  • pregnant girlfriend
  • unhappy homelife
  • unemployed
  • stay out of prison

Well, he began screaming at us a group but managed to put his face within inches of ours.  Watch Full Metal Jacket sometimes.  I began to see all of this training as some large scale game with no purpose that I could define.  Still some there were some great memories from this time.  Finally, we were given blankets and sheets and instructions on the proper way to make a bed.  Lights out at 9:00 but most of us kept talking in the dark for an hour or so.

If I had thought about it, I would not have chosen to begin my Air Force career on Labor Day weekend.  They took us to breakfast at a different mess hall than the previous day.  A whole group of barracks (may have been called a squadron but I don’t remember) that had been mothballed were reopened in our honor.  The mess hall came with it.  I was hungry.  My stomach was still on Eastern Time.  As I picked up my greasy metal tray, I was watching this enormous mountain of scrambled eggs on a large grill.  Yum, my mouth watered.  There was a cook moving this mountain of eggs back and forth with a concrete spreading tool  Just I was about to reach the serving point another cook came and dumped 50 or so raw eggs onto the grill.  They were promptly stirred into the cooked eggs.  Another man slapped a serving of cooked and raw eggs onto my plate.  I took some limp bacon, evilly burned toast and headed for a table.  Well, I thought lunch will be better.  After breakfast we were taken back to the barracks and left on our own.  Our sergeant or Drill Instructor wanted to spend their weekend with his family.  Our assistant DI had not yet arrived.

That first Labor Day weekend away from home was boring, yet insightful.
I talked to most of the guys in the barracks.  It was frightening how easily we had given up four years of our lives.  We did not know what to expect and there were many rumors.  We were not allowed to go outside.  So we took turns looking out the screen door or one of the many windows.  There were other GI’s outside marching around in groups or moving with deliberate intent if they were alone.  No one strolled.  I learned later why that was.  For three days, someone would show up at meal time and march us to the mess hall.  We would be given food that I didn't want to eat.  I drank lots of milk and ate bread.

The barracks north of ours had GI’s that had been there a couple of weeks already.  They had uniforms.  So I watched them struggle with grouping together in formation.  One poor soul had forgotten to salute an officer and was forced to march back and forth between two utility poles.  As he approached each pole, he would salute and do and about-face and head for the other pole.  He did this for several hours.  It was at least 85 degrees outside.

I had purchased some reading material when we first got off of the train—electronic magazines.  Many of the other guys bought Playboy magazines which they hid in their footlockers and were promptly found by the DI.  I hid my magazines under my mattress.  I also had a lot of paper for notes and for writing home.  I wrote to Carol every day and to my parents at least weekly.  I also began working on designing a computer that would play tic-tac-toe.  The latter task helped to pass the time greatly.  I kept that notebook for about 10 years.  I wish I had saved it.

There was traffic on the street in front of our barracks and occasionally we would hear a jet engine from nearby Kelly AFB. This got our hopes up. I was still convinced that in five weeks I would be learning communications in Biloxi, Mississippi.

After three boring hours, we were taken back to the mess hall for lunch. This time they had beef stew. I loved beef stew, still do.  There were gallons of the stuff and no one seemed to be adding anything to it. I got a big helping. Big mistake. The beef had the taste and texture of rubber balls. I had managed to throw away my breakfast without the sergeant who monitored the trash seeing me. 

As I was contemplating explaining to him how bad the food was, some other fool did the same. The sergeant took him over to the serving line and gave him a second helping on top of his first and told him to eat up. I choked mine down. For five weeks I lived mostly on milk and bread. After basic training the food was fine but not during it.

I spent the weekend talking to my barracks mates and reading my magazines. We weren’t allowed to have magazines but I hid them under my bunk. The three-day weekend was very long. It was gorgeous outdoors, but we had to stay in the barracks.

Tuesday was a better day. Wake up a 6:00am go outside in the dark for some deep breathing exercises, then try to march to the mess hall. After breakfast back to the barracks for some training. First we were taught how to line up like soldiers. It seems the taller guys have to be in the front and towards the right. This makes no sense  to me, but it does have the effect of making the natural pace of the taller leaders a challenge for the shorter guys in the back. I was the 16th tallest out of a 120 people. That put me near the front, but not close enough to get chosen for anything else. We practiced falling out of the barracks, which meant we were falling into formation. For fire safety reasons, the DI wanted us to be able to fall-in in under a minute. The barracks were old and were fire traps. In 1960, most people smoked so there was that problem too. We kept trying to get outside and lined up in 60 seconds. After about 10 unsuccessful attempts, the DI chewed us out as a group and many were singled out for individual cussing. On our next attempt, we made it out of the barracks in about 45 seconds. We did destroy the doors to the building.

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