My mood improved dramatically as April 6th, 1973 drew closer. That was my final day of basic training at Lackland AFB... At the beginning every moment had felt like an eternity. It was like "Groundhog Day". We woke up every morning stuck in hell, and no matter what we did we couldn't change the outcome... But as April approached it became undeniably clear that it was actually going to end.
One of the "rites of passage" I haven't mentioned yet was going to the "career facility" on base to start the paperwork for our future job/training assignments. (I think that was around the 4th week or so)... I had enlisted for 6 years which meant I had a guaranteed career field (ATC Radar Repair), but most of the guys didn't get their assignments until the final week of basic. (Sometimes it was one of their preferences, often it wasn't.)
Aside: When one guy found out he was going to be a Security Policeman he started running all over the dorm yelling "You're under arrest!" and pretending to shoot everyone... And I was like "They are seriously going to give him a loaded weapon???"
But the main thing I remember from the career facility was that it was totally staffed with civilian women. (I hadn't seen one "close up" for over a month.) BTW: This was the dark ages (before computers) so everything was typewritten and I remember the room being filled with the distinctive clacking of typewriters. (I don't think my children have ever heard that sound...)
I ended up at the desk of an Hispanic woman in her late 20s (wearing way too much eye makeup) and I remember thinking that under ordinary circumstances I wouldn't have given her a second look, but after more than a month of basic training being that close to her was almost intoxicating - she could not have been more attractive to me. (Hmm, I wonder if that had something to do with how much I missed my mother?)
She also could not have been more icy or distant (she never once made eye contact)... Then it occurred to me that she probably spent her entire day dealing with young men staring at her like a hungry dog eying a slab of meat... I bet that got really old after a while :-)
And some more random memories:
One of the places we were allowed to go during the last couple of weekends was a cafeteria operated by the BX (base exchange). And the main thing I remember about it was the jukebox (I really missed listening to music), and specifically, the song "Superstition" by Stevie Wonder. (One of my all time favorites - it had reached #1 shortly before I started basic)...
Also - this one time there was a huge black airman there and whenever anyone played a country song he'd walk over and unplug the jukebox... Now - although I agreed with his taste in music I thought it was an incredibly rude (and potentially dangerous) thing to do... Yeah - things got pretty "heated" and I was really not in the mood to get stuck in the middle of race riot. (There was still a lot of tension back in 1973.)
Another aside: I cannot recall a single race related incident in our flight. (Nor was there a single theft - or any incident of any sort.) There had been some "unease" at first but it dissipated quickly. A few weeks into basic one of the guys who had spent his whole life in Harlem (and didn't trust anybody) said to me "You know... You're alright!" (That is actually one of my best memories from basic). Yeah - when it came right down to it everyone turned out to be pretty cool...
Next random memory: There was a guy (Airman Tolson) in the flight who could type over 110 words per minute with 100% accuracy. (That's insanely fast on an electric typewriter.) He ended up being a male admin (commonly known as a "titless WAF" back in the day - yeah, not very politically correct...)
And a final note: Late February to early April turned out to be the perfect time to be at Lackland... Not too hot, and not too cold... I just checked the historical records, and 1973 was the wettest year ever for San Antonio (52 inches total, 1.5 in March) so it must have rained during those 6 weeks, but I honestly don't remember it... I was just glad that I wasn't there for Christmas. We heard rumors that the TIs had made everyone sling their laundry bag over their shoulder and march around the building chanting "Ho! Ho! Ho!"... I'm not sorry I missed that :-)
All that remains now is to cover graduation and sum it all up - and that will be the topic of my next post.
Tuesday, March 26, 2013
Friday, March 22, 2013
Mr. Little and The Grinch
My squad (element) leader during Air Force basic training at Lackland AFB in the spring of 1973 was a somewhat eccentric character by the name of Michael Little. As I recall, he was a Flight Officer in the Civil Air Patrol and had joined the Air Force with the intent of eventually becoming a mercenary in Belize (a Central American country then engaged in a conflict with Guatemala). He had been corresponding with their military leaders, and yes - I thought that was pretty odd.
So, one Sunday afternoon near the end of basic they loaded a bunch of us onto a bus and hauled us off base to help prepare a nearly little league field for the upcoming season... BTW: It felt really strange to be out in the real world after more than a month in hell, and it felt even stranger be treated as if we were human. Yes - the "civilian" adults were even expressing appreciation (as if we were there by choice)... It was just too weird :-) But that's not the point of the story:
At one point someone was moving some rocks near the edge of the field and uncovered a sizable rattlesnake. Everyone was freaking out and trying to decide if they should kill it when Airman Little ran over yelling: "What is wrong with you guys? He won't hurt you!" Then he non-nonchalantly picked it up and carried it off into the woods...
After a brief period of stunned disbelief somebody asked him why he wasn't afraid of being bitten and his response was something along the lines of: "Snakes don't generally bite when you disturb their hibernation, and even if they do it's treatable... Plus, I've been bitten by more venomous snakes than I can count."
Obviously, that statement required a bit more clarification, and it turned out that his father was a biology professor in Georgia whose specialty was "swamp critters", and Airman Little had spent a significant percentage of his life deep in the Okefenokee Swamp helping his father do field research...So yeah - he had a great deal of experience (good and bad) with things "creepy and crawly" - and that actually explained a lot :-)
Now - if you were expecting there to be more to the "Little" story, I'm afraid that's about it... He was just an all-around "interesting character" (and a huge Tolkien fan)... When we got to Keesler AFB (tech school) we hung out at first, but then he borrowed a sizable chunk of money from me to buy a wig (seriously!) and he didn't pay it back until a couple of months after he promised. I was so mad that I didn't spend much time with him afterward...
It was a invaluable lesson: People who borrow money from their friends do so because because they can't manage their own. So (despite their best intentions) they almost invariably have problems paying it back...
And on to the second topic:
Everyone called Airman Juneau "The Grinch" because ... well ... there was a slight resemblance:
FYI: This picture was taken at Keesler AFB sometime during the summer of 1973 (and that's my 1968 Barracuda convertible he's leaning on).
Despite the fact the The Grinch grew up in Florida close to the Okefenokee Swamp, there was no connection between him and Little. (As a matter of fact, I don't think they much liked each other.) The reason I've included them in the same post is because they were the two guys from basic training that I spent the most time with later on...
I suppose I should mention Airman Copley too... The main thing I remember about him was that he wore auto-darkening prescription glasses and the TIs were always giving him crap about them (sunglasses were "verboten" in formation). So, he kept a note is his pocket documenting that they were medically necessary... (Funny - I hadn't thought about that for many years.)
And I shouldn't leave out Airman Eubanks... He was married, and a smoker, which made basic training extra tough... I honestly wasn't that fond of him (he was kind of a jerk) but his wife (Georgette) was really nice - but I'm getting ahead of myself :-)
As for my connection with The Grinch? Early during basic training Juneau and I discovered that we were the only ones in the flight who had signed up to be Air Traffic Control Radar Repairmen which meant that we were going to be seeing a lot of each other for months to come, so we figured we might as well hang out... There's not much else to say at this point, except that he was basically a "hick" (but a lot brighter than he seemed). And he had one hell of a temper, especially when he was drinking, which (after basic) was most of the time...
So - I guess there's no real point to this post... Just memories and observations - " fabric of life" kinds of things... And it also means that I'm getting close to wrapping up basic training...
Sigh... I don't think I've done a very good job of capturing just how "hellish" it really was. I guess it's one of those things you can't fully understand unless you've been there :-)
So, one Sunday afternoon near the end of basic they loaded a bunch of us onto a bus and hauled us off base to help prepare a nearly little league field for the upcoming season... BTW: It felt really strange to be out in the real world after more than a month in hell, and it felt even stranger be treated as if we were human. Yes - the "civilian" adults were even expressing appreciation (as if we were there by choice)... It was just too weird :-) But that's not the point of the story:
At one point someone was moving some rocks near the edge of the field and uncovered a sizable rattlesnake. Everyone was freaking out and trying to decide if they should kill it when Airman Little ran over yelling: "What is wrong with you guys? He won't hurt you!" Then he non-nonchalantly picked it up and carried it off into the woods...
After a brief period of stunned disbelief somebody asked him why he wasn't afraid of being bitten and his response was something along the lines of: "Snakes don't generally bite when you disturb their hibernation, and even if they do it's treatable... Plus, I've been bitten by more venomous snakes than I can count."
Obviously, that statement required a bit more clarification, and it turned out that his father was a biology professor in Georgia whose specialty was "swamp critters", and Airman Little had spent a significant percentage of his life deep in the Okefenokee Swamp helping his father do field research...So yeah - he had a great deal of experience (good and bad) with things "creepy and crawly" - and that actually explained a lot :-)
Now - if you were expecting there to be more to the "Little" story, I'm afraid that's about it... He was just an all-around "interesting character" (and a huge Tolkien fan)... When we got to Keesler AFB (tech school) we hung out at first, but then he borrowed a sizable chunk of money from me to buy a wig (seriously!) and he didn't pay it back until a couple of months after he promised. I was so mad that I didn't spend much time with him afterward...
It was a invaluable lesson: People who borrow money from their friends do so because because they can't manage their own. So (despite their best intentions) they almost invariably have problems paying it back...
And on to the second topic:
Everyone called Airman Juneau "The Grinch" because ... well ... there was a slight resemblance:
FYI: This picture was taken at Keesler AFB sometime during the summer of 1973 (and that's my 1968 Barracuda convertible he's leaning on).
Despite the fact the The Grinch grew up in Florida close to the Okefenokee Swamp, there was no connection between him and Little. (As a matter of fact, I don't think they much liked each other.) The reason I've included them in the same post is because they were the two guys from basic training that I spent the most time with later on...
I suppose I should mention Airman Copley too... The main thing I remember about him was that he wore auto-darkening prescription glasses and the TIs were always giving him crap about them (sunglasses were "verboten" in formation). So, he kept a note is his pocket documenting that they were medically necessary... (Funny - I hadn't thought about that for many years.)
And I shouldn't leave out Airman Eubanks... He was married, and a smoker, which made basic training extra tough... I honestly wasn't that fond of him (he was kind of a jerk) but his wife (Georgette) was really nice - but I'm getting ahead of myself :-)
As for my connection with The Grinch? Early during basic training Juneau and I discovered that we were the only ones in the flight who had signed up to be Air Traffic Control Radar Repairmen which meant that we were going to be seeing a lot of each other for months to come, so we figured we might as well hang out... There's not much else to say at this point, except that he was basically a "hick" (but a lot brighter than he seemed). And he had one hell of a temper, especially when he was drinking, which (after basic) was most of the time...
So - I guess there's no real point to this post... Just memories and observations - " fabric of life" kinds of things... And it also means that I'm getting close to wrapping up basic training...
Sigh... I don't think I've done a very good job of capturing just how "hellish" it really was. I guess it's one of those things you can't fully understand unless you've been there :-)
Monday, March 11, 2013
Soldier Stuff
I'm not sure to what extent Air Force basic training has changed since 1973, but back then they didn't teach us a whole lot about actual "soldiering". Yes, there was marching, and physical training, and more marching, and classes on military history and regulations, and more marching - but anything directly related to combat? Not so much... I guess that makes sense given that there are no infantry positions in the Air Force, although later in my career I did serve with a guy who had been at Tan Son Nhut Air Base during the Tet Offensive, so yes - even radar technicians have to pick up a rifle sometimes.... The point being that during my 6 weeks at Lackland we spent very little time on combat related training.
As it turned out, the Air Force did want us to be able to fire a weapon, so one morning we attended a course on the "theory and operation" of the M16... The only thing I specifically remember were some discussions between the specialists and the "good ole boys" about the merits of hunting with assault rifles... As I recall, the conclusion was that if you shoot a rabbit with an M16 on full auto don't expect there to be very much left :-)
And the next morning they marched us off to the rifle range where we were given a lengthy safety briefing before being handed an actual M16... We were kind of bummed when we found out that we weren't allowed to set it to "full auto" (that would have been fun)... Of course, some bozo did it anyway... Yeah - that sudden burst scared the crap out of me - it was really freaking loud! (I have no idea what happened to the culprit after they escorted him off the range. He wasn't in our squadron.)
The only other rule I remember (except for the obvious ones) was that if you needed to get the attention of one of the instructors (e.g. you were having a problem with your weapon) you had to stick your thumb in your ear and wiggle your fingers. (I swear I'm not making that up.) The idea was to keep your weapon (and your attention) focused down range, which makes perfect sense - but it sure looked silly :-)
OK... Telling them I was left-handed turned out to be a huge mistake for two reasons:
The first was that they gave me a rifle with a deflector plate that was supposed to direct the ejected shells downward (instead of onto my right arm), but sometimes they ricocheted right back into the chamber and jammed the bolt... So, I spent a lot of time with my thumb in my ear :-)
And the second problem was that (unbeknownst to me at the time) I am heavily right eye dominant. As a matter of fact, I'm such a bad shot with my left eye that the instructor who was trying to help me adjust the sights finally gave up and walked away...
Aside: I didn't find out about the eye problem until almost 20 years later when my son was a scout and I thumbed through the Rifle Shooting merit badge booklet. It explained how to determine eye dominance and I discovered I should have been shooting right handed all along... I later tried it out at a Scout camp rifle range and almost every shot was dead center... And all that time I thought was just a lousy shot - who would have guessed???
Back to basic training:
We spent the rest of the morning working through the shooting positions - standing, kneeling, sitting (which totally sucks) and prone, and although I'm really not into guns I have to admit the M16 was fun to shoot... At the end of the day I scored high enough to meet the minimum standards (which weren't very high), partly because "Mabel" (the guy who marched in front of me) kept putting rounds in my target by mistake (he was easily confused)... And (all in all) it was probably the only day of basic training I can say didn't totally suck :-)
And while I'm on the topic of "soldiering" I should probably say a few words about the "Confidence Course". That's what the Air Force called their obstacle course. It's another one of those "rites of passage" you face during the training process, and no matter what they call it it's a real pain in the ass...
First off: When the sun is just coming up and you find yourself crawling under a layer of barbed wire on your belly holding a dummy rifle and there are explosions going off all around you? That is a surreal experience :-) ... And it is way harder than you might think. (You have no idea unless you've tried it.)
Also, climbing straight up a cargo net is surprisingly difficult. It's like trying to run up a sand hill - lots of motion and almost no progress... But the obstacle that gave me the most trouble was called "The Weaver". It's a series of evenly spaced horizontal beams, each one a bit higher than the previous one, and you have to alternate going under and over them without touching the ground... The transition from under to over is incredibly exhausting. There is just no easy way to do it.
By the time I got to the final obstacle - a set of monkey bars over a water hazard - I was really hot and tired. That's when "The Grinch" (I'll say more about him later) and I decided it would be a good idea to cool down a bit before marching back to the dorm so we bailed off near the end of the bars...
The water wasn't particularly clean, but it was cold and amazingly refreshing. We took our sweet time getting out and the TIs didn't even make us repeat the obstacle (I think they knew what we were up to)... The funny part is while we were waiting for the rest of the flight to finish some of the guys were giving us a hard time about falling off the bars. And we were like "What do mean 'falling'???"
It was already pretty warm out by the time we started the 2 mile march back to the dorm, and the "evaporative cooling" felt wonderful... I couldn't help but be amused when I thought about how hot and miserable the rest of the guys must be and how dumb they felt when they realized they could've cooled off too...
So yeah... It was definitely an experience worth having but I sure as heck wouldn't ever want to do it again :-)
As it turned out, the Air Force did want us to be able to fire a weapon, so one morning we attended a course on the "theory and operation" of the M16... The only thing I specifically remember were some discussions between the specialists and the "good ole boys" about the merits of hunting with assault rifles... As I recall, the conclusion was that if you shoot a rabbit with an M16 on full auto don't expect there to be very much left :-)
And the next morning they marched us off to the rifle range where we were given a lengthy safety briefing before being handed an actual M16... We were kind of bummed when we found out that we weren't allowed to set it to "full auto" (that would have been fun)... Of course, some bozo did it anyway... Yeah - that sudden burst scared the crap out of me - it was really freaking loud! (I have no idea what happened to the culprit after they escorted him off the range. He wasn't in our squadron.)
The only other rule I remember (except for the obvious ones) was that if you needed to get the attention of one of the instructors (e.g. you were having a problem with your weapon) you had to stick your thumb in your ear and wiggle your fingers. (I swear I'm not making that up.) The idea was to keep your weapon (and your attention) focused down range, which makes perfect sense - but it sure looked silly :-)
OK... Telling them I was left-handed turned out to be a huge mistake for two reasons:
The first was that they gave me a rifle with a deflector plate that was supposed to direct the ejected shells downward (instead of onto my right arm), but sometimes they ricocheted right back into the chamber and jammed the bolt... So, I spent a lot of time with my thumb in my ear :-)
And the second problem was that (unbeknownst to me at the time) I am heavily right eye dominant. As a matter of fact, I'm such a bad shot with my left eye that the instructor who was trying to help me adjust the sights finally gave up and walked away...
Aside: I didn't find out about the eye problem until almost 20 years later when my son was a scout and I thumbed through the Rifle Shooting merit badge booklet. It explained how to determine eye dominance and I discovered I should have been shooting right handed all along... I later tried it out at a Scout camp rifle range and almost every shot was dead center... And all that time I thought was just a lousy shot - who would have guessed???
Back to basic training:
We spent the rest of the morning working through the shooting positions - standing, kneeling, sitting (which totally sucks) and prone, and although I'm really not into guns I have to admit the M16 was fun to shoot... At the end of the day I scored high enough to meet the minimum standards (which weren't very high), partly because "Mabel" (the guy who marched in front of me) kept putting rounds in my target by mistake (he was easily confused)... And (all in all) it was probably the only day of basic training I can say didn't totally suck :-)
And while I'm on the topic of "soldiering" I should probably say a few words about the "Confidence Course". That's what the Air Force called their obstacle course. It's another one of those "rites of passage" you face during the training process, and no matter what they call it it's a real pain in the ass...
First off: When the sun is just coming up and you find yourself crawling under a layer of barbed wire on your belly holding a dummy rifle and there are explosions going off all around you? That is a surreal experience :-) ... And it is way harder than you might think. (You have no idea unless you've tried it.)
Also, climbing straight up a cargo net is surprisingly difficult. It's like trying to run up a sand hill - lots of motion and almost no progress... But the obstacle that gave me the most trouble was called "The Weaver". It's a series of evenly spaced horizontal beams, each one a bit higher than the previous one, and you have to alternate going under and over them without touching the ground... The transition from under to over is incredibly exhausting. There is just no easy way to do it.
By the time I got to the final obstacle - a set of monkey bars over a water hazard - I was really hot and tired. That's when "The Grinch" (I'll say more about him later) and I decided it would be a good idea to cool down a bit before marching back to the dorm so we bailed off near the end of the bars...
The water wasn't particularly clean, but it was cold and amazingly refreshing. We took our sweet time getting out and the TIs didn't even make us repeat the obstacle (I think they knew what we were up to)... The funny part is while we were waiting for the rest of the flight to finish some of the guys were giving us a hard time about falling off the bars. And we were like "What do mean 'falling'???"
It was already pretty warm out by the time we started the 2 mile march back to the dorm, and the "evaporative cooling" felt wonderful... I couldn't help but be amused when I thought about how hot and miserable the rest of the guys must be and how dumb they felt when they realized they could've cooled off too...
So yeah... It was definitely an experience worth having but I sure as heck wouldn't ever want to do it again :-)
Wednesday, March 6, 2013
It Gets Easier
The topic at hand is Air Force basic training at Lackland AFB in the spring of 1973 (and my participation therein). Up to this point I've mostly been describing the utter and complete hell that was the first few weeks, and (thinking back) it's hard for me to wrap my brain around the fact that it hadn't lasted much longer. It certainly felt like an eternity at the time.
Then around the start of the 4th week things seemed to get easier. Yes - the TIs were still constantly screaming at us (telling us we were the worst flight in the squadron and they were embarrassed to be seen with us), and yes - there was still a lot of stress and very little sleep... But the psychological part had somehow changed. I don't know if the drill sergeants had "eased up" on the mind games or if we'd just gotten used to it, but it became almost tolerable...
To tell the truth, we were kind of proud of ourselves. Our hair had grown back a bit (and our name tapes were sewn on our uniforms) so when we marched around the base it was clear to everyone that we were "seasoned veterans" - guys who'd been through the worst of it and come out stronger. (There was even a bit of swagger)... Yeah - it was hard not to laugh whenever we saw brand new recruits - especially rainbows (the guys who were still in their civvies). They always looked like they were about to crap their pants.
It was also around the start of the 4th week that the TIs decided we were finally ready for "mail call" (it was considered a privilege). So we all gathered in the day room and Sergeant Wilkerson went through the big pile of mail calling out names, and at one point he stared at a letter for a few seconds and said "Parker?? There's no Parker in this flight!" and started to toss it aside when a timid voice said "Here, sir!"... Wilkerson looked at the guy for a few seconds and said "Who the f*ck are you, and when did you join this flight???" and Parker replied "I've been here the whole time, sir!"
As I said in my first post about basic training, the primary objective is to not be noticed, and (up to that point) Airman Parker had played it to perfection. I was impressed :-)
Aside: I've finally "connected the dots" with my earlier post entitled Along Came Brenda. In that post I jumped ahead in time and described how during basic training I had exchanged letters with the aforementioned former girlfriend and she had sent me a picture with an inscription on the back that read "To one of the best buddies a girl could ask for". Yeah - that wasn't quite what I was hoping for... Still - any correspondence with the outside world was a "Godsend" in that situation...
Then by the time the 4th week ended our evenings and weekends were mostly free, we'd gotten our first pay, the day room was open and we were given occasional breaks during the day... Of course, there were still serious restrictions on where we could go and what we could do, but it was nice to have a little breathing room... I don't mean to imply that it wasn't still hell, but (as Dante pointed out) hell has many levels :-)
And I suppose this is as good a time as any to mention that not everyone had it so easy:
One of the flights in our squadron had a Dorm Chief who was a former Army combat vet (yes, the military makes you repeat basic training when you change branches) and he was on a major power trip. He put that flight through hell for weeks, then one night he snuck out of the dorm and went AWOL. Not cool...
But it was our "sister" flight (the one across the stairwell from us) that I really pitied. They started basic on the same day as us and ended up with a junior drill sergeant who was a serious nut job. He lost two stripes (demotion) while we were in basic and he was facing additional charges by the time we left. (I have no idea why they didn't just yank his psycho ass out of there.)
Some members of that flight told us that he had slashed a recruit's face with a razor blade because the kid missed a spot when shaving, and in another incident he swung a canteen by the belt and hit the owner upside the head with it because it wasn't full... They also told us that he made them march up and down the center aisle and then polish it back perfection, again and again... And those were just the things I heard about - who knows what else went on...
Yet another aside: Even thought drill sergeants occasionally crossed the line they rarely got into any trouble. That's because if you filed a complaint you were required to stay at Lackland (doing menial tasks) until the issue had been resolved (which could take weeks or months). So you had to decide whether pursuing the complaint was worth being stuck in "hell hole" limbo rather than starting your technical training... Well - that's what the TIs told us anyway :-)
Then on the Saturday before the final week of basic (a day of leisure for most flights) I was heading downstairs when I got "bulldozed" by our sister flight (running up the stairs en masse)... I ended up with some pretty bad bruises from being slammed into the railing and I was seriously pissed off...
That was until I found out that the reason they were in such a hurry was that "psycho airman" (he was no longer a sergeant at that point) was timing how long it took them to get to their dorm room after being dismissed from formation outside the building (2 flights down). They'd apparently been running the drill all morning and had yet to make it in the 15 seconds allotted... Yeah - that was pure B.S. Especially that late during basic training.
The funny thing is that I don't think it ever dawned on me that the only reason I wasn't in that flight was simple "luck of the draw"... I mean, I'm almost certain I would have survived it. I'm just really glad I didn't have to find out :-)
Then around the start of the 4th week things seemed to get easier. Yes - the TIs were still constantly screaming at us (telling us we were the worst flight in the squadron and they were embarrassed to be seen with us), and yes - there was still a lot of stress and very little sleep... But the psychological part had somehow changed. I don't know if the drill sergeants had "eased up" on the mind games or if we'd just gotten used to it, but it became almost tolerable...
To tell the truth, we were kind of proud of ourselves. Our hair had grown back a bit (and our name tapes were sewn on our uniforms) so when we marched around the base it was clear to everyone that we were "seasoned veterans" - guys who'd been through the worst of it and come out stronger. (There was even a bit of swagger)... Yeah - it was hard not to laugh whenever we saw brand new recruits - especially rainbows (the guys who were still in their civvies). They always looked like they were about to crap their pants.
It was also around the start of the 4th week that the TIs decided we were finally ready for "mail call" (it was considered a privilege). So we all gathered in the day room and Sergeant Wilkerson went through the big pile of mail calling out names, and at one point he stared at a letter for a few seconds and said "Parker?? There's no Parker in this flight!" and started to toss it aside when a timid voice said "Here, sir!"... Wilkerson looked at the guy for a few seconds and said "Who the f*ck are you, and when did you join this flight???" and Parker replied "I've been here the whole time, sir!"
As I said in my first post about basic training, the primary objective is to not be noticed, and (up to that point) Airman Parker had played it to perfection. I was impressed :-)
Aside: I've finally "connected the dots" with my earlier post entitled Along Came Brenda. In that post I jumped ahead in time and described how during basic training I had exchanged letters with the aforementioned former girlfriend and she had sent me a picture with an inscription on the back that read "To one of the best buddies a girl could ask for". Yeah - that wasn't quite what I was hoping for... Still - any correspondence with the outside world was a "Godsend" in that situation...
Then by the time the 4th week ended our evenings and weekends were mostly free, we'd gotten our first pay, the day room was open and we were given occasional breaks during the day... Of course, there were still serious restrictions on where we could go and what we could do, but it was nice to have a little breathing room... I don't mean to imply that it wasn't still hell, but (as Dante pointed out) hell has many levels :-)
And I suppose this is as good a time as any to mention that not everyone had it so easy:
One of the flights in our squadron had a Dorm Chief who was a former Army combat vet (yes, the military makes you repeat basic training when you change branches) and he was on a major power trip. He put that flight through hell for weeks, then one night he snuck out of the dorm and went AWOL. Not cool...
But it was our "sister" flight (the one across the stairwell from us) that I really pitied. They started basic on the same day as us and ended up with a junior drill sergeant who was a serious nut job. He lost two stripes (demotion) while we were in basic and he was facing additional charges by the time we left. (I have no idea why they didn't just yank his psycho ass out of there.)
Some members of that flight told us that he had slashed a recruit's face with a razor blade because the kid missed a spot when shaving, and in another incident he swung a canteen by the belt and hit the owner upside the head with it because it wasn't full... They also told us that he made them march up and down the center aisle and then polish it back perfection, again and again... And those were just the things I heard about - who knows what else went on...
Yet another aside: Even thought drill sergeants occasionally crossed the line they rarely got into any trouble. That's because if you filed a complaint you were required to stay at Lackland (doing menial tasks) until the issue had been resolved (which could take weeks or months). So you had to decide whether pursuing the complaint was worth being stuck in "hell hole" limbo rather than starting your technical training... Well - that's what the TIs told us anyway :-)
Then on the Saturday before the final week of basic (a day of leisure for most flights) I was heading downstairs when I got "bulldozed" by our sister flight (running up the stairs en masse)... I ended up with some pretty bad bruises from being slammed into the railing and I was seriously pissed off...
That was until I found out that the reason they were in such a hurry was that "psycho airman" (he was no longer a sergeant at that point) was timing how long it took them to get to their dorm room after being dismissed from formation outside the building (2 flights down). They'd apparently been running the drill all morning and had yet to make it in the 15 seconds allotted... Yeah - that was pure B.S. Especially that late during basic training.
The funny thing is that I don't think it ever dawned on me that the only reason I wasn't in that flight was simple "luck of the draw"... I mean, I'm almost certain I would have survived it. I'm just really glad I didn't have to find out :-)
Saturday, March 2, 2013
Mess Duty
Mess Duty (aka KP) is another one of the "basics" of basic training, although by 1973 it wasn't much like what was portrayed in the old movies. For example, tasks like peeling potatoes were no longer part of the job. (I assume they had machines for that.) But you still had to get up ridiculously early (something like 3 or 4 AM).
The first hour or two was spent prepping for morning chow, then I almost invariably got stuck at the washing station where I had to work at a frantic pace for a couple of hours to keep up with the flow of dirty plates, glasses and silverware. Then the entire chow hall had to be cleaned and prepped for lunch and the cycle started again... Thankfully, our shift ended sometime mid afternoon, but that still amounted to almost 12 hours of constant work (on very little sleep).
And despite the fact that we didn't have to wash the dishes by hand, manning the washing station was not an easy job... There were usually two or three of us, and as people shoved their trays through the window we'd have to scrape the plates and load everything onto big racks that got fed through an industrial washing machine (I think it was made by Hobart) on a conveyor. Then, when the racks came out the other end the clean dishes and utensils had to be loaded onto carts to be taken back to the food lines.
The main problem was the heat and humidity. It was insane. We were stuck in a small room with an industrial washer operating at "sanitizing" temperatures (roughly 180ยบ F) and I invariably ended up being the one who unloaded the racks from the machine so I was constantly being blasted by steam from the washer, and the plates and silverware were almost too hot to handle even through thick rubber gloves.
Aside: So, you know when you stay in the tub too long and the skin on your hands and feet gets all wrinkled up? Well, the first time I took off those gloves (which went all the way up the elbow) after wearing them for a couple of hours I was stunned to discover that my forearms looked like bleached prunes. (I did not know that was physically possible). And it was all due to perspiration... After that I would stop periodically and pour the sweat out of the gloves (that helped), but it was still really miserable...
And the final part of the story requires a bit of background:
Lackland AFB was where the U.S. trained military pilots and ground crews for various Middle Eastern, Southeast Asian, South American (and African?) allies, so the whole time I was at Lackland there were extremely loud 2 seat propeller planes (T-28 trainers?) buzzing around all day... Yeah - it was just one of the many things that contributed to the "ambiance" of basic training...
Aside: Most "civilians " are probably not aware of this, but enlisted U.S. service members are required to salute foreign officers as well as our own. That presented a bit of a problem during basic because there were both officers and NCOs from many different countries at Lackland and their uniforms and insignias were totally foreign to us (pun intended)... The drill sergeants gave us a simple rule of thumb: the "plainer" the uniform, the higher the rank. And, strangely enough, that proved to be accurate...
And that reminds me of another story about saluting:
During our final week of basic we standing in formation when an officer passed by. Our senior TI (the one who was about to retire) was supposed to to bring us to attention and order the salute, but he just stood there looking the other direction... Finally, the dorm chief whispered to him "Sir! There's an officer approaching!" and the TI's response was "Yeah - I see him... He's a lieutenant... I don't salute lieutenants"... Yeah - after spending almost 6 weeks drilling military rules and procedures into us the drill sergeant had finally given us a glimpse of the real Air Force... But I totally digress :-)
The point of all this is that one day our flight was assigned KP duty at the foreign officers mess. (And a "mess" it was...)
They woke us up "gawdawful" early and marched us across the base in total darkness to wherever the heck it was they housed the foreign officers. Then there was a long briefing on proper etiquette because many of the officers were members of the "elite" in their home countries and the Air Force didn't want us to inadvertently trigger an international incident...
But my main memory from that day was the "food" (I use the term loosely)... The mess hall was stocked with native fare from every country represented at Lackland and a lot of it was stuff that most Americans would never consider eating - and even if we would eat it we sure wouldn't eat it raw... Yeah - I didn't even want to know what most of it was. (I do recall that there were eggs from unusual animals and some type of snake meat. Apparently you can eat darn near anything if you put enough honey on it.)
I was one the guys that had to collect the trays from the tables and scrape all the leftovers off the plates, and the sight and smell of some of that stuff was making us gag.
Yes - I know... Different cultures have different norms, and I'm being very narrow minded and intolerant in my assessment of their eating habits. But from the perspective of a 19 year old American who grew up in a "less enlightened" era - that stuff was just plain gross :-)
The first hour or two was spent prepping for morning chow, then I almost invariably got stuck at the washing station where I had to work at a frantic pace for a couple of hours to keep up with the flow of dirty plates, glasses and silverware. Then the entire chow hall had to be cleaned and prepped for lunch and the cycle started again... Thankfully, our shift ended sometime mid afternoon, but that still amounted to almost 12 hours of constant work (on very little sleep).
And despite the fact that we didn't have to wash the dishes by hand, manning the washing station was not an easy job... There were usually two or three of us, and as people shoved their trays through the window we'd have to scrape the plates and load everything onto big racks that got fed through an industrial washing machine (I think it was made by Hobart) on a conveyor. Then, when the racks came out the other end the clean dishes and utensils had to be loaded onto carts to be taken back to the food lines.
The main problem was the heat and humidity. It was insane. We were stuck in a small room with an industrial washer operating at "sanitizing" temperatures (roughly 180ยบ F) and I invariably ended up being the one who unloaded the racks from the machine so I was constantly being blasted by steam from the washer, and the plates and silverware were almost too hot to handle even through thick rubber gloves.
Aside: So, you know when you stay in the tub too long and the skin on your hands and feet gets all wrinkled up? Well, the first time I took off those gloves (which went all the way up the elbow) after wearing them for a couple of hours I was stunned to discover that my forearms looked like bleached prunes. (I did not know that was physically possible). And it was all due to perspiration... After that I would stop periodically and pour the sweat out of the gloves (that helped), but it was still really miserable...
And the final part of the story requires a bit of background:
Lackland AFB was where the U.S. trained military pilots and ground crews for various Middle Eastern, Southeast Asian, South American (and African?) allies, so the whole time I was at Lackland there were extremely loud 2 seat propeller planes (T-28 trainers?) buzzing around all day... Yeah - it was just one of the many things that contributed to the "ambiance" of basic training...
Aside: Most "civilians " are probably not aware of this, but enlisted U.S. service members are required to salute foreign officers as well as our own. That presented a bit of a problem during basic because there were both officers and NCOs from many different countries at Lackland and their uniforms and insignias were totally foreign to us (pun intended)... The drill sergeants gave us a simple rule of thumb: the "plainer" the uniform, the higher the rank. And, strangely enough, that proved to be accurate...
And that reminds me of another story about saluting:
During our final week of basic we standing in formation when an officer passed by. Our senior TI (the one who was about to retire) was supposed to to bring us to attention and order the salute, but he just stood there looking the other direction... Finally, the dorm chief whispered to him "Sir! There's an officer approaching!" and the TI's response was "Yeah - I see him... He's a lieutenant... I don't salute lieutenants"... Yeah - after spending almost 6 weeks drilling military rules and procedures into us the drill sergeant had finally given us a glimpse of the real Air Force... But I totally digress :-)
The point of all this is that one day our flight was assigned KP duty at the foreign officers mess. (And a "mess" it was...)
They woke us up "gawdawful" early and marched us across the base in total darkness to wherever the heck it was they housed the foreign officers. Then there was a long briefing on proper etiquette because many of the officers were members of the "elite" in their home countries and the Air Force didn't want us to inadvertently trigger an international incident...
But my main memory from that day was the "food" (I use the term loosely)... The mess hall was stocked with native fare from every country represented at Lackland and a lot of it was stuff that most Americans would never consider eating - and even if we would eat it we sure wouldn't eat it raw... Yeah - I didn't even want to know what most of it was. (I do recall that there were eggs from unusual animals and some type of snake meat. Apparently you can eat darn near anything if you put enough honey on it.)
I was one the guys that had to collect the trays from the tables and scrape all the leftovers off the plates, and the sight and smell of some of that stuff was making us gag.
Yes - I know... Different cultures have different norms, and I'm being very narrow minded and intolerant in my assessment of their eating habits. But from the perspective of a 19 year old American who grew up in a "less enlightened" era - that stuff was just plain gross :-)
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