Wake Up Call

After a fitful night I am finally drifting off to sleep with thoughts of the morning to come with a bugler in the distance playing reveille at sunrise to signal the start of a new day when – CRASH! BANG! Metal objects are being tortured and a little corporal screams incomprehensibly at the top of his lungs. I catch a word or two here and there “scum, maggots, bastards” and realize this is in lieu of the bugles more sensitive tones. But – good God! It’s still the middle of the night! It’s DARK outside. Finally, words we can understand “SHIT, SHOWER AND SHAVE!” (SHINE will be added after we are issued our Gucci booties) “You got 15 minutes to finish and assemble outside.”
Training begins. The Drill Instructor (D.I.) takes over from the corporal. (Later, I find the Air Force does not have “corporals” and he was an Airman First Class.) First, we must learn to walk as a group (march) in semi-parallel lines. I get some idea of the level of training the Air Force finds necessary when the first half hour is devoted to identifying the “left” foot and making it move upon command. As we straggle to the chow hall we pass veteran trainees (they came last week) who heap verbal abuse on us “long hairs.” I’m not sure if I can eat before sunrise so I pay particular attention to the famous world-wide warning at chow halls “Take all you want – but eat all you take.” Guards at the exit make sure that everything you scrape from your tray is inedible garbage, bones, empty cartons, etc. Otherwise, as they are fond of saying, “your ass is grass and I’m the lawn mower.” As the last little piggy exits the D.I. shouts “FALL IN!” a command we learned earlier.
Next stop – the barber shop, where one cut fits all. The barbers have their little joke with the first recruits in the chair with “How would you like it cut, son?” Then rapidly proceed with the billiard ball special. The rest of us get the idea.
Next, we trudge to the fatigue boutique and after some quick measurements we take our order slips to each stop and are issued: undies, socks, fatigues, Class “A” uniforms, shoes and boots. We dress in our new fatigues and pack our civvies in a box which we address to our home address. Our last vestiges of individuality are gone and we are ready to become valuable cogs in the giant industrial military wheel known as the United States Armed Forces.
Hut – two – three - four