Chapter 4

Boot Camp

January sixth Sunday

Processing day 1

We were transported to Fort Benning Georgia, we were excited and nervous, anxious to start training, we pulled in front of a large building with several drill sergeants waiting outside. They stood blank faced, not smiling, not talking, not moving.

As the bus came to a stop, the door flung open, and one of the sergeants boarded the bus. He glared at us and without saying a word, none of us made a sound. 'Welcome to Fort Benning, recruits. You have thirty seconds to get off this bus, grab your shit, and make your way into that building. Anyone left outside after thirty seconds will have a long night in the cold with me. Now get your asses moving!'

Les muttered, "Shiiit ... "
I silently agreed.

Reception, we did paperwork and were shuffled on to listen to speakers explain payroll, life insurance and the importance of our wills..., wait our WHAT?

This time I said 'Shiiit...'

Lester agreed.

Next is amnesty,

"This, is the Amnesty Box." the master sergeant said, as he pointed at the box, which had a small opening on the top,

"We, will leave the room for ten minutes. During that time period if you have anything you'd like to deposit - anonymously - in the Amnesty Box, it would behoove you to do so at that time."

"Without repercussions it would wise to deposit any contraband:

A sign had a list of contraband materials. Among them: firearms, knives, alcohol (including after-shave products), drugs, playing cards, condoms, obscene materials, or any photo larger than wallet size.

The list made no sense; half the forbidden materials seemed innocent. the other half only a crazy person would have brought anyway.

Now is your one-and-only chance to accept amnesty by disposing of such items. No names taken, no questions asked."

He left the room, we all looked at each other wondering if it was a trap.

A few guys walked up and dropped their contraband in the box.

Les and I slowly stood up and slowly walked to the amnesty box dropped in a little baggie, a few condoms in, then walking back seeing Dariel watching us innocently.

'Come on El, we know you have contraband, you better get rid of it.' I said.

'Who me?' he said.

'Yes you' I said.

'Well, here is the thing. I was smart enough to not bring anything on base, I don't need amnesty'

Smartass, I thought,

'No one likes a smartass' Les said.

The corpsman came back looked in the box and smiled like it was Christmas all over again. He took in out of the room, a Captain came back in and held up a gun, supposedly taken from the box. "The Army supplies you with weapons, gentlemen, you don't need to bring your own. he said and left again, leaving us to look around, wondering who the hell brought a gun to the Army.

Next were movies one covered hair. What styles and length we could have.

Next chow, an introduction to army food, it isn't great but I have learned it can always be worse.

Finally bed, "sweet dreams, gentlemen," the Spec 4 who'd led us to the barracks said as he walked out the door. I think I heard him snicker under his breath.

The smart ones or the fast got the lower bunk, the slower movers got left with the uppers. I got the upper above Les. That is when I learned the importance of moving fast, in the army.
I turned to watch my fellow soldiers each claim a bunk. The smart ones grabbed the lowers; slow movers like me got the upper bunks. I didn't care, by the time I peeled off my sneakers and crawled up and into the rack and pulled the Army blanket over my shoulders I was too worn out to think. The Army liked it that way. No energy to complain or fear what was coming next, just surprisingly grateful to lie down
and drift into the arms of ...

processing day 2

Clang! Clang! Clang!

WTF, I opened an eye, it's fucking three in the morning. Drill sergeant is bashing a trash can lid on the bunk.

'Rise and shine, what the fuck you lazy asses doin' sleepin' when I got a full fuckin' day planned for you?"

I was certain that was a rhetorical question as he kept walking banging on the bunks as he went.

I jumped from the bunk before my brain had time to wake, my feet hit the floor, my forehead slammed a locker on the way down. It cut a an inch-long gash above my right eyebrow. Blood was running down my face but I had already figured out to not flinch and stand at attention.

He kept banging the bunks men kept rolling out more or less asleep. He flipped the mattress Les was on, Les rolled out onto the floor swearing like a MOFO.

"Ohhh, did I interrupt yo favorite wet dream, honey pie?"

Again, a rhetorical question, except Lester, still not completely awake, made the mistake of attempting an answer, in this situation - and many that would follow over the next nine weeks - no answer was correct.

"I am assigned here to get yo lazy, worthless, fuckin' asses outside, and that should've happened an hour ago!" He turned purple; I swear - purple. "Now, drop yo cocks and grab yo socks! Be outside in five fuckin' minutes! Last swingin' dick out that door owes me twenty!"

Twenty? Twenty what?

As he turned to leave he paused in front of me to look at the blood running down my face. For the briefest of insane moments I thought he might show concern, ask what had happened, how I felt and then call an ambulance to take me to the base hospital, where doctors would declare me unfit for duty, award me a Purple Heart and put me on that bus back to Newark and out of this self-induced nightmare.
Instead, he squinted as though encountering the biggest turd ever dropped in his paththen smacked the garbage can lid against my bunk - Clang!
"Don't you dare bleed on mah floor, recruit.

"And leaning in closer he shouted, so that the words passed through my face and out myears to instruct the other 'recruits'

"And when a non-commissioned officer enters the barracks, the first idiot who sees him will call, "At ease!"

And, then all you other morons will assume the position of parade rest!" I said nothing, just quietly bled. His tiny black eyes scanned away from my face as he added, "Everyone comprendo?"
I speak Spanish so I politely answered for the group, "Yes, sir, Drill sergeant"

"My name is Drill Sergeant Sherman. I am not yo fuckin friend, not yo momma and not here to wipe yo fuckin asses!"

In the numbed silence that followed, I thought, "Recruit? Aren't we soldiers?" And then forty Recruits barreled through the doors where there wasn't any sign of Drill Sergeant Sherman or anyone above the rank of private. And the sun had yet to rise.
We'd just had our first lesson in Hurry Up and Wait.

Processing day 3

Today was shots, blood and hair.

We shuffled along for each, after the vampire stop, we got to hair, we all had seen the hair movie. So first guy sat down, barber did ask how he wanted his hair.

Bzzz, clippers came on, barber started at the back and buzzed it to the front. Then all the way around. We all stood bug eyed, I found out later, the army choice in hair, well that is for after basic, bald is for in basic.

We shuffled through the hall to supply. A slowly moving bunch of scared kids leaving civilization behind moving towards being a cog in the US army.

Uniforms, the next phase in making us all the same.
"You will receive one, each, bag, duffle!" the supply sergeant said.

"You will file through the door to my right, your left.

"You will enter a room. There you will file through the various stations to receive your uniforms and accessories.

'Do not attire any portion of the issued items until told to do so.

"Do not make any special requests.'

"Do not ask any questions.'

'Are there any questions? I didn't think so."
And we lift civilian to become Army.

Arms extended, we received layers of uniforms: fatigues, class A's, khakis, rain gear, boxer shorts, field jacket, socks, gloves, socks, leather black shell with wool inserts for the gloves and hats.
Into another administrative building for booking.

Here are fingerprinting stations, I remember that from before Miami. IDs similar to mug shots.
Head shaved, wrapped in Army green, fingertips black with ink, I studied my first plastic-coated US Army ID card. I looked like shit. No hair, a terrified stare at the camera and a scab above my right eyebrow where I'd banged the locker that morning, I made a mental note never to show it to mi madre, who, I realize now, still pictured me as the little boy with his sweet sisters (OK, at that point in time anyone from back home would look sweet.)
Les stood stoned-faced behind he. Dariel was next looking like me, looking scared and young.

Lots of things in the Army were like that.
Next shots, - Troop Medical Clinic #1.

"During your stay here at Uncle Sam's Summer Camp," the Spec 5 continued as though reading my mind, "You will receive approximately fifteen inoculations." Whaaat, we all stared at each other.
"Good news, it's only four or five shots. A couple are oral.'

I stepped to the alcohol station where my arms were scrubbed from shoulder to elbow with dripping alcohol-saturated cotton swabs.
It was cold. next the first inoculation station as the guy ahead of me, having already received his three shots, we were sent to a different station. This was for the famous 'peanut butter' shot.

There was a bit horse needle, filled with something that looks like peanut butter!

'What's that?' I made the mistake of asking.

'Peanut butter, now bend over, don't tense up.' I was told.

So I bent over and was in injected. Of course I tensed up, it's normal when faced with a horse needle containing peanut butter'
It hurt like hell, a big lump lump in my ass! For the next week I had a big red lump, I couldn't sit, it hurt to walk it ached. But four a.m. Wake up and become a soldier. But I digress.

Tonight we learn how to make a bed, we were given plenty of helpful advice.

This is when I learned what was meant 'owes me twenty meant' It could be anything from pushups, to pullups, situps, or later we found out is also includes laps.

This is where I learned what getting smoked is in our US military.

Is is any one of these or a combination of assorted corrective actions, apparently this is called 'smoking'

Thus ended our in-processing.

What have I gotten myself in for.