The Cadet (6 page)

Chapter Five

“Rock Around the Clock”

July 11, 1955

United States Air Force Academy

Lowry Field, CO

“The discipline which makes the soldiers of a free country reliable in battle is not to be gained by harsh or tyrannical treatment. On the contrary, such treatment is far more likely to destroy than to make an army. It is possible to impart instruction and give commands in such a manner and such a tone of voice as to inspire in the soldier no feeling but an intense desire to obey, while the opposite manner and tone of voice cannot fail to excite strong resentment and a desire to disobey. The one mode or the other of dealing with subordinates springs from a corresponding spirit in the breast of a commander. He who feels the respect which is due to others cannot fail to inspire in them respect for himself, while he who feels, and hence manifests, disrespect toward others, especially his subordinates, cannot fail to inspire hatred against himself.”

—Major General John M. Schofield’s graduation address to the West Point graduating class of 1879

Captain Justice’s voice blasted them like a wash of ionized air from a jet engine. “All right, gentlemen, the show is over for mommy and daddy.” B squadron stood stiffly at attention outside of their dorm as Justice walked their rows.

“It’s time to suck it up, for you are now basic cadets, not civilians anymore. Therefore, you are legally bound to obey my orders and anyone over you—which means every damned person on this planet except for the waiters in Mitchell Hall. Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir!”

“From now on you are only allowed five responses to any question: yes, sir; no, sir; no excuse, sir; sir, I do not know; and sir, I do not understand. Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir!”

“And finally, unless you’re told otherwise, you remain at attention in everything you do, everywhere you go. That means everywhere—when you’re taking a piss, when you’re in the hallways, when you’re eating: Everywhere. When an officer enters your room, you pop to attention. When you are outside, you double time. Is that clear?”

“Yes, sir!” So far, Rod could tell that life was not going to be complicated, just strict. It just seemed that he’d be standing at attention for the rest of his life.

“Now get your butts upstairs and fall into formation outside of your room. Before we start training you must put your room together. Dismissed!”

The basics stepped backwards and turned on their heels. Breaking ranks, they pressed their arms close to their sides and ran back to the dorm … but in their way was a gauntlet of screaming, red-faced, veins-bulging-from-their-heads, hair cropped so close to their scalps that the white untanned flesh stood out against stubble, white-gloved, trembling, and mad-as-hell officers that corrected their every move.

“Chin in, smacko! What are you doing, gaping around? Are you buying real estate? Double time in place. Knees up, up, up!”

Rod started running in place, his chin rammed so far into his chest that he had trouble breathing. He pressed his elbows tightly to his side.

The officer held a white-gloved hand three feet above the ground and screamed just inches from his face, “Come on, mister, hit my hand with your knees! You’re not trying unless you can touch my hand. Do you understand me?”

“Yes, sir!”

“I can’t hear you, basic! Let’s hear you sing the ‘Star Spangled Banner. ’”

“Yes, sir. Oh, say can you see …” Rod gasped for breath as he continued to run in place, trying to hit the officer’s hand which moved out of reach with every thrust of Rod’s knee. Finishing, he bellowed, “… and the home of the brave!” He pulled in a chest full of dry Colorado air, feeling pleased with himself that he had finished—

“Is that it? What’s the second verse?”

A chill of terror washed over him. “Sir, I do not know.”

“YOU DO NOT KNOW!” Captain Justice ran up and joined in the fray. Both officers screamed in his ears. “What’s the correct, response, mister?”

“No excuse, sir!”

“That’s right, you miserable excuse for a human being! Can’t you follow orders?”

“Yes, sir!”

“What are you, mister, some kind of high school hot dog, thinking this is Colorado Women’s College?”

“No, sir!”

“Then let’s hear the fourth stanza of the ‘Star Spangled Banner’! Sound off, mister!”

“Sir, no excuse, sir!”

The first officer moved away and joined in another yell-fest going on next to Rod. In the instant the other officer left, Rod could tell that it was a free-for-all, as if every officer within a thousand miles had donned white gloves and was preventing the new basic cadets from ever reaching their dorms.

Captain Justice looked incredulous. “What do you mean, no excuse, mister?”

Five responses, he thought. No way am I going to say anything else. “No excuse, sir!”

Justice’s face grew even redder. “You don’t know the fourth stanza?”

“No, sir!”

“Incredible! That is the most disgusting thing I have ever heard in my entire life. A member of the first United States Air Force Academy class not knowing the fourth stanza of the greatest song in the history of mankind! There are communists out there that know that stanza, and you’re telling me that you don’t?”

“Yes, sir!”

“Drop and give me twenty. You disgust me. Your whole class disgusts me.”

Rod felt as if his arms were about to drop off as he pushed up from the concrete.

“Sound off, mister, or don’t you know how to count, either?”

“Yes, sir! Fifteen, sixteen—”

“You’re not counting for yourself, you stupid smack, you’re counting for me. The correct way to count is: One, sir. Two, sir. Three, sir. Understand?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Then start over. Hit it!”

“Yes, sir. One, sir. Two, sir. Three, sir …” By the time Rod had finished, Justice was yelling at another basic. Rod momentarily thought about telling Captain Justice that he had finished, but he remembered his orders: five responses and don’t speak unless spoken to.

So he decided to pop up and make a play for the door.

Within seconds he was in the stairwell, heading for the second floor when someone screamed, “Halt!” The sound echoed against the hollow walls.

Rod froze, not daring to look around. Two other basics ahead of him stopped as well. Oh, great. Just when he thought he had slipped away unnoticed. He wondered if he was ever going to make it to his room.

A voice from above snarled down. “Climb the stairs one at a time! If you use two steps you might slip and fall, then it will take all day to clean your puny little brains off the cement. Go back down and do it again.”

“Yes, sir,” they said. Turning on their heels, they each executed a perfect about face and trotted down the stairs. Reaching the bottom they took the stairs again.

“Keep your hands off that railing! And climb the stairs at attention! Do it again!”

“Yes, sir!” Once again they negotiated their way down the stairs, only to turn and race back up, but this time with their chins rammed into their chest, their arms squeezed tightly to their side and looking straight ahead.

“What are you men doing under cover?” screamed the voice as they huffed to the top of the stairs.

“No excuse, sir!” Rod was totally confused, but no way was he going to admit it.

“Then get back down and do it again; but this time remove your hats! Who are you weenies, hicks from Appalachia? Gentlemen don’t wear their hats indoors unless they’re carrying their weapons. This isn’t the damned Navy!”

“Yes, sir.” Rod removed his cap, tucked it tightly under his arm, and trotted down the stairs. Once again, he turned and started up the steps, the stairway from hell that seemed to add steps every time he negotiated it. The bawling out he’d received from Captain Justice suddenly didn’t seem so bad when compared to running the stairs.

“You men are disgusting. Now speed out. You’re late getting to your rooms!”

Rod felt light headed by the time he finally reached the top. The constant running in the high altitude made him dizzy, especially coming from sea level. His stomach grumbled; what little meal he had eaten at noon was now a distant memory.

He didn’t have time to think about his dizziness or his hunger much longer. As he stepped out of the stairwell, he saw a line of angry officers correcting his classmates who were backed up against the wall.

He felt as if he had stepped into the last circle of hell.

Time slowed to a near standstill as Rod drank in the horrific sounds of officers yelling, basics screaming.

He heard feet thumping against the wooden floor as basics ran in place; other classmates hoarsely tried to sing “America the Beautiful,” “the Star Spangled Banner,” and “God Bless America” while struggling to do squat-thrusts.

Basic cadets were slammed up with their backs against the wall. “Touch my hand with the back of your neck, mister! Get that chin in!”

Still others ran in place at attention as they tried to recite the oath of Allegiance they had just taken on the crowd-filled runway. A line of basics bobbed up and down, alternatively hitting the wooden floor to do squat-thrusts then jumping up to run in place.

Someone bumped against Rod’s back as he came up from the stairwell. Rod didn’t dare turn around to see who had run into him.

“Oh, no,” moaned a voice behind him.

Rod had to make his move. Any second someone would notice him.

With no place to hide, Rod pressed his arms tightly to his side and braced into the most exaggerated contortion of attention that he could muster. He stepped into the free-for-all and kept as far to the right as he could.

“Good afternoon, sir!” He screamed. He executed a perfect square turn around an officer who was bawling out one of his classmates.

It worked. He must have looked as though he belonged, and was following someone’s orders. He yelled, “Good afternoon, sir!” and moved three steps—

Twenty minutes later, Rod finally turned into his room, dripping with sweat and exhausted. His arms felt as if they were going to fall off from squat-thrusts, his legs ached from running in place, and his back and neck were sore from slamming back against the wall. Yelling rolled in from outside the room, a white noise of confusion. The floor vibrated with the deep thumps of basics hitting the floorboards.

Rod quickly stepped out of sight from the hallway, back into a corner next to the closet. The two beds in the room had clothes dumped on them from when he and his roommate had finished their frantic in-processing. A thought struck him that he’d have to hang the clothes up, make his bed, and place his underwear in the small dresser. He grabbed a shirt off the bed and started to hang it in the closet.

Someone marched into the room. Rod popped to attention. “Afternoon, sir!”

The person who entered immediately swung around. “Good afternoon, sir!”

Obviously on a hair trigger to react, they realized at the same time that they were both basics.

Rod’s shoulders slumped in relief as he remained out of sight from the craziness just outside the door. “Hi. I guess we’re roommates.”

The short basic stuck out a hand. “Howdy. I’m Sylvester Jakes, my friends call me Sly.” Although he smiled, his eyes looked as if he’d been crying.

“Hi, Sly.”

“Not sly enough to get past those Neanderthals roaming the hallway.”

It suddenly hit Rod that the short basic was the wiseacre in the barbershop who couldn’t take anything seriously.
Great.
Not only do I get to room with a comedian, but I wonder how much hot water he’s going to get me in?
Rod forced a smile. “Any idea what we’re supposed to do?”

“Beats me. I’m just thankful to still be alive.”

“Minute by minute.”

“What are you doing?” Sly cocked an eye at Rod’s shirt hanging in the closet.

“I figure they’re going to want to know why we haven’t straightened our room.”

“And we’re supposed to guess where everything goes.”

Rod shrugged. “Might as well start. Besides,” he stepped back by the closet, “they can’t see you from out there.”

Sly brightened. “I’m rooming with a genius! What a terrific idea.” He swept up an armful of hangers from his bed and moved to the closet.

“Room, atten’hut!” Rod spotted the officer walk into the room and barely managed to yell out the warning to Sly.

The two men dropped their hangers. They clattered to the floor and bounced under the bed.

The officer wore bright, shiny silver bars of a first lieutenant. Blond and deeply tanned, the man looked as though he had just stepped out of a movie scene. Behind him, standing outside the door, stood six basics at rigid attention.

“Good evening, gentlemen. We’re having a flight meeting in your room.” The officer motioned the waiting basics to join them. He was the first officer in six hours not to yell. “Enter, men. And speed out, we have a lot to go over tonight.”

The basic cadets crowded into the room. Rod smelled a mix of body odor and sweat. The basics had been going at full steam since six this morning, and it was no wonder that they had begun to reek. Rod wondered if anyone else smelled it.

“Gather ’round, basics, and listen up. You have to get your room in shape, so pay attention. Stand at ease.” They snapped to parade rest.

“I’m Lieutenant Ranch, one of the Air Training Officers, and more importantly your flight commander. The ATOs will be acting as upperclassmen for the next two years. Captain Justice is our Air Officer Commanding, the AOC, and commands B squadron. You men are in Flight B-2, and for the next eight weeks will be under my command while you’re in Basic Cadet Training, or BCT. Tonight we’re going to go over some rules, and I’ll show you how to do everything from making your rack to shining your shoes. Pay attention to the details, because I guarantee that if you mess up the little things, the big ones will come back later to bite you in the ass. Understand?”

“Yes, sir!” Rod felt he was going to like the lanky, blond officer. Although Lieutenant Ranch did not attempt to be friendly with the basics, he carried himself with a completely different demeanor than Captain Justice.