Trent Ruble's Blog: The Other Way It Is - Posts Tagged "lackland"
All-Expense Paid Vacation in Sunny San Antonio!
On April 12, 1980, the direction of my life changed dramatically. I had graduated from high school about a year earlier and had been working as a clerk in a drugstore. I knew that wasn't going to be a sufficient career choice so, on that day, I entered the United States Air Force. On that day I began my Basic Military Training at Lackland Air Force Base in San Antonio, Texas. I was 18 years old and had never been on my own for more than a few days. I wouldn't be on my own during these six weeks, either.
On that chilly Spring day, myself and several other recruits boarded a commercial flight from Indianapolis to San Antonio for our six-week get away. Immediately upon our arrival I found that the weather couldn't have been more pleasant. We were met at the airport by some friendly folks from the Air Force who directed us to the buses that would take us to the base. When we arrived, these friendly guys took us to our dormitory and told us to put our things away and get to bed early because we had a big day the next day. It was the calm before the storm.
At about Oh-Dark-Thirty, one of those friendly guys rolled an aluminum trash can down the aisle between the beds, all the while screaming at the top of his lungs that we'd better be dressed and lined up outside in five minutes. Evidently he was schizophrenic considering his nice demeanor the previous evening. I'd planned to take my time getting ready that morning because I knew appearance was important in the military. But, I'm the kind of guy that usually takes about an hour and a half to get showered, brush my teeth, shave and get dressed, so I knew something had to give. Of course we had an idea about basic training so the general consensus among the recruits was that we'd better skip all that and get out there.
Once outside I noticed that, just like me, everyone else looked as if they'd just gotten out of bed. That is, except for the drill sergeants, or Technical Instructors (TI's) as they're called in the Air Force. Their sharp appearance was a stark contrast to ours and, using especially loud and explicit language, they made sure we knew it. They labeled us "Rainbows" due to the variety of colors of our civilian clothing. The TI's; Sergeant Pichon and Sergeant Roberts, then led us directly to the base barber shop where everyone received the same buzz cut.
In the first few days we were issued uniforms and a military identification card, and then spent a lot of time learning to march. During one of our marches, Sergeant Pichon noticed one of my fellow recruits wearing a watch, which was strictly forbidden. He told the young man, whose name I can't remember, that if he wanted to wear a watch so much that he would violate the rules, then he would wear one everyday and, whenever the TI would want to know the time, he would simply say, "Time!" The recruit with the watch would then say, "Sir, ding-dong, the time is..." It seemed that Sgt. Pichon always wanted to know the time whenever we passed a flight of females.
On a Saturday, about mid-way through the training course, it was my 19th birthday. I celebrated by working KP (Kitchen Patrol) duty. That evening I opened a birthday present from my mom; a box of homemade cookies. When Sergeant Roberts saw what I had, he told me to pass them around the room so everyone could share in my celebration. When the box got back to me there were none left. A note to mothers and girlfriends of military recruits - Don't send packages to basic training.
In addition to KP, another duty we performed was that of Dormitory Guard. The shifts were scheduled around the clock for two hours each. The guard was to stand at parade rest reading the "Dormitory Guard Instructions," which were posted on the wall next to the entry door. The instructions indicated that, when someone came to the door, they could not be allowed into the dorm until they showed their military identification card. The guard was required to match the person's face with the photograph on the card, even if they recognized the person.
On one of my shifts there was a knock on the door. I came to attention, turned and faced the door. I recognized that it was Sgt. Roberts. I said, "Sir, may I see your identification card?" He said, "You know who I am, now let me in this door." I repeated my request for his ID card per the instructions. He said in a loud agitated voice, "Ruble, if you don't open this door, I'm going to kick your a**!" I again repeated my request and he flashed his identification card quickly and with his thumb over the photo. I said, "Sir, I was not able to see the photograph on the ID card." After some more loud complaining, he displayed his ID card and I was able to confirm that the photo matched. I let him in and he said, "Good job. Do you want to see the first card I showed you?" I said, "Yes, Sir." He then showed me a card with a photo of Mickey Mouse. He said, "It's a good thing you didn't let me in after showing that card, Boy." I knew that was right.
As the weeks passed, I found myself in the number one position for the Honor Graduate ribbon. This was awarded to the trainee with the best academic score. However, the graduate could not have failed any inspections. Unfortunately, I failed our last inspection. It was obvious I'd failed when I saw Sergeant Pichon pull my wardrobe down, spilling the contents everywhere. I had been diligent to prepare for the inspection just as I always had but, this time, it wasn't good enough. I've always wondered if there was another reason I failed that inspection.
Our six-week "vacation" neared its end on Memorial Day weekend. The only remaining training day was the Tuesday following the holiday, which was graduation day. Because of this, the TIs gave us the weekend off. I chose to spend a large portion of it at the base pool where I fell asleep in the sun. Unfortunately, by the time I woke up, I had the worst sunburn of my life, before or since. That night I got up to use the latrine and passed out on the floor. No one wants to lay on a bathroom floor but, of all the latrine floors in the world to pass out on, this would be the one I would choose. Not only is it the cleanest, but it's one of only a few to have a 24 hour a day Dorm Guard just outside the door. The guard heard me fall and came to check on me. He quickly summoned help and I ended up in the hospital with heat exhaustion. When Sergeant Roberts stopped in to check on me I asked only that I be allowed to graduate. He assured me that, provided I followed the doctor's order that I drink eight quarts of water a day in order to replenish my fluids, I would be able to graduate on time. Eight quarts is a lot of water, but I was able to do it long enough to graduate.
On May 27, 1980, I graduated from Basic Training and soon was on a bus across Texas to my tech school, peeling my dead skin along the way. I was so glad to have basic training behind me that I decided I would never do anything like that again. Evidently "never" isn't a very long time because, in September, 1985, I entered the Indiana Law Enforcement Academy.
On that chilly Spring day, myself and several other recruits boarded a commercial flight from Indianapolis to San Antonio for our six-week get away. Immediately upon our arrival I found that the weather couldn't have been more pleasant. We were met at the airport by some friendly folks from the Air Force who directed us to the buses that would take us to the base. When we arrived, these friendly guys took us to our dormitory and told us to put our things away and get to bed early because we had a big day the next day. It was the calm before the storm.
At about Oh-Dark-Thirty, one of those friendly guys rolled an aluminum trash can down the aisle between the beds, all the while screaming at the top of his lungs that we'd better be dressed and lined up outside in five minutes. Evidently he was schizophrenic considering his nice demeanor the previous evening. I'd planned to take my time getting ready that morning because I knew appearance was important in the military. But, I'm the kind of guy that usually takes about an hour and a half to get showered, brush my teeth, shave and get dressed, so I knew something had to give. Of course we had an idea about basic training so the general consensus among the recruits was that we'd better skip all that and get out there.
Once outside I noticed that, just like me, everyone else looked as if they'd just gotten out of bed. That is, except for the drill sergeants, or Technical Instructors (TI's) as they're called in the Air Force. Their sharp appearance was a stark contrast to ours and, using especially loud and explicit language, they made sure we knew it. They labeled us "Rainbows" due to the variety of colors of our civilian clothing. The TI's; Sergeant Pichon and Sergeant Roberts, then led us directly to the base barber shop where everyone received the same buzz cut.
In the first few days we were issued uniforms and a military identification card, and then spent a lot of time learning to march. During one of our marches, Sergeant Pichon noticed one of my fellow recruits wearing a watch, which was strictly forbidden. He told the young man, whose name I can't remember, that if he wanted to wear a watch so much that he would violate the rules, then he would wear one everyday and, whenever the TI would want to know the time, he would simply say, "Time!" The recruit with the watch would then say, "Sir, ding-dong, the time is..." It seemed that Sgt. Pichon always wanted to know the time whenever we passed a flight of females.
On a Saturday, about mid-way through the training course, it was my 19th birthday. I celebrated by working KP (Kitchen Patrol) duty. That evening I opened a birthday present from my mom; a box of homemade cookies. When Sergeant Roberts saw what I had, he told me to pass them around the room so everyone could share in my celebration. When the box got back to me there were none left. A note to mothers and girlfriends of military recruits - Don't send packages to basic training.
In addition to KP, another duty we performed was that of Dormitory Guard. The shifts were scheduled around the clock for two hours each. The guard was to stand at parade rest reading the "Dormitory Guard Instructions," which were posted on the wall next to the entry door. The instructions indicated that, when someone came to the door, they could not be allowed into the dorm until they showed their military identification card. The guard was required to match the person's face with the photograph on the card, even if they recognized the person.
On one of my shifts there was a knock on the door. I came to attention, turned and faced the door. I recognized that it was Sgt. Roberts. I said, "Sir, may I see your identification card?" He said, "You know who I am, now let me in this door." I repeated my request for his ID card per the instructions. He said in a loud agitated voice, "Ruble, if you don't open this door, I'm going to kick your a**!" I again repeated my request and he flashed his identification card quickly and with his thumb over the photo. I said, "Sir, I was not able to see the photograph on the ID card." After some more loud complaining, he displayed his ID card and I was able to confirm that the photo matched. I let him in and he said, "Good job. Do you want to see the first card I showed you?" I said, "Yes, Sir." He then showed me a card with a photo of Mickey Mouse. He said, "It's a good thing you didn't let me in after showing that card, Boy." I knew that was right.
As the weeks passed, I found myself in the number one position for the Honor Graduate ribbon. This was awarded to the trainee with the best academic score. However, the graduate could not have failed any inspections. Unfortunately, I failed our last inspection. It was obvious I'd failed when I saw Sergeant Pichon pull my wardrobe down, spilling the contents everywhere. I had been diligent to prepare for the inspection just as I always had but, this time, it wasn't good enough. I've always wondered if there was another reason I failed that inspection.
Our six-week "vacation" neared its end on Memorial Day weekend. The only remaining training day was the Tuesday following the holiday, which was graduation day. Because of this, the TIs gave us the weekend off. I chose to spend a large portion of it at the base pool where I fell asleep in the sun. Unfortunately, by the time I woke up, I had the worst sunburn of my life, before or since. That night I got up to use the latrine and passed out on the floor. No one wants to lay on a bathroom floor but, of all the latrine floors in the world to pass out on, this would be the one I would choose. Not only is it the cleanest, but it's one of only a few to have a 24 hour a day Dorm Guard just outside the door. The guard heard me fall and came to check on me. He quickly summoned help and I ended up in the hospital with heat exhaustion. When Sergeant Roberts stopped in to check on me I asked only that I be allowed to graduate. He assured me that, provided I followed the doctor's order that I drink eight quarts of water a day in order to replenish my fluids, I would be able to graduate on time. Eight quarts is a lot of water, but I was able to do it long enough to graduate.
On May 27, 1980, I graduated from Basic Training and soon was on a bus across Texas to my tech school, peeling my dead skin along the way. I was so glad to have basic training behind me that I decided I would never do anything like that again. Evidently "never" isn't a very long time because, in September, 1985, I entered the Indiana Law Enforcement Academy.
The Other Way It Is
The stories and opinions of author Trent Ruble.
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