December 1986
The hour is late, but I'm still awake. I'm sitting on the tile bathroom floor in my t-shirt and underpants, ironing my socks and folding my underwear into perfect six-inch squares. I have a ruler, and I'm trying hard to get it right. We will be inspected in the morning, and the Training Instructors will have rulers too.
Measuring my underwear seems like the stupidest thing in the world, and I try to go about my business without laughing at the absurdity. Basic Military Training is frequently like that. Over the years I finally understand the underwear folding to be a form of kata, a ritualized action to learn a pattern of behavior. In karate one performs kicks, punches and blocks in a ritual dance to learn the movements, the style of the art. Folding underwear in perfect squares is not in itself a useful activity, but the military mind requires unquestioning obedience and perfect adherence to instructions. They aren't going to give us airplanes or whatever to fix until we can demonstrate this kata.
Twenty years later, certain cold, misty mornings remind me of winter in Texas.
I joined the Air Force to get out of my mother's basement.
I didn't know I was handicapped. Then I went through the Military Enlistment Processing Center, MEPS. When I came out I was crushed. I wanted to go into an electronics field, but I'm colorblind. I seldom notice it, my particular version is subtle. Regardless, I was ineligible for all the maintenance and repair jobs. I had to go home and think about it for a while. My option was to go in without a clue what job I might be offered, and hope for the best.
About a month into Basic we got our job lists. Some people were given nice long lists to chose from. Not me. I had to chose from Intelligence, Cook, or Communications. There were other things on the list, but they were coded for "normal color vision". We had to chose three thing from the list. I put down Intelligence twice, and Communications. I got Communications.
The Air Force is not really "armed" forces at the enlisted level. We had a day on the shooting range, but we only shot 50 rounds of .22 Long-Rifle ammo through converted AR15's. That's a box of bullets about the size of a Matchbox Firetruck, or a Halloween Snickers bar. The day before was classroom time. One hour on how to load a clip into the weapon. Break. One hour on how to remove the clip from the weapon. Break. One hour on how to look through the sights at a target. That's it. I did okay, but I didn't earn the marksmanship ribbon.
One of the tasks in Basic is "fire watch." Somebody has to be on duty at all times between lights out and reveille, and the trainees rotate through, in one hour shifts. There you are, exhausted, trying to get ten hours of sleep in seven hours, and somebody wakes you up with a flashlight pointing at your face, telling you to get up and get dressed. Then you stand at the lectern in the hallway studying your basic training manual. If you start to fall asleep it's time to go check all the electrical outlets with a flashlight and make sure there are no fires. Then you go back to bed. For a couple of weeks the number of guys in the squadron was just right for me to be the one who woke up two hours before formation, be on fire watch for one hour, then have one hour to try to go back to sleep.
I was usually the last guy dressed and out the door, even without firewatch. Not late enough to be in trouble, but last often enough to be noticed. Somehow, I always find it difficult to blend in with a crowd.
Measuring my underwear seems like the stupidest thing in the world, and I try to go about my business without laughing at the absurdity. Basic Military Training is frequently like that. Over the years I finally understand the underwear folding to be a form of kata, a ritualized action to learn a pattern of behavior. In karate one performs kicks, punches and blocks in a ritual dance to learn the movements, the style of the art. Folding underwear in perfect squares is not in itself a useful activity, but the military mind requires unquestioning obedience and perfect adherence to instructions. They aren't going to give us airplanes or whatever to fix until we can demonstrate this kata.
Twenty years later, certain cold, misty mornings remind me of winter in Texas.
I joined the Air Force to get out of my mother's basement.
I didn't know I was handicapped. Then I went through the Military Enlistment Processing Center, MEPS. When I came out I was crushed. I wanted to go into an electronics field, but I'm colorblind. I seldom notice it, my particular version is subtle. Regardless, I was ineligible for all the maintenance and repair jobs. I had to go home and think about it for a while. My option was to go in without a clue what job I might be offered, and hope for the best.
About a month into Basic we got our job lists. Some people were given nice long lists to chose from. Not me. I had to chose from Intelligence, Cook, or Communications. There were other things on the list, but they were coded for "normal color vision". We had to chose three thing from the list. I put down Intelligence twice, and Communications. I got Communications.
The Air Force is not really "armed" forces at the enlisted level. We had a day on the shooting range, but we only shot 50 rounds of .22 Long-Rifle ammo through converted AR15's. That's a box of bullets about the size of a Matchbox Firetruck, or a Halloween Snickers bar. The day before was classroom time. One hour on how to load a clip into the weapon. Break. One hour on how to remove the clip from the weapon. Break. One hour on how to look through the sights at a target. That's it. I did okay, but I didn't earn the marksmanship ribbon.
One of the tasks in Basic is "fire watch." Somebody has to be on duty at all times between lights out and reveille, and the trainees rotate through, in one hour shifts. There you are, exhausted, trying to get ten hours of sleep in seven hours, and somebody wakes you up with a flashlight pointing at your face, telling you to get up and get dressed. Then you stand at the lectern in the hallway studying your basic training manual. If you start to fall asleep it's time to go check all the electrical outlets with a flashlight and make sure there are no fires. Then you go back to bed. For a couple of weeks the number of guys in the squadron was just right for me to be the one who woke up two hours before formation, be on fire watch for one hour, then have one hour to try to go back to sleep.
I was usually the last guy dressed and out the door, even without firewatch. Not late enough to be in trouble, but last often enough to be noticed. Somehow, I always find it difficult to blend in with a crowd.
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