Chapter 11

The patter of rain fell against the top of my helmet as I paced up and down the concrete path leading between the buildings of the weapons complex. The cold wind blowing across the open parade field felt as if it came straight from the Artic. What I was doing there was the uppermost question on my mind, two in the morning, with a mattock handle, walking a beat in a god forsaken corner of Ft. Knox, hoping that if I saw anyone other than the poor bastard on the other beat; it would be a terrorist attempting to break in rather than a drill sergeant. Terrorist seemed mild compared to the evil of my drill sergeants, especially Senior Drill Sergeant Pimental. I had long since counted the steps between one end and the other of this guard post as it had been described to me. I paused long enough to push up my poncho and read my watch, SHIT, only 3 minutes had passed since I last consulted it. Would two hours never pass? My mind wondered back to the events that had lead up to my being here.

Sometime in early 1982 I'd been out of a job, married and broke, the military seemed like a great option, but now, my opinion had changed greatly. We had talked it over, my wife and I, and in view of the job market in South Georgia at the time, it seemed a great idea. I'd do basic, and then we would escape the little hick town I was raised in and be off into a brave new world. Together, we'd travel to exotic places, meet all new people and be happy ever after.

As the time for my departure loomed, it began to look a lot different, we'd never been separated for more that a day at the most since we'd started dating two years before. The night before I left she'd cried in my arms all night, not exactly the send off I'd hoped for. The next day, my father put me on the bus in Tallahassee, acting brave, but when he hugged me just before I got on the bus; he'd surprised me with tears in his eyes.

I began to regret my decision all the way to Jacksonville, all the next day at MEPS, and through the flight to Kentucky. Upon landing at Louisville and the being herded to Ft Knox, I discovered I had no idea how badly I'd screwed up, but I was learning quickly. Never in my young years had anyone, not even Coach Shealy, talked to me like this. I would soon learn that even this was tame in comparison to what I was soon to encounter.

The next day was spent getting shots, clothing issue, taking test and filling out miles and miles of paperwork, being poked and prodded by everyone from dentist to doctors and anyone else who came along. My glasses had been confiscated and in their place, I was issued glasses that looked like they were designed in the early 1950's. My hair, which had hung past my shoulders was now a stubble against my scalp, and looking into the mirror, I had no idea who it was staring back at me. No longer was I Mickey, but rather, I was now Charlie0065, more commonly referred to as Numbnuts or worse.

The days that followed were a blur, as we were processed into the system, at each formation new faces appeared and ones that had become slightly familiar disappeared, having been processed and sent to their training units. Nights we pulled fire guard in the old splinter barracks which were a hold over from the days of WWII. We were living in a sort of limbo, waiting the time our number would be called and we would be off to start our basic training. We got our introduction to Army chow, formations, and the age old routine of "hurry up and wait".

After about three days, we fell in for the noon formation, and it happened. From his wooden podium up front, one of the sergeants called out.

"LISTEN UP MAGGOTS, THE FOLLOWING NUMBERS FALL OUT TO MY LEFT, CHARLIE 0001, 0002,... 0065, 0066..."

Hurriedly I crossed over to the growing rank of men, as I lined up at the end of the line, I noticed a group of new drill sergeants glowering at us from a few feet away. I remember thinking that they all looked as if they wanted to kill us all on the spot. I stood with about 200 other men, waiting until the sergeant on the platform quit speaking. He dismissed the remaining recruits, stepped down off the podium and handed a large stack of files to the awaiting drill sergeants.

"All yours Drill" he said, he looked over at us and gave a small smile, "Have fun Ladies."

I can't really describe what took place next except to say that it was one of the busiest few hours of my life, the drill sergeants who had looked like they wanted to kill us immediately set out to prove they intended to do just that. Under a hail of curses and screaming, they herded us into a nearby hall, and began to inform us of the contempt in which the held us. From there we were rushed to our barracks to grab our belongings, then back to a room with large bins arranged into a square.