Chapter 4: Military Orientation

Cromwell Military Academy was a sixty-mile drive from the Oldham home. I immediately took a dislike to the drive and to the school. Even after weeks of preparation, Monday was such a shock I cried myself to sleep that night, but only after I heard Charlie Evans crying, too.

We were the only ones in the room. The sophomores were due to arrive on Wednesday afternoon; the juniors on Thursday and the seniors were to report in on Friday to pick up their books and uniforms. I didn't know what Charlie's problem was; I didn't even know what my problem was. I tried thinking of Colleen and Alice and Suzanne. I even thought of Becky, but nothing helped. All I could think of was how Mr. Oldham and Ned had betrayed my trust. I had done everything they asked and they repaid me by sending me to this place. I buried my head in my pillow and bawled.

We were administered tests, given a complete physical, issued uniforms and books, instructed how to stand and how to march, how to sit, how to eat, and how to address our superiors.

Charlie and I, being freshmen, were equals; everyone else was superior to us. He was a fair-haired kid, taller than me, on the thin side.

Lights out was at ten o'clock and I was getting ready to select a female companion to put me to sleep when I heard Charlie whisper. "How did you do on those tests?"

"Rotten," I answered, finding it easier to talk in the dark. I knew I had done okay on the math test, but had probably failed the reading comprehension.

"Did the puzzles drive you nuts?"

"Yeah," I said. Actually, I thought the tests to measure one's logic were kind of neat, and I knew I had done okay. You had to work your way through a maze. It was tricky, but I thought I had ended up in the right room at the end.

"How come you're in here? I heard you got busted or something." He sounded cautiously curious.

"Yeah, I got in a little trouble. What about you?"

"My folks split up. Mom got to keep the house, but she had to go back to work. My old man thought this would be good for me."

"Bummer," I said, unable to think of anything else to say. I don't think Charlie cried that night. I know I didn't. It felt good to compare notes with someone my own age.

The sophomores arrived while we were on one of the athletic fields where two very demonstrative instructors showed us how calisthenics were done at C.M.A. After running the perimeter of the field a couple of times we were split into two groups and instructed to 'Walk like a duck.'

Mr. Krown demonstrated by scrunching down on his haunches and taking a few steps, walking on the balls of his feet. I wondered way Ned had not introduced me to this means of transporting ones self from one side of the field to the other. At least I had been exercising for several weeks and my thighs were not burning as much as Charlie's and some of the other kids.

"Walk like a duck," Mr. Krown yelled at us when we made the mistake of lifting our butt to relieve the ache in our upper thighs.

By the time we got back to the room Charlie was alternating between his father and Mr. Krown, cursing his father for sending him here, and Mr. Krown for putting us through such grueling torture.

"Who told you to enter without knocking?"

We caught a glimpse of two kids before the door to our room was slammed in our faces. I looked at Charlie and we both shrugged.

I knocked on the door.

"That's not how you knock," the same voice yelled. "Tap your knuckle once on the center of the door. I knocked again, once, using my knuckle.

"Enter, cadet ducks."

I opened the door and Charlie and I stepped inside the room we had shared the past two nights. Two boys stood at the far end of the room near the windows, both wearing school uniforms with one stripe on the sleeves.

"When the door is closed you will knock as instructed and then you will wait until the senior cadet in the room gives you permission to enter. Today that's me; I'm student cadet Craig. Do you understand?"

"Yes sir," we said in unison.

"When did ducks learn how to talk? You will answer in duck language, quack for yes sir, squawk for no sir. Do you understand?"

"Quack," we both answered.

"Do you understand why you must knock before entering the room?"

Charlie and I gave him an obligatory "quack." We were hurriedly changing into our uniforms to get ready for the evening meal.

"I don't think you do," said Craig. He had moved to stand next to me. "What if I had a girl in my bed and was getting ready to fuck her when you knocked on the door? If you barged into the room without knocking I would have to punish you. But if you knocked I would tell you to go away because I was busy and then just have to reprimand you later. Wouldn't a reprimand be better than punishment? Now do you understand the reason for the knock before entering rule?"

"Quack," I said, trying to keep a straight face. Out of the corner of my eye I could see Carter shake his head, smirking. He was the other sophomore.

We marched to the dining room as Company C, one of five companies in the school. We numbered eight sophomores and eight freshmen. We ate dinner in silence, eyes forward, shoulders squared. When we returned to the room the harassment continued, Craig and Carter imparting their wisdom about everything from how to make our beds in the morning to how to masturbate without making noise. I began to hate Craig who would occupy the bunk under mine; Carter was not so bad.

That night I thought about Colleen as I tried to go to sleep. Would I see her before she left for school? Would I get to kiss her again?

The following day the juniors arrived and took charge of the room. Jarvis proclaimed himself the senior cadet and replaced Craig in that capacity. Harold Smith, the other third year student, was just as arrogant and demanding. I wondered how Charlie was dealing with this; we didn't get a chance to talk.

That evening when Company C marched to the dining room there were twenty-four of us. Six of us sat at the table reserved for room 3 C. The juniors were the only ones who were allowed to talk. Jarvis and Smith amused us with stories of their past experiences at C.M. A. We didn't dare to even crack a smile.

On Friday afternoon we stood behind Jarvis as he knocked on the door to the room. A deep baritone voice granted us permission to enter the room.

Two seniors were standing next to the window bunks. The juniors and sophomores took up their position next to their bunks. Charlie and I followed suit, standing at attention. Craig motioned for me to move to my right, which I promptly did.

"Welcome to another year in room 3 C," said the tall black cadet. There were gold colored bars on his shoulders. "For those who do not know me I'm cadet officer Foster," he said as he walked around the room, "Jarvis, Smith, Craig, Carter," he nodded to each cadet as he said their names. "Oldham, I'm happy to make your acquaintance," he said to me as he shook my hand and looked into my eyes. "Welcome to room 3 C Evans," he said to Charlie.

At the door cadet officer Foster turned the meeting over to the other senior who had three stripes on his uniform sleeves. "My name is Dale Porter. I'm your room leader. Jordon Foster is on the commandant's staff and will have his own room down the hall. But he is also attached to this room and he has a stake in how well we do so we will be seeing him from time to time. His academic scores are counted along with ours, and he will participate with us in extra curricular activities. Believe me men; you don't want to piss off officer cadet Foster. We are going to have a good year. We're going to be the top room in the school. Now go have a shower and let's get out of here."