Chapter 16

17:35 PDT Wednesday, August 21^st, 1991

7914-B Arthur Street

Oakland, CA 94621

Her routine was no more, Lenore sighed. The days of greeting the Gunny at the door wearing panties and a smile were over, at least for a while. Almost viciously, she flung the small car through the streets of Berkeley, headed back to Oakland, almost viciously because if she ever needed an interlude with the Gunny, now was the time.

Orientation at school was one thing, and her classes looked challenging. Orientation with the NROTC cadre and the upperclass Midshipmen was stressful, pure and simple. They had as good as told her that she would need to display qualities that set her apart from the rest of the Midshipman Battalion.

She'd shown up with a gaggle of high-school graduates, and walked through the day with them. She heard about her obligations to the Navy (summarized in one word: graduate!). She'd learned about her obligations to the NROTC program, and heard about CORTRAMID and other activities that she wouldn't have to participate in, being a Junior (and thus Second Class as far as the Navy was concerned). Thursdays, she'd have Leadership Lab for the afternoon – the first was tomorrow – and she would have some weekend drills, and some other formations. Two days a week (Tuesday and Thursday) were to be Uniform days, where she'd wear her Officer-type Uniform, with the single gold star for rank, plus the brevet insignia for the Midshipman rank she'd earn in the Battalion. The worst part of the day was waiting while the upperclassmen showed the incoming Midshipmen how to salute and stand at attention.

The information kept flowing, though most of it was in a handbook she'd gotten, along with several other mimeographed sheets of paper. Lenore was grateful she'd carried a binder with pocket-folders in it. She resolved to always carry a pad and pen with her, since she could expect to be told something or given a detail at any time.

Fortunately, she was not unique in memory, there had been other transferees and latecomers to the program, some of whom were prior-Enlisted also. Lenore was not forging new territory, for which she was profoundly grateful.

She'd been asked if she wanted to join the Color Guard or the Drill Platoon, and she'd run into the first of her rocks and shoals with her answer.

"I'm an Officer Candidate, still on Active Duty, sir," she said, "while I attend school. I have unspecified duties that may keep me from participating." This had led to a discussion amongst the First Classmen, whereafter she was informed that her story would be verified, and that, while not required, participation in such activities was strongly encouraged. Lenore had cheerfully handed over the ID card CDR (Commander) Fales had sent Federal Express, and had regretted it shortly afterward when she realized just how different that made her. Different, in Lenore's thinking, now meant things like 'untrusted' and 'watched', though she could not see what else she could have done, except keep quiet when offered opportunities to join extracurricular activities.

After that, for the rest of the day, Lenore felt as if she were watched covertly. See the different one, wonder if she's for real, the undercurrent seemed to be. Gritting her teeth, she resolved to simply take notes and keep her military bearing.

At least, the Gunny's (and PO Dillon's) drill sessions had her more able to stand in formation and perform the movements expected of her better than the other incoming Midshipmen. "Dress right, dress" sounded different than the way the Gunny said it (he said it more like "Dress-ight, Hess!"), but Lenore figured it out in time to make her movements snappy. This went, she felt, a long way toward bolstering her status as prior-Enlisted.

Finally, the first day was over, and Lenore shut the car off in the familiar driveway off Arthur Street, and leaned her head on the steering wheel for a moment. This is what you wanted, she told herself, and you have the strength and character to do it. With that, she put a smile on her face, and left the car, putting her uniform cap on for the short walk to the door.

When she opened the door, at thirty-six minutes past the hour, the Gunny was waiting for her with a glass of wine, and a towel on his arm, wearing only his boxers.

Later, the Gunny began massaging her shoulders. Lenore groaned. "I'm relaxed, Gunny, very, very relaxed."

"Okay, tell me about it."

"You won't think less of me if I tell you everything, Gunny? I'm not supposed to take it all stoically, am I?"