THE OATH I can’t say that I was really prepared to go into the Coast Guard. Up to now, it had only been kind of a theoretical next step, and when YN1 Russell said “OK, raise your right hand, and repeat after me,” I was surprised at the feeling that overcame my whole and entire self. My body had never been so erect as I stood up to all of my 6’2” 162 pound lankiness, and raised my right hand as perfectly as I knew how at the time. I repeated the oath of enlistment with the deepest sincerity I had ever experienced. YN1 Russell had someone take a snapshot of me reciting the oath. “For your mom & dad,” he insists. When I reenlisted in 1984, I was nowhere near as erect, but every bit as sincere. “OK, you are now officially United States Government Property. Welcome aboard!” “Alright,” YN1 Russell continues; “Here’s what’s going to happen: Next Monday morning, I’ll come by your place and give you a ride to the airport.” As I look back, I think this is a bit odd: why didn’t my family take me to the airport? More than likely, fearing the discomfort of my mom’s infamous emotional outbursts, I forbade it. OK, so I get to Hollywood-Burbank airport, the same place that takes my dad away every week. I’m sitting in the waiting area for Pacific Southwest Airlines; “mother grinning bird,” as the commercial jingle went. I wasn’t nervous so much as I was very eager and filled with anticipation. Robert had made sure I knew all the lyrics to “Three old ladies from Canada,” apparently a must for boot camp. All the goodbyes and see ya laters had been said to all the high school pals I had left at that time. Some of those see ya laters wouldn’t happen, albeit virtually thanks to the internet, until more than 30 years later. Thanks Facebook. ALL the High School pals I’ve reconnected with through Facebook enrich my life daily. Anyway, the plane lands, and I start looking around for guys my age who are looking for wherever it was we were supposed to be looking for. Ultimately, I was on a bus with a bunch of guys headed for USCG TRACEN Alameda. Black guys, white guys, brown guys, tall, short, skinny, husky, down right fat, even. So far, this feels more like a trip to summer camp than to boot camp. The bus is kind of sad looking. It is very old, Used to be a school bus is my guess. It has a nice dark blue paint job though, and the letters U.S. Coast Guard are crisply painted in white. along both sides. “Do you know what my recruiter told me?” says one guy. “He told me that in the 5th week, they give ya a shot in the left nut. With a SQUARE needle!” “You are out of your mind,” was my contribution, “there’s no such thing.” “No. You know, it’s one of those government things they keep from the public,” he insists. “Well then, you just go ahead & worry yourself about it all you want.” Soon, another kid said something about there being a way to sneak stuff into boot camp using your butt. Another was making sure everyone was aware that the best way to get your shoes shined right was to use a lighter & melt the wax. You know, says another, legally it is considered assault if any of those tough guy a-holes lays a finger on ya. I wondered, “Where are these guys getting this stuff?” YN1 Russell had been pretty square with me about what boot camp was all about. I thought so, anyway: I would attain the best physical fitness of my life. People LOVE to yell & scream, ignore it, it’s all part of the game. I would be given very clear instructions as to how I was going to live for the next couple of months. The food will be better than I would expect. Pay attention to everything, there’s a lot of classroom work & tests, so study up. Oh, by the way, forget about sleeping for the next 8 weeks. I think I just saw someone with a fishing pole. Really? Don’t stare. Whatever you do, uh, just look away. Oh, I almost forgot: OBVIOUSLY, the answer to the question was NO. ….Next: Forming Company
Posted on: Tue, 05 Nov 2013 06:24:26 +0000
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