Journal of an Underachiever – Early Days USAFA

On the third of June this year I had back surgery. I had a piece of bone removed from the bottom three of my lumbar vertebrae to make more room for my spinal nerve. The procedure is called a laminectomy and is probably the least invasive of backbone surgery. I’ve just about returned to normal now, but the recovery period slowed me down mentally. I’m told the residual effect of anesthesia can last for several days, and that may have had something to do with it. Whatever the reason, I used that as an excuse to not work on my blog or my next book. Now I’m functioning mentally like I was before the operation, so I still have that excuse, but I’m getting back to work anyway.

Checking in at the Academy was a whirlwind of activity, but frankly, it was almost sixty years ago, and I only have vague recollections. To sign in we had to show who we were. I think that was primarily by birth certificate. We were issued fatigues, combat boots, and a bunch of other items. We also got individual copies of Contrails and started memorizing its contents. We got our hair cut. We learned the acceptable responses: “Yes sir. No sir. No excuse sir. Sir, I do not know.” And we met our Air Training Officers (ATOs), First and Second Lieutenants who served as our upperclassmen for the first summer.

One of the few funny things that day happened during our introduction to marching. I was so uptight that I couldn’t remember which arm went forward with which leg. I actually had to ask, and on that day and many more a question had to start with “Sir, may I ask a question?” I know, it’s sort of an oxymoron, but it was the only acceptable unbidden question.

What made it funny (no one laughed) was that the ATO I asked couldn’t answer it. He, as we all do, walked by habit and didn’t think about which hand went with which leg – until asked. Fortunately, I kept a straight face through the incident – I was too scared to do otherwise, and eventually I was marching.

We were immediately introduced to how our rooms were supposed to be kept: beds made with perfect forty five degree corners, clothing in our drawers neatly folded and in the specified locations, shoes shined till they reflected our image (spit shines), everything in the room dust free, including the top of the door frame. We had reveille at “Oh Dark Thirty” as it was, but to get our clothes and room ready for the morning inspection we were advised unofficially to get up at four and go to work. It was unofficial because we were supposed to be in bed, and couldn’t be told to get up before reveille. In fact, if we were caught out of bed before reveille, we earned demerits, which I had a special talent for.

The meals were something else. As “doolies” we were required to eat at attention, back straight, chin tucked in (that was one of the interesting things about being at attention. I think it was primarily to teach us to keep our heads up straight but it was a de facto deliberate annoyance), arms at our sides when we weren’t using our hands, and feet flat on the floor. While we were eating, we were subject to questioning by the ATOs, stuff out of Contrails that we were supposed to learn by rote and answer with immediately. The one good thing about mealtime was that if we hadn’t finished eating by the time the meals were dismissed, we got to stay and finish – still at attention, but undisturbed.

Toward the end of summer we had a surprise event. One of the hard-ass ATO’s, Lt. Pedjoe, headed up an after-hours pizza party for all of us in the squadron who had gotten that far. We actually got to relax with the men who had been harassing us for weeks – knowing, of course that everything went back to normal in the morning. I assume that all the squadrons did the same. It gave me a different point of view about the ATO’s. I had known it was their job to keep us on our toes, but after that I knew their attitudes were part of the act (It didn’t mean we could cross the line, but we could view them as fellow humans).

I think that’s enough for now. It doesn’t quite cover all of that first summer, but there’s enough to make another entry for next time.

On another note, I’m trying to collect meaningful and/or ridiculous quotations by people who would not normally be quoted. If you see, hear, or say anything profound, self-contradictory, or on after thought just plain funny, send it to me along with whom to attribute it to ­– that can be that world famous sage, Anonymous, or his cohort, Author Unknown.