Not the Same #8 Day One as a Rainbow

The Marine Corps’ slogan said they looked for a few good men, the Air Force, otherwise, said they looked for a lot of good men. Well, Kirk was, in theory, a good man.

Cue: “New Horizons” https://youtu.be/iF2__-K8qFo?si=KCVeSMXkYcOMG1nI

 

Even though the United States Military had become an all-volunteer force didn’t mean the Basic Military Training Instructors (BMTI) had gotten any kinder or gentler since the Viet Nam Era.

Kirk had been inserted into the Air Force Flight late the night before with three others because of the weather, and as a result, missed out on many of the mind games the TIs put the rest of the trainees through. The flight was the single, cohesive unit of the Air Force, but it remained every man for himself when it came to making it through basic training. Now after that precipitous major decision on his part a couple months ago, he had become just one unremarkable member of the 3704 Basic Military Training Squadron (BMTS), Flight 0293. 

 

Kirk hovered between states of consciousness after his deep sleep. My bed doesn’t feel right. And then, he reacted with a jolt in sudden realization. This isn’t my bed! His mental acuity quickly came to him as he took in and recalled his highly singular situation.

The Air Force Basic Training barracks, he was there. Without moving, he eyed around at the two lengthy rows of single bunks each with a lump of a recruit lying within. Kirk saw a couple of the forms moving under the covers, and he thought he detected whispering, but wasn’t sure.  He eyed over to the bank of windows in the direction of his feet and saw that outside remained completely dark with stars aglow while only the glow of the streetlights shone in the windows giving the barracks a pale twilit illumination. He looked around not seeing a clock and of course, he hadn’t pulled his alarm clock out of his bag that lay there beside the bunk. He knew his clothes lay in a heap atop the bag.

A scratching or perhaps a slight mechanical sound came from the other side of the wall next to Kirk. He stirred as did a couple other recruits. A click and a sudden FWEEEEEEEEET! Assaulted their ears. Most of the inclined forms sat up, swinging their feet out from their warm bunks.

“All right rainbow flight, wake up!” Shouted the MTI. Coming around the corner, they all heard a rhythmic clack like a mechanical clock that all trainees learned early on to either fear or to respect. Sounding with every step the TI took stemmed from the steel cleats on the heels of his spit-shined boots. “Trainees, you are under me now, my control. I tell you what, when, and where to do everything in your life from now on in this training facility.” He gazed about at the skivvy clothed, drowsy trainees. “NOW! Stand up, and listen up. You have all of ten minutes to get your morning personal duty completed. This includes getting rid of that facial hair. No beards, no ‘staches, no whiskers. NOW! Get it done and put those rainbow civilian clothes on.”

Kirk found himself closest to the latrine (restroom). Without thinking, really, he grabbed his shaving kit and being one of the first in front of a mirror took care of his shaving which was probably the fastest shave ever with only a little bleeding on his chin. He wasn’t the first out of the latrine but was done before the majority of the recruits. He pulled on the same clothes he had on yesterday. He noticed Staff Sergeant Stone, the TI, mid-barracks seemingly satisfied with watching the chaos unfold. As the others made their way back, Kirk pulled his bag together. He started to make his bed, but the TI said calmly in his direction and pointed, “Trainee. Don’t bother making your rack.”

The time had gone fast. The TI gave no other notice but, “Ten seconds remain. Get your butts in here. Stand at the foot of your beds. 10, 9, 8, 7,6,” he shouted as the few remaining recruits scrambled from the latrine and jostled to get into place. “5, 4, 3,2, 1 Everyone ATTENTION! YOU little one down there get in place however you are!”

Kirk didn’t turn his head but utilizing his excellent peripheral vision saw the little blond kid still in his underwear jumping into place at the foot of his bed. One other recruit had a t-shirt on but no pants. The TI strolled down the line. His heel cleats: click, click, click, click.

“What a motley bunch of trainees I have to deal with in this flight. Never have I seen such a sloppy bunch of louts. Well, I’m here to try my best to make proper airmen out of you, so listen up.” Pausing walking down the aisle, click, click, click. “You either work hard, stick with me through your training to become an United States Airman, or I get rid of you if you can’t take it, whine about life as a trainee or screw up too much. As I warned you recruits who came in on time yesterday, you’ll be issued Air Force Form 341s. These you carry on your person at all times and are used to record any screw up, discrepancy, or failure to follow orders. Get your limit of 341s and you’ll be washed back, back a week to a later flight and you get an extra bonus week of training. Understand? I said, do you UNDERSTAND?”

“YES, SIR!” the flight more or less shouted together.   

“Lesson one. See if you can learn it. Your mamas aren’t here so every morning, you make your bed, tight and tidy with forty-five-degree, hospital corners. At ease, gather round.”

 “Get this right because I’m showing you just once. Get it right and tight!”

The TI tore the sheet and blanket off a bunk and demonstrated how to make a bed, neat and perfect. Kirk watched closely but nervously wondered if he could do it right and tight as required.

“NOW! Make up your racks!”

The flight scrambled into action. Kirk felt his heart pound and vision narrow. He replayed the TI’s demonstration frame by frame in his mind. As he pulled the corners into place his fingers trembled. He glanced about at the others to see if his measured up.

“Get it done, rainbows. This will be a daily requirement that I’ll inspect everyday so get it right now. You have one minute to finish.”

He strolled down the center aisle, click, click, click, scanning right and left as Kirk fumbled with his blanket at the head getting the pillow, as thin as it was, in correctly.

“Times up,” he called from the other end. Form up at the foot at attention, I’m inspecting your beds. No speaking, make no attempt to correct your bed making.”

He started at the far end, kind of to Kirk’s relief. Without a word, the TI started down the line. He tugged at a couple beds, then all of sudden he heaved a bed over the side into a heap. A couple guys reacted physically in fear. Kirk held steady. A couple more beds passed the TI’s scrutiny and then without warning flipped over another bed into a pile. Kirk thought the small blond guy wearing his skivvies might have been crying.

“Unacceptable!”

The TI came to the end opposite Kirk’s space. Kirk held his breath and tried his best to remain at perfect attention. The TI eyed him, but said nothing and Kirk didn’t react. He couldn’t see what the TI did to his bunk, but he didn’t hear the swish, thump of his bed being dumped over. Without looking, he thought he was safe. Suddenly, the swish and thump came and Kirk’s blood ran cold. He sweated, his heart raced. What did I do wrong? He heard the TI’s clicks further down the line.

“At ease!” Kirk looked back and to his relief that the bunk next to his lay in a pile. As the TI paced down the row with hands clasped behind his back came closer to Kirk’s end, he turned about face. “All you trainees! Seeing some of you can’t figure out how to make up their bunks, dump over your bunks and make them again.” He paused.” Don’t gape at me! Do it!”

Kirk could see all the guys wear expressions that he felt like we were lucky to get it right the first time, so we have to pay for the other’s inability to get it right? Like everyone, except those who already had their beds dumped over, Kirk dumped his mattress over in a heap. He let out a sigh as he quickly gathered it up and shoved the mattress back onto the frame. Pulling the sheet and the blanket over, straightening it out and getting the corners just right, he glanced about. His fellow trainees were all making beds at a frantic pace and getting a chance to look around he saw a guy helping the little blond guy get his bed together. From Kirk’s vantage point the little young guy just looked completely shell-shocked standing there half naked in his underwear.

The TI paced back and forth without giving encouragement, approval or condemnation as he went, but then again, he didn’t grab any bunks and flip them over either. He gave them another minute.

“Trainees! Listen up! Every morning I’ll announce the uniform of the day depending on the factors of the day.“ He scanned down the lines to see if the trainees listened. “Today’s uniform is your own rainbow clothes with a light jacket or sweatshirt. It is cool this morning. Two minutes. Form up downstairs. Jump to it!”

Kirk rustled through his bag and drew out his denim jacket and donned it. He awkwardly realized that he didn’t put his boots on yet. He pulled them on and stood ready. A couple guys with buzzed haircuts already and plausibly a military demeanor, Kirk would label as “Gung-ho” recruits trotted out the door on the TI’s heels. Kirk, even though eager to do as instructed as fast and correctly as possible, he tried to reason out a successful strategy in basic training as Technical Sergeant Shaw had suggested back home. That said was: Keep your head down, don’t be singular in any way to stand out, pay attention, become one with the flight.

 After several average fellow trainees headed out, Kirk mixed into the flow and followed them down into the dimly lit patio that he recalled from the night before. Of course, it still being dark, he noticed the other training buildings lit up the same as theirs. On the far end of their squadron patio, a flight had already formed up, all in fatigue uniforms and looking precise in their facing movements. Will my flight look like that some day? Kirk had his doubts, unable to grasp the possible positive change from the present rag tag civilians he lined up with.  

As the rest of Kirk’s rainbow flight showed up, the TI ordered up, “Fall in! Four ranks. This means toes on the line at attention at forty-five degree angle. Your heels firmly together, arms tight at sides with hands in soft fists. Chin up, chest out, stomach in, eyes front. Listen for my commands.” The TI stepped down the forward line click, click, click seemed louder with the concrete floor and echoey patio. Kirk suddenly recalled his brief stint with the high school marching band. He didn’t recall much in details, but maybe it’d help him now, memory muscle and all that. Perhaps…

But then again, maybe not. “Trainees! You must form up properly every single time precisely and smartly, this means you must always upon forming up, cover and dress. First, you must get in alignment with others. This is interval. All of you, extend your left arm. Touch the shoulder of the trainee next to you. Those on the ends stand fast and don’t lift your arms, you bozo! If you’re too close, those to the left must shift to the left. Now cover! Extend your left arms fingertips touching the next trainee’.” Seeing they had formed up in no particular alignment, there was a whole lot of jostling and shifting the line.

“Trainees! Come on! Get it done! When at the right distance drop your arms.” Kirk thought they looked a bit more organized into lines. “On the dress command, without turning your heads, align down your rank from right to left. Don’t rely on the lines on the ground because you will form up everywhere where there are no lines. Dress!”

Again, there was a pitter-patter of small steps of the trainees getting into position. In Kirk’s excellent peripheral vision, he saw the trainees right and left and adjusted himself with tiny movements.  

“We’ll practice that several times a day, but for now, listen up! If you are taller than the trainee in front of you tap them on the shoulder and take their place. The trainee replaced fills the space behind.” Kirk stood six feet even. He tapped the shorter trainee in front of him and stepped into place.

The TI scanned the trainees. “For you four-night stragglers (Meaning Kirk and his three recruits.) All facing movements are two counts a preparatory command and execution. For a Right Face command, on the preparatory command RIGHT raise the left heel and right toe. On the execution command which is FACE pivot 90 degrees on right heel and bring the left foot smartly to the right.” Kirk’s anxiousness rose a couple degrees. “RIGHT! You should be ready to execute.” Kirk, out of the corner of his eye, saw a couple guys lose their balance. “YOU TWO IN THE SECOND RANK, DO YOU FEEL A LITTLE DUMB? GET IT TOGETHER I didn’t give you the execution command, match your trainees. FACE!”

          The flight awkwardly performed the movement. Kirk thought he had it. “LISTEN UP! RIGHT!” the sound of feet moving was all that Kirk heard. FACE!” The flight more or less did it together. Again, “RIGHT! FACE” He paused. “RIGHT! FACE!” and they were facing forward again. “Trainees, now do it with snap and precision. RIGHT! FACE! If you are taller than the trainee in front of you tap him and replace him.

Again, Kirk moved one place hoping he wasn’t the tallest and ending up in the front rank or on the end. They pivoted about until they faced the TI. Kirk thought they moved nowhere close to the way the other more advanced flight moved that he had witnessed earlier in the patio.

          “Dress and Cover!” The TI loudly commanded.

          Some of the trainees seemed to forget how to perform the command already, but Kirk along with most of the flight snapped his arm up and pushed on the trainee’s shoulder a bit until just his fingertips touched and wiggled a bit to make a straight line.

          “Listen to the command and perform it you who screwed up. This formation command should take you seconds to learn and complete.”   

          Continuing on, they performed the left face more or less acceptably for the first day and then, the about face movement which transpired with a bit more difficultly. For about face, Kirk and his flight had to place the right toe behind the left on predatory, and on execution pivoting 180 degrees on the left heel and supposedly bringing the right heel into the left.

What a mess! Kirk didn’t quite make it 180 degrees, but he thought better performed than the two guys who he caught actually tripping and stepping out of rank to catch themselves from falling. After several, more like numerous, times they as a flight were making the pivot but still lacked much on the movement especially required for a military marching unit. The TI went on about performing the facing movements using the crisp responses when the commands are given. He went on about how they’d practice this everyday until the flight got it right and they are able to do everything perfectly smooth with snap and precision.

Kirk wondered how the Tis had enough patience to be able to do this early repetitive and simple training instruction without completely losing their cool! Mind wandering, Kirk noticed twilight forming on the horizon that first early morning. He knew there’d be six and half weeks more of early mornings and how many more after that? Four years! He snapped back to the TI continuing in other facing movements and Kirk missed the command.

          Kirk caught the TI voicing “PARADE�"REST!” Kirk sloppily followed the rest of the flight because his mind had wandered. Right foot planted, left foot moved to the left twelve inches (more or less) by these rookies including Kirk with hands placed flat behind with thumbs interlocked right in left. Probably the easiest and simplest facing movement which wasn’t really a movement per se he found was at ease. This might be the favorite of all military units when practicing marching commands because they can relax. On the command of “AT EASE” in one count, personnel keep their right foot planted, but they can twist about on their left foot to relax their bodies from strict stiff attention but still must remain silent.  

          After practicing movements countless of times, Kirk saw the first blinks of the sun peeking over the horizon casting long, long shadows across the open areas between the basic training barracks or the updated 1970’s designation of dormitories. With a little more instruction about forming up on the guidon, the shortest guy in the flight by the way, who carried the flag indicating their squadron and flight designations. The TI told the flight that in their sorry state of movements they must stay focused on the guidon and adjust accordingly as they proceed through the basic training boot camp. 

          With a collective silent gasp from the flight, the TI went through the instructions for actual marching. Telling them that they must step off on their left foot, not the right as some would figure, but actually push forward on the right. So, on “forward” they shift weight onto the right leg and on “march” they step smartly off on the left. To stop, the commands are “flight” and then “halt” and after another step, stop at attention. Kirk and he was sure everyone else in the flight were getting overwhelmed and saturated with facing and movement commands. 

          The TI called out, “AT EASE.” Then he announced: “Smoke ‘em if you got ‘em. You trainees with smokes over there,” he pointed, “five minutes, you other trainees remain at ease.”

          Kirk thought that this rule seemed rather unfair, but what could he do other than to take up smoking? He thought back on his first year of racing when he tried smoking and disliked it immensely. He decidedly guessed he’d hang out at ease with about half the other remaining non-smoking guys in his flight because, of course, he couldn’t just wander away...  

          With the sun fully up now and unable to do anything but think, Kirk had some time for inner reflection. He had no idea on how long they, the flight, had been at the facing movements, but he decidedly felt hungry. He’ll miss his bowl of Life cereal while lingering at the farmhouse kitchen table.

          Soon enough, the TI called the smokers time up and gave them all a “fall in” along with a “dress and cover.” Most of the trainees knew what to do and those who didn’t remember (already) followed the lead of the others. With a quick reminder and ever so slight encouragement from the TI, he announced they’d begin marching. Kirk for some reason thought that the leading foot should be the right, but he commanded himself that his left would go first. And so it began with a “FORWARD, MARCH.”

 

Yep,  as we expected, Kirk stepped off with his right foot. He wasn’t the only one and the TI, always closely observing called them “lunkheads, step off with the left foot. Get it correct, now listen, left, right, left right.” He called out.

Kirk quickly got back into step, but he could see the bouncing and hear the shuffling of those who still tried to get into step. So, following the little trainee who was the guidon, they made it down the wide sidewalk and down onto the street. And they were off, more or less a marching unit with Kirk’s view amid the flight still showing a lot of bobbing heads. And they headed down the street, where Kirk saw other flights doing various movements or one unit a little farther off in shorts and white t-shirts running on a track.

Kirk knew where they were headed before they got there as most likely other trainees had as well. A large but low flat building lay ahead from which Kirk could smell the aroma of breakfast emitting. He thought of the eggs, potatoes, bacon, and sausage they probably served up inside, but he wasn’t sure how that would take place. They halted outside on a flat paved area that Kirk assumed must be an area of flight formation. Flights with trainees dressed in fatigues came and went from the chow hall, mess hall or the contemporary Air Force designation of dining facility. Apparently later, Kirk discovered the Air Force was still in the process of deviating from the Army since 1947 when the Air Force had become a separate entity. Kirk spotted another rainbow flight marching past though he thought they looked more together than his flight. Well, just a few hours of introduction to marching does not make the marcher.

Ah, even though they didn’t have uniforms yet, they had buzz haircuts. A bit, maybe a day along further then my flight.

With the flight standing at attention, the TI gave the rundown for eating at the Dining Facility.  They were told that silence had to be maintained, no talking nor laughing. They were to maintain military bearing and discipline as other TIs along with himself would be observing. They were to eat quickly and efficiently because their time would be limited.

Kirk remained relieved that as they went into the chow hall single file he was in the middle of his flight so he didn’t have to set an example, figure things out as they went, and could remain, more or less, incognito in the mass of trainees. The chow hall, or whatever was proper to call it, remained deathly quiet with only the multitude clicks and chinks of silverware and chinaware. He noticed an outwardly harassed two-striper airman working along with civilian so-called lunch ladies who all appeared as under duress as the trainees, but got the job done efficiently quick. Kirk, being the day one trainee, didn’t even know what they called a two-striper, but from the looks of him and the setting in the chow hall, he held a job, a culinary AFSC that Kirk could never imagine coveting.

Kirk recalled that Sarah Elizabeth’s father had warned Kirk about KP (Kitchen Police) duty where young enlistees (Army in her father’s case) had to help peel potatoes or perform other mundane food preparation duties. Kirk hoped the Air Force didn’t order trainees to do that sort of duty.

Heading through the serving line, which moved surprisingly fast, Kirk picked up that for hot foods you needed to be prepared at your turn to point at what you wanted and he got it fast: Potatoes, sausage, and pancakes. Remember Kirk could never tolerate eggs in any manner and the big vat of grits didn’t look any better than he recalled when he had tried them and thought they seemed like sandy grit in goo. He grabbed a glass of milk and a cup of coffee which sure didn’t smell like the comforting Nescafe of home.

Seeing he didn’t know or recognize any of his fellow trainees, he happened upon noticing his guidon with the flag’s confirmation of 3704 BMTS and Flt 0293 reassuring him he came to the right place. Finding a spot and sitting down, he decided coffee as his first priority while eying up the others eating rather quickly but politely and precisely. He followed suit. As those around him dwindled in numbers, he gave up trying to eat everything on his plate, threw back his coffee and carried his tray and equipment to the entrance of the scullery machine where he cleaned his plate and stacked it and his tray.  

Outside, Kirk followed his other flight trainees, even though he didn’t recognize anyone or know their names but where their TI stood. Kirk was again annoyed that the smokers were allowed another break while he and the non-smokers had to remain, more or less, in formation. He wasn’t about to start smoking.

It wasn’t long before the TI cut the smokers short and the flight formed up with “dress and cover” which appeared to happen a bit more efficiently than before. So, the rainbow flight skipped and bounced down the street, some of the trainees seemingly not knowing their right foot from their left while trying  unsuccessfully to synchronize with the TI calling the march.    

Heading into another building, not a dormitory or barracks as you prefer, they quickly figured out what was to happen here�"first, in a word: Haircuts. Not that you would call them haircuts they were more a scalping. With four barbers doing the chopping deed and someone sweeping up the heaps of hair and disposing it. The experience, even though singular, didn’t last long. When Kirk’s turn came up, the barber flipped out the cape with a flourish having done it hundreds of time, wrapped it around Kirk’s neck and fired up the clippers. Buzz, buzz, buzz and a little more carefully around the ears so they weren’t chopped off and just like that the dirty deed was over and done in two minutes flat. Kirk glanced at his hair falling to the floor. Like all trainees for decades, the first thing Kirk did was to run his hand across his stubbly scalp. Scalped indeed.

Most of the day became a blur in recollection. A photograph taken similar to a police lineup for ID cards Kirk was told. They went on to get weighed and measured, then given their records from induction screening, they got some more examination, some prodding, a little blood sucking and a few “special” immunizations. Onward, a team of women sized up each trainee by eye for their uniform sizes, verified personal names for tags, and other equipment issues writing down the information for each trainee’s requirement. Having gone through probably thousands of trainees all the workers had the procedure down pat. Of course, all the stations were punctuated by quality Air Force hurry up and waiting so time dragged on.

After a lunch that Kirk appreciated thinking that he enjoyed chow hall foodstuffs considering some beforehand negative mentions on the food matters. Time would tell on that sticky subject. Kirk had also overheard whispers among his fellow trainees that added saltpeter to their food discouraged the male sexual urges. Well, he thought there wasn’t a desirable female ever in sight even though he knew there were women-only flights as well at Lackland. On a side note, still assigning separate official titles for women in the Air Force in 1975, they were still considered WAFs by many at this time; though, the designation was more and more discouraged by the next year to grant them full equality to their male counterparts, that is, using their rank titles of Airmen and NCOs.

Anyway, all formed up and marching down the street they approached a large auditorium appearing building. He saw, out of the corner of his eye, another rainbow flight heading in their direction. The flight went inside and formed up with the almost natural “dress and cover” though still remained a bit sloppy as they faced a podium. Placed in parade rest, they waited as two other flights formed up beside theirs and so there ended up two male rainbow flights and one female rainbow flight and one male flight with fatigues on.

Stepping to the podium in smart movements a senior NCO made an announcement and had the flights come to attention as the 3704^th BMTS Commander stepped to the podium. 

He welcomed the trainees to Lackland Air Force Base, the Gateway to the Air Force. He told the trainees that they were embarking on six and half weeks of intense training that would test their mental and physical capabilities to possible limits. Kirk took all what he said with keen interest. The commander stressed the Air Force Core Values to be instilled in each of the trainees of personal integrity, service to country, and excellence in all they performed. He emphasized their utmost discipline and the maintenance of Air Force standards of conduct, uniform and personal grooming that were hallmarks of a superior fighting force and would be strictly required at all times during basic training and beyond as they moved on into the Air Force. Scanning the young faces of the trainees, he ended with that within this group of flights comprised the future Air Force NCOs, supervisors, and managers. Do well and go forward. Aim high with the United States Air Force.

Skeptical as a parttime non-conformist, Kirk wasn’t buying it. Perhaps, he thought, some of the obviously gung-ho trainees I noticed might be future career Air Force, but I joined up for a job and hopefully, a new skill. Besides I can’t see myself as a supervisor or NCO because of my little experience with supervising the other three trainees that didn’t seem so natural to me. Four years will be enough I’m sure because I can’t see myself like these stiff sergeants I’ve met like my recruiter and the TIs. For now and basic, I’ll keep my head down and do my best, just the same.

One by one the flights marched out of the auditorium. Kirk’s flight made their way to a classroom led by, if he recalled correctly, a technical sergeant. He reiterated some of what the commander said about maintaining personal standards, discipline and respect of rank for the NCOs and officers appointed over them. He went on about chains of command and how it must be maintained at all times.

Moving on, he touched upon aspects of the trainees’ six and half weeks where they’ll perform physical training and mental training in various ways including pointing out weapon use and chemical gear preparation. Kirk knew about M-16 shooting, but chemical attacks was not something he looked forward to. The sergeant also covered each trainee’s responsibility for his own morale, health, and well-being including grooming and if so desired religious worship. The Technical sergeant said all those areas will be presented in-depth throughout their training.

Upon finish, small pocket-sized guides were passed out to the trainees with the advice to study them in detail whenever they find free time. From what Kirk witnessed so far and what they had been warned was waiting for them in the coming days and weeks, he didn’t see them ever having free time.  As the afternoon waned, the trainees were all given postcards to send home. As explained and the card allowed, the trainees were to fill out their names, squadron, and flight address so that whoever they designated could send mail to their favorite trainee. Kirk thought a moment and addressed it to Sarah Elizabeth. He signed the bottom that stated that he had arrived and begun United States Air Force Training. The trainees were informed that, during personal time in the future days, they would be allowed a telephone call back home.

During a later smoke break, as Kirk stood in formation at ease, he had the notion to peruse his trainee guide. It covered in printed detail some of the topics he had heard in briefings such as the Airman’s Creed, Air Force Core values, Air Force Code of Conduct, General Orders of a Sentry, which Kirk thought couldn’t apply to him because he thought he’d never be a sentry (boy, he was wrong) and what caught his eye was the phonetic alphabet of which he knew a little: alpha, bravo, charlie and after that not so much! In the little time he had remaining, he checked out the pictures specifically pictures of the Air Force rank structure showing enlisted stripes and rank insignia for officers. What caught his eye first in the enlisted structure was that he, as an Airman Basic wore no stripes. Maybe he knew it beforehand, but he hadn’t thought about it until that moment but just that page, when he had time to study it, would answer some of his questions about the number of enlisted stripes and officer insignia versus their titles. He found out that as an enlistee, he would have to salute anyone who had a shiny insignia on their uniforms. Simple, easy to remember!

The first day, did in fact, turned out to be jammed with so many Air Force tasks and information unimaginable before arriving there at basic training. So much was thrown at the trainees and Kirk on that first day, it passed by in a blur. What stuck, it was hard to say.

As the sun set, all the mentally and physically exhausted guys in the flight were finally released to collapse and bed down for the night. Beyond any doubt, in only one jam-packed day, Kirk’s far-flung existence had abruptly transformed him from small town farm boy, grease monkey, and stock car racer to military trainee.  

So, on that first day as a rainbow Air Force trainee, Kirk hit his bunk and fell straight asleep without even considering that he was not the same Kirk that he had been just the day before, but then, he had many days and weeks lying ahead. What more could he be exposed to and taught in those following weeks and how it change Kirk?

 

 

  

Author's Note

Just to remind readers, this account is my experience as I remember and adding some internet research as well. If you went through this experience, I'm sure it was different in many ways. Thanks for reading!

Reviews

[Mila]

How is this SO good??I devoured this in one sitting.