Sighing is never a good thing to do in Basic Training...

Seeing my nephew, Taylor, graduating from Army Basic Training in Fort Benning, Georgia reminded me of my time in Fort Benning.

It was the spring of 1989 when Bill and I signed up for the Army National Guard. My Mom kept suggesting it, but Bill and I were resistant. I guess it was because we knew it would suck and we tend to not like to do things if they suck. Besides, the thought of spending the summer of our senior year before heading to college in combat fatigues didn't really sound like a pleasant thing.

Long story short, we signed on the dotted line for the Army National Guard. We were stationed in Beatrice, Nebraska. Being from Grand Island, it was thought strange that we would join the Beatrice unit. We had never been to Beatrice in our life, but how we got recruited there is another story.

The running in joke in our Beatrice unit was that as soon as our enlistment became official, we turned to the head guy and asked, "When do we get out?"

Bill and I were part of the promotion to increase the National Guard's numbers, which was to be in the 'Buddy Platoon', which is to have a whole platoon of kids from Nebraska to be in the same platoon. I think they thought that since Basic Training was a scary place for most kids coming out of high school, it made sense that you could endure all the yelling and push ups with someone you knew. This was all well and good in theory, but since I only knew Bill, and he only knew me, it didn't really work out to our benefit, but that's another story.

The day to go to Basic Training came. We ended up on a chartered flight from Omaha to Fort Benning, Georgia. I fully expected to get off the plane and be yelled at from day one, but that didn't happen at all. We got off the plane and waited and waited and waited for a few hours until finally, we were picked up and taken to the reception area where we were to be given shots, given a hair cut, given orientation talks and given our equipment and clothing.

The clothing part was interesting to me. You see, I have a rather large head. I think if I was to have a hat size, it would be 8 1/4. We were given a duffle bag and walked down an assembly line of clothes where we were given our socks, underwear, t-shirts, and the rest of the fatigues. When it came time for the hat fitting, you had to stand in front of a man with some hats. He'd look at you, slap a hat on your head and pull it down your forehead to make sure it fight right. When it came to be my turn, he slapped the hat on me and pulled. Then he pulled some more. He started to chuckle. He grabbed another hat and tried to pull it down my forehead. He couldn't even reach the forehead. This resulted in a lot of people being shown by humongous cranium with the resulting laughter. Finally, I was fitted with two custom fit hats.

All in all, those few days there weren't bad at all. It was pretty boring for the most part. Then the day came to be tested to see if we were physically active enough to go on to Basic. I had done push ups at home, but when it came time for me to do the push ups, I faltered. My arms wobbled and felt like jelly. I don't remember how many of the 13 push ups I was supposed to do, but when I landed on the mat after the last one, all I remember was the words 'F. T. U.' being uttered by the drill sergeant testing us.

He then informed me that I was to report to the Fitness Training Unit to get in shape for Basic Training.

I said, "Thank you, Drill Sergeant" even though I was shaking.

"Never thank a Drill Sergeant", the Drill Sergeant said.

I was freaking out about being assigned to FTU. We were on a tight schedule as it was. We were supposed to start Basic on a certain day and finish up the Friday before college was starting. If I had to go to the FTU, it would delay my return and I would start college late. Plus, I would be without my brother, Bill, beside me.

I was really down. So were some of the other guys who failed. It was then that we were told the secret of getting out of the FTU. The advice given to us by a Sergeant was that when the man came to take us to the FTU, he would ask who was supposed to go to FTU. When that happens, we just don't stand up.

I was dumbfounded. That was it? Surely, there was more to it than that?

I asked, "Don't they have my name on a list?"

"No." is what I was told.

I asked more questions about this 'avoiding the FTU' strategy until finally the Sergeant said, "Will you shut up. You're starting to really piss me off." which I took as a signal that I should shut up.

The next day, I was supposed to ship off to FTU while the rest went to Basic. Sure enough, a man came and called out for people that were assigned to FTU. I instinctively started to stand up. We had all been sitting on our duffle bags. As I started to rise, some of the guys I had met whispered urgently not to stand up. So I slumped forward as if I was tying my boot. The man who called for FTU assignees went away.

I couldn't and still don't believe to this day that it was that easy. The fact that they didn't have a roster of names baffles me. Maybe they've tightened up the process since then.

In case you were wondering, I did get stronger and I did manage to pass Basic Training by passing the push up part of the fitness test.

So it was off to Basic Training...

We waited a little more. Then semi trucks pulled up hauling cattle cars. We all piled into the trucks. I was sweating already because I had mistakenly put on the winter set of uniforms. Plus I was worried that I had committed a court martial by avoiding the fitness training unit. I tried not to worry about it and settled in for a long ride.

In what seemed like barely a minute later, the truck stopped, the door opened and a not unkind voice said, "Good morning, welcome to Fort Benning, Georgia."

"YOU HAVE EXACTLY 10 SECONDS TO GET OFF OF THIS TRUCK!"

Guys started piling off the truck.

"10!"

I tried to move towards the front.

"9!"

The swell of panicking people all around me was literally taking me off of my feet.

"8! 7! 6!"

I was almost to the door!

"5! 4! Screw it! EVERYONE OFF OF THIS TRUCK RIGHT NOW!"

I hustled with my duffle bags as I hit the ground. I did not want to mess this up. I knew that all you had to do was to do something wrong or say something wrong to get in trouble in Basic. I had seen Full Metal Jacket and was using it as a reference in my head as I lumbered into position.

We were told to get into rows, which I did. It was then that we stood at attention while the drill sergeants walked up and down the rows yelling their heads off at people. They were asking where we worked before this and where we were from.

I almost burst out laughing when a kid was asked where he worked before this.

He yelled, "Hinky Dinky, Drill Sergeant."

To which the Drill Sergeant responded with "Hinky Dinky! Hinky Dinky! What in the hell is a Hinky Dinky!"

Suddenly, I had a Drill Sergeant in my face. He yelled where was I from.

I yelled, "Grand Island, Nebraska, Drill Sergeant!"

He replied, "What in the hell is in Grand Island, Nebraska!?"

I yelled, "I don't know, Drill Sergeant!"

It was all I could come up with. Thankfully, it worked. The Drill Sergeant walked away.

Finally, after what seemed like a lot of war faces, screaming, yelling and some crying, we were separated into platoons. We were to rush upstairs and wait by the locker they told us.

I got upstairs and waited.

Our Drill Sergeants came up. I was still in the 'Don't mess up' mode.

We were issued all sorts of instructions like empty our bags and then repack them. I'm a little foggy on the details, myself.

The head Drill Sergeant, which I believe was Remington, came by my bunk. He asked me a question that as of now I don't remember. I think he was asking me about my duffle bag and why all my stuff was dumped out of it. I was just thinking that I had been asked to dump it out, but didn't remember if they told me to put it all back.

Out of frustration, I sighed.

Drill Sergeant Remington paused for a second.

Then he sighed. And sighed again. And sighed a few more times.

Then he yelled, "Get down!"

I got down.

"Get up!"

I got up.

"Get down!"

Down.

"Get up!"

Up.

"Get down!"

Down

"Get up!"

A few more times of this and I'm standing at attention. Drill Sergeant Remington leaned in close to my face and instructed me to get my shit together, which I did from that moment on.

I think I sighed because I was just frustrated with how the whole experience had gone so far. I had tried to get through the day without causing trouble and had failed. I had failed my fitness test. I was wearing winter uniforms, which were causing me to sweat buckets. I had finished that up by sighing at the Drill Sergeant.

Thankfully, I got through that night and Drill Sergeant Remington and I got along well from that day on. He could have held out a grudge on me, but I think having Bill along helped. Seeing as he had twins in his platoon, he'd often grab us and introduce us to friends of his in other parts of the complex. Whenever he'd do his morning inspections of us, whenever he'd get to me or Bill, he'd turn with a stern look on his face, but he'd always break into a grin because we'd be smiling back at him, which isn't someone Full Metal Jacket recommends, but it worked for us.