Six months ago I wrote a farewell to the Kossack community, a sort of thank-you for keeping me informed during the election and for inspiring me to do something great. I thought a couple of people would read it and think, "There goes someone we can be proud of." Instead I got a huge response, some good advice and a lot of love. I also got a few requests to keep writing, "from the inside". So here I am, sitting in my new Navy approved and funded apartment (Thank you!) and trying to put my thoughts together. It’s too much for one journal so I’m going to try to do one a week until I catch up, starting with...
Boot Camp
You try to prepare yourself for basic training by hitting the gym and reading some internet stories, talking to your recruiter and anyone else you can find that’s already been through it. There are a couple of horror stories but most people agree it’s worth the trouble and that if you just do what you’re told and keep your head down you’ll make it to the other side. Of course a lot of people are lying to you (especially your recruiter) and two weeks isn’t going to make a whole lot of difference. It turns out that the training program varies so much from one instructor to another that at the end of the day it’s just a craps shoot.
And wouldn’t you know it, snake eyes.
When you get to the Navy’s training facility (they closed the ones in San Diego and Pensacola, so from now on it’s just sunny Chicago!) you’ve been up for about 18 hours, but you’ve got another 20 to go before your first sleep so it’s a good thing someone is yelling at you the whole time. They take your clothes and issue you some killer sweats, toiletries and a haircut. According to the letter they send to parents, "Your son or daughter will get a haircut, but they’re not getting their head shaved." My good friend W put it best: "Funny, because where I’m from that’s called a scalping."
It is just an enormous game though, and even if you can’t hear the other rats scurrying around the maze there are plenty of clue. Like the canned responses. If someone says "Sorry Petty Officer" the Petty Officer answers, "Oh, so now I’m a sorry Petty Officer?!" You say "Excuse me" they say "There’s no excuse for you." "Thank you" = "Don’t thank me, thank your recruiter." Right. FOX News has got nothing on these guys.
The other tip-off is the phrase "Attention to Detail." I don’t know about the other services but the Navy likes to stress that making even the smallest deviating from instructions will potentially sink your ship and kill all hands on board. Therefore you must fold your underwear just so. If it were true though, I suspect that the training manual wouldn’t include the little gem about the Navy’s involvement in the D-Day invasion of Norway. There’s no point in fighting it but feigning emotional involvement in the creases on pants or the shine on boots leaves one feeling a bit cheap.
Mind games notwithstanding, I quickly realized that the key to success in basic training is not to keep your head down but simply to not be the dumbest person in the room at any time (unless of course everyone else in the room outranks you). At first this was really difficult for me, not because I’m used to being the dumbest person in the room, but because I couldn’t quite believe just how low the lowest common denominator could get. In the end, "lowest common denominator" is probably the best explanation for a lot of the things that happen at basic training, like a class on how to open a bank account, or hours spent teaching people to march in step. Come to think of it, LCD still plays a very prominent role in my daily life, followed closely by WTF.
It is probably for this reason that I was made Yeoman for my division inside of three days. For the uninitiated, the Yeoman is responsible for all of the record keeping in a division. Take 80 people, give them each five pages of forms to date and sign, then sit back and watch the magic happen. Every time a recruit goes to sick call, you get to pull their file, give it three stamps, write an explanation, sign it and get it counter signed by the recruit in question. The system is slightly less sophisticated than the one used by, say, every public library in the country, but I’m not complaining because when the rest of my division was being punished I always had forms to stamp.
Amusing anecdote: We have three people in charge of us, and one of my friends is accused of having a favorite. They ask him to imagine there’s a dirty bomb and he has three radiation suits, then they ask him which of the three he’s going to save. Despite a valiant effort ("I’d give them all to you because I’m the lowest ranking") they cornered him and he had to chose which one he would hypothetically let die. That particular Petty Officer rode his ass for the next three days. I was in the room, so Chief turns to me and says, "What about you Yeoman, who would you give the three suits to?" I answer, "I’d take one for myself and cut holes in the other two Chief." "WHAT?! What the hell makes you so important!?" "Well Chief," I say, without looking up from my desk, "I’ve got the stamps." STAMP. Dramatic pause. "F*&% you Yeoman." "Aye-aye Chief."
There were surreal moments too, like trying to explain to three Black chiefs why the term "shylock" was a faux pas in any official Navy training video. The person doing my background interview could not get her head around the idea that I didn’t have a mailing address whilst backpacking around Europe for six months. I guess what I really wasn’t prepared for was that every moment of every day was supervised and controlled, although not necessarily put to good use. I also, for reasons that are still a mystery to me, brought out the worst in one of my supervisors and she took every opportunity to make my life unpleasant. It sucks when your boss doesn’t like you, especially when your boss knows where you sleep and has the right to wake you up so she can review your paperwork. Le sigh.
There were (there still are) moments of doubt. Not too many because I was so busy, but sometimes lying in my bunk at night I’d wonder if I had joined for the right reasons. Another Kossack commented on my first diary that I was part of some poor people’s army or something because I was joining during a recession. The fact of the matter is that while I was unemployed at the time, I feel very optimistic about my prospects. And believe me, there is always a job somewhere for a qualified English teacher. I just wanted to do something a little more significant and I saw this as my chance. That said, after two months at basic training I think I’m probably the exception that proves the rule. It was eerie how many people mentioned in their files (yes I read them) the mother who raised them by herself. There are a lot of desperate people out there for whom the armed forces are a good way out, and I don’t see anything wrong with that. It does make me wonder where this term "Best and Brightest" comes from, because it certainly hasn’t visited reality. Don’t get me wrong, I work with some of the smartest people in the military, but the linguist community is a very small one.
In any case, I survived basic training with only a few minor headaches and plenty of memories that will develop a nice glaze of nostalgia over the coming years. I still have to remind myself occasionally that I’m where I am by choice, but I’ve been a Sailor at heart a lot longer than I’ve worn the uniform. It fits. Given the right circumstances I’d even be willing to repeat basic training, especially now that they’ve switched to electronic record keeping. Bastards.