Learning To Walk - A Soldier's Story by Clifford Beck - HTML preview

Chapter 14

We made it back to Granby Park with enough time that we could find a place to sit. Most of the platoon was already there, with a few stragglers catching up. We waited for the bus as people around us watched. I’m sure they’d seen uniformed recruits in the park every day. Yet, they seemed to look at us as though we were somehow out of place. We weren’t there long before the bus arrived. Its hydraulic brakes hissed as it rolled to a stop. The door opened and the D.I. stepped out holding a clipboard. He didn’t say a word, but looked at us with an expression that spoke volumes. Boarding the bus, we quickly and sat down and remained silent, mostly out of the fear of being harassed by the D.I.

He called out our names alphabetically as each of us answered ‘sir, here, sir!’ After everyone was accounted for we started back to the base. Another forty-five minutes passed as the bus made its way through the main gate and as the bus stopped in front of the barracks the D.I. ordered us to fall out into formation.

“Well,” he began.

He walked slowly through the rows of our platoon. “I don’t smell any booze, so I am assuming that none of you consumed any alcohol!”

Slowly, he continued his examination of us. “And I don’t smell any pussy on any of you, so I trust that you stayed clear of the hookers!”

This was not entirely true, but since Steve and I hadn’t actually been customers, I thought it best not to bring it up. “I hope that all of you dick heads had a good time on liberty!” he continued. “Because tomorrow, your training will continue! Tomorrow, I will drag your lazy asses through the dirt! Tomorrow, you will go on your first five-mile run! At least a few of you will puke your guts out! But, you will keep running and I don’t give a flying fuck if you’re puking on your shoes, you will not stop running! Is that clear?!”

“Sir, yes sir!” we answered.

We were marched to the mess hall and filed in for dinner.

Upon returning to the barracks, the D.I. did a surprise inspection. Anything that was less than perfect was unacceptable. Our uniforms always came back with laundry tags stuffed in the pockets. Every one of them had to be removed and if any were found on inspection, each one was a demerit. The D.I. found three among my uniforms. Steve had not been as attentive and the D.I. recovered twenty-one laundry tags from his uniforms. As a consequence, surprise inspections became more frequent.