Boot Camp Memories

I enlisted in the U.S. Navy in March, 1973. It was shortly before my 18th birthday, so my dad had to give permission as well. I took advantage of their DEP (Delayed Entry Program - yet another military acronym, because you can never have too many) and arranged to go active in mid-July, after finishing a semester of college.

The day of entry, just as for so many others before and since, required a bright and early arrival at the old brick AFES* building in downtown St. Louis. In the words of Arlo Guthrie,

"you walk in, you get injected, inspected, detected, infected, neglected and selected ... and they was inspecting, injecting every single part of me, and they was leaving no part of me untouched."**

We were there for hours, parading in semi-nudity ... at one point, wandering up and down the halls in only briefs or boxers, as the case may be ... following those lines.

What lines?  Let me tell you about the lines.

There were painted stripes on the floor, starting in the lobby of the building. Green for Army, blue for Navy, yellow for Air Force, and red for Marines. Something like that. We were firmly instructed to follow the appropriately-colored line for the branch in which we'd enlisted. The implied threat (there's always an implied threat) was that if we deviated from the correct line, there'd be heck to pay. We weren't sworn in yet, so they couldn't be too nasty. Yet.

So there we all were, walking around in our undershorts. The tile floors were cold, but we were all big, strapping American boys; we could take it. There were tests for everything - vision, hearing, color-blindness, flat feet, hemorrhoids ... yeah, that one was fun.

Forty of so teenage lads, mostly fresh out of high school, standing in a circle around the sides of a room. A guy with a white lab smock and a clipboard (maybe a doctor, maybe not; who knows?) ordered us to turn and face the walls, drop our drawers ... and bend over & grab our ankles, so Mr. White Coat could inspect our, um, hind parts. As a commenter reminded me (below), we also were checked for hernias. "Turn your head and cough." (TSA agents in training, perhaps..?)

See the glamorous things we got to do for our country? (And you thought the military was all sherry and giggles ...)

Then there were the intelligence and aptitude tests. I scored very high in reading/comprehension, math, and mechanical skills. A word about that: the greater part of the mechanical test was identifying pictures of various types of machinery. One of my buddies in high school was the son of a machinist, and there was a VERY well-equipped machine shop in their basement. I'd seen all those machines in use, and correctly identified them. Ooh, I knew what a drill press was.

My scores got the recruiters rather excited ... they just knew I would want to enter the Navy's nuclear program. They were doomed to disappointment, but that's another story.

At the conclusion of all the testing, each of us had a very brief meeting with a Navy lieutenant (equal to Army captain) and were sworn in. Why that was in private, I don't know.

This went on until mid-afternoon, when we were all put in groups of three. Whichever boy's last name came first, alphabetically, was handed their three service records, and told not to let them go. Literally. ("If you have to take a leak, put the package under your arm! If you lose that envelope, the sun will implode!" Or something equally dire ... I've forgotten now.)

Around 5 pm, those of us who'd elected boot camp at the Great Lakes (Illinois) Naval Training Center were herded aboard a northbound train.

At midnight, the train stopped at a deserted platform and we were instructed to depart. The train pulled away, and we all stood there - looking around for a sign of any kind, indicating where we might go. No such luck.

Finally, I walked up the nearest steps and saw a high chain-link fence with a gate and guard shack, across the road. What the heck. I called to the others and off we went. Presenting our orders to the guard, we were walked another several blocks, stumbling in the darkness, and led into a large room filled with cots and sleeping men. We each picked up a blanket, a pillow, and selected an empty cot. It didn't take long to fall asleep.

The next morning, this corn-fed Missouri country boy awoke at Reveille (first time, ever!) to find himself surrounded by the most motley assortment of long-haired hippie-type freaks and inner city youth imaginable. Some of them scared me, to be honest.


After breakfast, we were sorted into companies of 80 men (cool! we were men, now!) and marched off, in a shambling sort of way, to be handed stacks of uniforms, underwear, boots, sneakers, and so on. Next stop was the base barber shop.

That was the great equalizer, just as it was intended. City boys, country boys, farm boys, gang-bangers, and hippies went in ... and Navy recruits came out, equally shorn of hair.


And the night and the morning were the first day. And behold, it was good.





* Armed Forces Entry Station
** "Alice's Restaurant" by Arlo Guthrie, ©1966,1967 (Renewed) by Appleseed Music Inc. All Rights Reserved.