Birth of the Blue Missile

Ok more of the academy style monkey chow:

At the end of the first summer I went back home, which had moved to NYC from the Island, and hung out for a couple of weeks. When I returned, I flew into Atlanta and then took a single engine plane to the airport by the school. About that ride, I’m sure glad there was no crop dusting to do on the way or it probably would have been on the schedule. It was rough and it felt like the whole affair was going to fall apart in mid-air. We landed on an actual paved runway but there was not much else there. I can’t tell you that it said Airport and tire care center but that’s how I remember it feeling. Someone from the school , I don’t remember who, picked me up drove me to the campus and dropped me off at the front steps of the administration building. It then became painfully obvious that this was a very different situation and had become a whole different world. After I checked in I was sent to pick up my uniform and all that went with it. I had already been through part of the process the previous summer. But now this included all the dress uniform stuff the brass buttons and army insignias that went with the uniform. None of which was required during the summer. I do remember looking through the window this time and seeing the face of an army major they say had been hit by mustard gas. His face and hands were covered with what must have been peanut sized tumors. As a teenager to see the visual effects of war was quite unsettling. After that blow from reality I had to go for my hair cut. Now I had gotten one during the summer, but even that was not like this. They asked you how you wanted it and then proceeded to cut all of it all off except a quarter of an inch. As I remember they had us check in during the middle of the week, so we could acclimate before classes started on Monday. That first weekend we took the school bus into town to stock up on Brasso and shoe polish, and any other supplies need for survival.
During the regular year this was a full-blown military experience. Twice weekly room inspections, where the term anal would be a kind characterization of the basic walkthrough. You had to be able to count your teeth in the reflection on the front of your shoes. Yes they did bounce a quarter on your bed, and if it did not bounce they tore your bed apart and you a new one. Your brass had to look like gold and your bathroom was cleaned with a toothbrush. The rooms were about eight feet wide and twenty feet long and you used a full bottle of Future floor wax each week. They were very serious about all of this because once a year a general from fort Bragg would come to the school for what they called G.I. (government inspection) and inspect the facilities and the troops. The schools military rating was based on this along with the rating of the close order drill team regionally. When classes started so did Military Ed. Even though we were just an ROTC Battalion, on the first day of class we did stand up and take the army pledge to protect the flag and the constitution, as if we were enlisting in the army. We were then issued US Army rifle cards, which allowed us to check out our rifles from the armory. These were fully functional M1A1 rifles except they were issued without firing pins, this will become important later. We had target practice twice a week and classroom instruction three times a week covering all that you would expect out of the army. There were three instructors two of which were lieutenants and then there was Major Buckley. The closest I can come to describing him is, a thinner version of the captain of the aircraft carrier in top gun. I don’t know what the actors name is but you get the general demeanor and picture of the person, that was major Buckley. We covered tactics and navigation, and such fun courses as the basics of the M79 grenade launcher and the use of the 88MM mortar. There was even a class on the shoulder mounted M72 LAWS Rocket, what fun. The strange thing however was that the ROTC instructors had nothing to do with the drill team, go figure.

With the exception of the Military Ed, the weekdays were not much different from the summer in the basic school format. However during the regular year there were after school sports and participation in one of them was mandatory. That first year I went out for the football team and became a tackle. There were not enough kids to make up two squads so we rotated offense and defense. The workouts were pretty standard for high school, the only thing I remember about that first year was the after practice climb up the three-story high stairs to get up to the locker rooms from the football/parade field. The campus is on the side of a foothill and is set up in a couple of terraces. I do remember that we didn’t have many schools to play back then. The one I do remember was the local industrial school for boys. They were huge and they showed up with anything but proper cleats on, golf shoes were what most of them were wearing. You know the little pointed spikey affairs. They literally and figuratively ran over us all day long. Now what WAS enjoyable was the halftime show. Their band and drill team with a drum major out front with one of those six-foot batons GOT DOWN. I or anyone else had never seen anything like that, you need to think “Drumline” here but this was in ’73. We all wanted them to do it again. The hell with us going back out there and getting pounded for another half. Needless to say we did get pounded for another half, this along with the strange puncture type injuries made most of us re-evaluate our pursuit of the sport at the academy.


More later
Andrew