Originally published in Rock Island Argus - Moline Dispatch - Feb. 12, 2009 - Frank Mullen III
Christmas is forgotten, the New Year's hangovers are long gone and even the Super Bowl is history. It's winter in Illinois, and there's nothing to look forward to.
Illinois needs a beacon of hope to light up these cold months of Midwestern misery. I propose a new winter holiday, an entire season devoted to remembering the bravery of that certain stalwart group of Americans who have braved and survived the worst that an Illinois winter can devise.
"Boot Camp," as I'm calling this new celebration, honors all those who, like me, participated in recruit training at Naval Training Center, Great Lakes, Ill., during the brutal depths of winter. If this seems silly, please remember that, like some of our favorite holidays, Boot Camp is for children.
The season begins one morning in the middle of February when tots awaken, run their hands across their freezing scalps and realize they've had a visitor during the night. They run to the nearest mirror and find that Stubby, the Navy barber, has cut off all their hair in their sleep.
Oh, how the children enjoy Boot Camp! Each morning they make their beds and then stand at attention while their father tells them how worthless they are. Patience exhausted, he screams, throws their mattresses on the floor and gives them 30 seconds to make their beds anew. When the children again disappoint Dad, he leads them outside in their pajamas and makes them do push-ups in the snow.
Grownups enjoy festive Boot Camp parties whose menus replicate the meals enjoyed by recruits at Great Lakes: uncooked hot dogs with no buns or condiments, Dixie cups half-full of cold beans and a lukewarm Kool-Aid substitute made from sugar, food coloring and dishwater.
Boot Camp music fills the chilly air. At night, when the children are in bed and out of earshot, adults sing "She Looked So Young and Pretty," the marching song I wrote at Great Lakes after my recruit company attended the lecture on sexually transmitted diseases and watched a film whose closeup shots showed what can happen to a sailor's anatomy when he does things he shouldn't do with people to whom he is not married. Throughout the movie, recruits groaned in horror. By the time the lights went up, three men had passed out and one had joined the priesthood.
The call-and-response marching song I based on this movie was so popular that Company 397 was constantly requested to parade around the Naval Training Center for the enjoyment of the training staff. Sadly, the words cannot be printed in this publication.
The Boot Camp season abounds with such happy melody. February becomes March in a flurry of push-ups and haircuts. Finally, on Boot Camp Graduation Eve, the children pack their clothing in their seabags and go to sleep.
When they awaken, they find they have been visited by Chief Furioso, the Drill Instructor, who has dumped the contents of their seabags on the floor.
Yet, hearts are joyful, for it is Boot Camp Graduation Day. The children Pass in Review, Mother hands out diplomas and the whole family sits down to a graduation dinner of uncooked hot dogs, cold beans and pink dishwater.
Someone notices that birds are singing and the sun is shining. Laughing Illinoisans throw their hats in the air and shake each others' hands. Boot Camp is over, spring is here and the depression of winter in Illinois is forgotten.
Until next February.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
© 2009 Frank Mullen III
