The driver eased the bus through a gate, drove a few blocks and pulled to a stop in front of a low wooden building. Some of us were asleep--it was three in the morning--but most of us were looking out the window.
The single light bulb over the door to the building showed a guy in dark clothing, his hair shaved to the scalp. He was holding the door open for two other bald guys who were carrying boxes inside. A man in some sort of suit--a guard?--walked behind them and yelled at the guy holding the door.
"Damn," said someone behind me. "It must be a jail or something."
Another bald internee came out the door and walked toward the bus. The driver pulled a handle and the door wheezed open.
"Jeez, what the hell these guys do wrong?" said the guy next to me.
I wondered, too. The poor slobs had prison haircuts and were being forced to work through the night. The bald guy climbing into the bus didn't look happy at all. "I don't know," I whispered. "But whatever they did wrong, I'm never gonna do it."
It was too late, of course. I'd already done it.
The bald guy stood in the front of the bus and hollered, "Good morning, you poor bastards. Welcome to Recruit Training Center Great Lakes."
Frank Mullen's very unofficial source of poop, skinny and bitching for present and former U.S. Navy Musicians.
3 comments:
Exactly as I remember it!! My first night at GLAKES I had the honor of serving my first watch outside the barracks door--and lo and behold what happened?--- 2 recruits took off out the door, ran by me and vanished into the woods behind the barracks! Don't know if they were ever found or not but it was a hell of a way for me to start my 8 weeks of glee as a squirrel at GLAKES!!
Frank:
I know you asked us, just last month, to not leave comments about Navy personnel-- but you also said MU's-- I think that same bald headed SOB has been in place at Great Lakes from Teddy Roosevelt through Obama.
Living for the past 24 years a stone's throw from the "Quarterdeck of the Navy" you'd be surprised how often one can drive down Sheridan Road, south toward Lake Bluff, and see "anonymous hitchhikers" wearing fresh "blue jeans" a black stocking cap (in 90 degree weather) boondockers and a white crew-neck t-shirt. "Where are you headed?" I'll ask, then as they explain they're headed to Chicago, I just make the U-turn, head toward the gate, and listen as they tell me they're on day "7-6".
I pass by the place about once a week, and I forget to think about my first trip-- just like yours-- into the dark Great Lakes night; "Sign this" "Piss in this bottle." "Stand here" "Now sit there, now get up and stand over there/sign/piss/sign/stand/wait."
Nice website, as always. B-Z.
And if ANY of you SOB's show up in my neighborhood, dressed like that, heading over the hill...I'll pick you up and take you back to the front gate!
I should've jumped the fence!
Post a Comment