Welcome to the Dance USN

by GEORGE LICATA

  The talk in the barracks is not about me or Rodger confronting the RCO. It’s about what happened after I threw up. Hundreds of seagulls descended on the vomit. They tried in vain to gobble the orange vomit. But try as they may they couldn’t get their beaks to slop the puke. They lacked tongues. This was all the buzz throughout the whole barracks. Hey any form of entertainment is entertainment.

  We spent the rest of the day getting settled into the new barracks. They looked and smelled exactly like the old ones we just left. Company 448 was next to us. The hall between us was again off limits. We entered from the back alley that had the same trash containers. The grassy landscaped front was also off limits. The only beings I saw using the front was the CC and his gang. We set up the same with the same bunk mates. I need to get ready for my duty at the mess. The world is still in a haze. Later.

  December 20, 1072, Wednesday

  Some of what I am writing I don’t remember. The gaps were filled in by Rodger, Doug, Frenchy and most of the barracks.

  I remember marching with twenty other recruits to Worm Island on Monday night at 1800 hours, 6:00 p.m. Some guys worked the kitchen some cleaned and emptied trash. I did whatever the master-at-arms wanted me to do. It was easy enough, close a line, open a line, get coffee, and get snacks. Every once in a while a group of recruits would get to loud. I would be sent to quiet them down. The Masters at Arms and the other two stripes never left the office. The opened door gave them all the view they wanted. They had a TV, they had me, what more did they need.

  This is where it gets hazy. The world was starting to cloud over. At the same time a recruit lost his mind. This lanky angry recruit had jumped on top of the table. He was yelling at everybody. “Fuck you, fuck you,” over and over. He was freaking out. When his friends tried to grab at him, he kicked them away. The Stripes looked out at the commotion. They nodded at me and said, “Lad, take care of that, will you?” They leaned back and continued to watch TV. This must happen all the time.

  I don’t know why but I found myself in a full run, headed straight at the recruit. I sprung myself from an empty chair and was air born. By the time the recruit realized what was about to happen, it was too late; it was happening. I hit him squarely in the midsection. A perfect tackle, except I was still in the air. My momentum caused his legs to fly out from underneath him. We were both air born. Gravity pulled us back to the table and we slid off the end, he broke my fall to the floor. We slid on the floor in till the wall stopped us. I got up off of him, he was very dazed and semi motionless. The master-at-arms was there by then.

  I don’t remember marching back to the barracks. I was told they sent me back, they didn’t wait. I barely remember the barracks I found my rack. I didn’t even go up top. I laid on the bottom rack, on Covington’s mattress. I fell into a deep sleep.

  The next thing I remember is waking up. I was under a bunk on some blankets on the floor. I was staring at the under springs of the rack; trying like hell to figure out how I got here. My throat was dry and it hurt. I tried to speak, I could only manage a whisper, it hurt. I slid myself from the underside of the bunk. I was tucked away against the wall. I was under Adams empty rack. I pulled myself up to look over the mattress. I could see recruits cleaning. I tried again. “Hey.” I managed to get out an audible whisper. One of the guys turned to see me. He smiled and turned away. I could hear him shout. “Hey he’s awake. He’s awake.” He turned back and walked over to me, it was Ike. He was followed by Doug and Rodger and some others. They helped me to the table and sat me on the bench.

  They told me after I passed out on Covington’s mattress they knew something was wrong. When they couldn’t wake me they got concerned. They thought if I had a good night sleep. I would be ok in the morning, I wasn’t. I didn’t have blood running from my ears like Adams so they hoped I would be ok. If they called for help I would have been taken to the hospital. They were worried that I wouldn’t get to go home for Christmas. So they hid me. They threatened Chris to keep his mouth shut, or he would be beat. They agreed to give me in till this evening if I didn’t wake up they were going to call for help. They were elated that I was not dead. So was I.

  I went to the infirmary. They said I had walking pneumonia, 101 temp. I could go to the hospital or go back to my barracks. My choice. They said carry on, take these aspirin and drink lots of water. One aspirin equaled four civilian aspirins. It looked like a horse pill. The doctor said not to worry my voice would come back eventually. One more day and we leave for Christmas. Later.

  December 21, 1972, Thursday

  Adams is back they let him rejoin us. They figured we never passed a single test. Meaning we don’t know any more than a new company knows. He may as well come back where he has a bunk.

  The yeoman switched my duties. I am now his assistant. I’m helping him pass out our airline tickets. Later.

  It’s late we have the barracks squared away for our holiday leave. Nobody is sleeping to night we are two excited. I can’t wait I will be able to light up smokes when I want. No fucking smoking lamp for two weeks. Later.

  December 22, 1972, Friday

  We got up quickly. We cleaned, we marched to chow. We marched back. We changed into our dress blues. I grabbed my peacoat. We marched to board our buses. We wished each other happy holidays. And now I am on an airplane headed home for Christmas. I was going to have the house for New Year’s Eve, and my parents are in Arizona. I don’t have a voice, but I don’t care. The men saved me. I still can’t describe how close I feel to those guys. Those guys that I have known for four weeks. I think I understand the meaning of “giving your life for your comrade.” If I had to, I wouldn’t hesitate. Leave it to the military. I won’t write in till I get back from the holidays. Later.

  January 3, 1973, Wednesday

  I won’t bother to go in to the details of my holiday vacation. It would take too long. Besides I don’t remember most of it. I do remember it was the most fun holiday ever. Imagine, you’re in hell, you get a break from hell. During this break from hell, you get free food, free housing, everybody offers you drugs and booze. Everyone is happy to see you. You get two weeks of love and parties. Nobody is around that can tell you what to do. It’s the holiday party season. Here is the short version.

  When I got to the Denver airport I called Jim to pick me up, he did. It was early evening. He dropped me off at home and he drove around the corner to his house. My three older brothers were taken by surprise they never expected to see me. There I was in my navy blues and a sailor hat walking in the back door as if it was a normal day. “What are you doing here?” were the first words out of their mouths. “I live here. I think I have a room here,” I replied. “Do Mom and Dad know your here?”

  “No, they don’t and I intend to keep it that way, unless you have a problem?” They were over it before I started. They knew what I was going to do. They just stayed out of my way. I went to my room and changed into civilian clothes. The only thing navy I wore all holiday was my cool peacoat.

  My cousin Rick came and stayed the next day, the twenty-third. We partied, up to Christmas Eve. That night we celebrated the traditional Italian gathering. At another relatives house. The gathering hosted over a hundred Italian relatives. We drank wine and ate lots of food. What more could I ask for.

  Christmas day my brothers and myself spent with Rick’s clan, my aunt Nina’s. I did call my parents. Their reaction was predictable. They weren’t too happy. I said the navy changed their mind. How about that. What can I tell you?

  The rest of the time home was spent with my friends, daily, nightly and in the afternoons. I miss being home. I had a blowout New Year’s Eve party. I cleaned the house before my parents came home. I was getting good at cleaning fast it was no big deal. I did spend one day with my Dad and Mom.

  Dad asked me what I learned. I told him so far the most important thing I learned was to sit on the toilet every morning and to hurry up and wait. However most of the time was hanging with my brother Rocky
. I had to tell him everything. I had to hear everything he had to tell me.

  I did bring back some pot to San Diego. I had ten rolled joints. I wasn’t sure how I would pull this off. I figure if I tell Doug, Rodger and Adams, between the four of us we should be able to figure something out. I’m thinking the hallway between the Companies’. Nobody goes through there, not even the CC. There must be a spot to stash the joints. I could get working parties and sneak in a joint, maybe. I’ll have to play it by ear.

  At the San Diego airport I knew the routine. I had my military ID. I went to the base bus that took me to the barracks. I walked to my barracks from the base bus stop, changed into my work dungarees. I was ready for round two.

  We were expected back by 2100 hours, 9pm. All but three recruits came back. The CC came in to get a head count. He didn’t stay long. It was lights out and he left.

  Later.

  January 4, 1973, Thursday

  The CC flips the light on in the morning. Here we go again. After morning chow the CC gives Rodger instructions for our day and disappears. When we have time to talk about our vacation it’s all the same conversation, nonstop partying. And; a hard time dragging myself back to boot camp.

  We all had the same cultural shock. Before we arrived here we fit in. No matter where we were from. We were for the most part long hairs. Nobody hurled insults at us. Some of us were doing the insulting. Now we are the baby killers. We are the war mongers, we are part of the war machine. Because of our short hair. Of course our uniforms might have something to do with it.

  I wasn’t the only one that brought back drugs. Rodger, Doug, Adams even Frenchy. I would have thought Frenchy would be too afraid. I think half the company brought back drugs. We were running out of places to hide it. Rodger gave me the night watch. I smoked my first joint on a navy base. What is this world coming to? Rodger gave himself the watch after mine. We didn’t see the CC all day. My watch is finished. Later.

  January 5, 1973, Friday

  The CC flipped the lights on, he talked to Rodger and disappeared again. We went from chow to class to class to chow, to classes, to chow and back, where we cleaned. Some of us have taken to sneaking out to the forbidden front. We found a clump of bushes. We get down low and smoke refers. We just need to stay under The RCOs radar he would turn us in, in a flash. We watch out for each other, to give the all clear to take a toke.

  The company seems to be pretty happy. We do a lot less complaining. Those that came back from the holiday break seem to be resigned to the fact that we are here and there is nothing we can do about it.

  We send our laundry out to be cleaned now. It frees up time to study. We have a test tomorrow. This is the test that they expect us to pass. After all, they let us go home for Christmas, now pass the fucking test you fucking worms. We don’t need the CC around to yell and scream. There are plenty of stripes in the classes to take up the slack.

  We spent the evening stressing to the Filipinos to flush the toilet and anyone else that forgets to flush. We quizzed each other on all things navy. The CC was gone so Rodger let us smoke. We are ready.

  The CC gave Ike permission to use his office to read his bible after lights out. I have taken to joining him to talk bible stuff and to write this journal. I’ve been bible studying since way back in Catholic School. Some of the other recruits join us from time to time. We get into some great religious debates. Especially if we are high after a long day. It’s amazing how well we get along. Later.

  January 7, 1973, Saturday

  CC was in early this morning. The SOB. Don’t he know it’s a weekend? He didn’t stay long, again. He gave his instructions to Rodger and left. Later we found out that we failed the test and all the retests. I don’t understand it we answered the questions like the CC taught us, what more can we do. The usual turds magically appeared in the toilets. Blemishing another wise spotless barracks. From the front of the formation, where I am it looks like we are marching correctly. I can’t see what happens in the back.

  Once again we pick up the pieces. We straighten out the barracks, sorting through the scattered cloths and the over turned lockers and bunk beds. After wards we go to a class then chow. The shit hit the fan after chow, again.

  Rumor has it; over eighty percent of the boot campers brought back drugs. And the Brass knows it. When we arrived at the barracks we were greeted by the CC. Not a good greeting like, “Hi, how you been?” No, this was a “Fall out, you worthless worms! Get to you bunks and stand at attention!” Double time!” greeting.

  We ran. We stood at our bunks at ridged attention. Ten minutes later the SPs (shore patrol) burst through the doors like the storm troopers they are. The looked down on us like we were lunch, lunch that they wanted to eat just to spit us up. They had drug sniffing dogs. I hoped no body was stupid enough to hide their drugs around their bunks. With this bunch one can never be too sure. We didn’t dare to move, we stood at attention.

  The troopers and the dogs ran around in a frenzy. They found nothing. They took the show out front. I started to worry, I would hate to lose my stash. That’s where I kept it buried down a foot.

  I have never seen a drug dog. I grew up around dogs. I know the ways of dogs. The more I watched the dogs out the window. The more it occurred to me that these dogs didn’t have a clue to what the handlers wanted. They were running around in circles. They smelled the ground and peed on the flowers and bushes. Each dog pissing where the other pissed. They kept getting the leashes’ tangled. When a handler pointed to something, the dogs had no clue what they wanted. Some of the dogs thought it was play time. The dogs were more interested in each other and pissing. They were a bunch of family dogs on an outing.

  I laughed hard on the inside, Keystone cops. After a while they got tired and moved to the next barracks. We were ordered to stand down and gather around the CC. He told us about the 80% drug number. He said the navy was offering amnesty to any recruit ready to turn themselves in, or somebody else. Most of us glanced at Chris, he was silent. We fell in and marched to chow. Later.

  January 8, 1972, Sunday

  The CC said that on this side of boot camp we get to sleep in an extra hour on Sunday. However since we are so fucked up we don’t get that privilege. The light over my head flashed on at revile, right on time. Could it get any worse? Later.

  It got worse. We never know what we will face after morning chow any more. Today was no exception. A group of five officers and six stripes were at our barracks. It was obvious that they were waiting for us, they looked impatient and angry. The company was halted and ordered to stand at attention. The CC went over to talk to the men. He came back to us an ordered us to fall out and stand at attention by our bunks again.

  We stood waiting for him for a long time. He did come in the barracks after a long wait standing at attention. He ordered us to put on our work coats, our peacoats and our rain coats. When we finished doing that, we were to get our pieces and wait at attention by our bunks. Triple time, run! “This can’t be good,” I told Doug. “No shit,” he said.

  We were standing at attention with our pieces at our side. They blew through every door. The officers and the stripes as if on cue. Half of them went upstairs.

  They walked through the barracks yelling and spiting and screaming every curse word I have ever heard and some I am hearing for the first time. If you flinched they were on you. If your eye swayed from looking directly ahead, they were on you. One hundred push-ups was the price to pay if you got their attention. You blinked and they were on you. “A hundred push-ups, you fucking worm!” They said, “You can’t do it the easy way, then we can do it the hard way! “You are the stupidest company in navy history! I have never seen a group of dummies like you!”

  “You managed to fail ever test you have taken. You’re stupider than whale shit!” It went on and on. They moved from one recruit to the other. Then one of the officers ordered us to do jumping jacks with our rifles. “Ready begin! Jumping jacks forever! One, two, one, two, one, tw
o. It didn’t end. I was sweating badly. I felt like I was going to pass out. Some recruits did. They yelled as the recruits were falling to the floor. The stripes yelled at them while they were passed out on the ground.

  The bunks and the lockers flew everywhere. Two of the stripes stuck out specifically. Two first class petty officers. They did what they did together. At times they conferred with each other before taking action. The other stripes also deferred to them. They were called Salt and Pepper. A large white guy, he looked like Baby Huey. A large black guy, he looked like a large black guy. They seem to take more pride in breaking us down, than the rest of the stripes. They made sure they got in all our faces personally.

  This went on for hours. I can’t count the number of jumping jacks and push-ups we did. Seemed like it was in the thousands. I thought they had worn themselves out. They didn’t. When they were done with us they all went next door to 448 our sister company and started over.

  We licked our wounds, we began the long cleanup. They mixed the trash in with the cloths. It was late when we finished cleaning up. The CC wouldn’t let us go to chow. Ike wanted to discuss the bible. He was on his own tonight. I didn’t have the energy to sneak a joint. After that work out I was famished and tired. Later.

  January 8, 1973, Monday

  I finally get it. That’s the first thought I had this morning, once again I was rudely awaken. This is the Twilight Zone. It’s Monday, the CC will teach us the navy way. We will march to classes that teach us more things navy. At the end of the week we will be tested on these navy things. We score as always, like we never heard of the navy. All this will end badly with us getting beat down. Then we will do it again the week after this. I have to get used to it, I live in the Twilight Zone.