From just about the first moment I entered Tracen Alameda in August of 1974, it was obvious that anyone from Texas would ultimately have a bigger hill to climb in getting to the end of boot camp than everyone else. Insult upon insult was thrust upon anyone admitting they were from Texas. Guys had to do extra pushups just because they were from Texas. For reasons I’ve never understood, Texans drew more attention from the Company Commander than non-Texans. The first time I saw the movie Full Metal Jacket, I howled out loud as senior drill instructor GySgt Hartman berated some poor recruit after learning he’s from Texas, “Holy dogshit! Did you know that the only difference between a Texan and a five-gallon bucket of shit is the bucket?”
Continue reading “Aug 13th, 1974 Texans Are a Hearty Bunch – and Have to Be Throughout Boot Camp”Category: Coast Guard Musings
Aug 9th, 1974 – What the F**k Have I Gotten Myself Into?
I’d enlisted in the Coast Guard and was now deeply entrenched into this little excursion called boot camp. I was so lost and confused during those first days. And exhausted. How had I come to make the biggest mistake of my young life? I felt clueless and couldn’t comprehend what was going on. Always running from point-A to point-B. Countless pushups. Constantly getting yelled at. Experiencing the wrath of the BM1 Beecham, the Echo/98 Company Commander, whose face often seemed positioned just in front of me. I didn’t dare look the CC directly in the eyes as he loudly berated me, told what a maggot I was, how I was not worth the pay rate of a seaman recruit. I wondered whether I had potential to call myself a Coast Guardsman?
Shortly after being merged from forming company into the Echo/98 company, and just after lights-out following another long, overwhelming and stressful day, this beautiful sounding tenor voice started singing, “Yesterday, all my troubles seemed so far away. Now it looks as though they’re here to stay, Oh I believe, in yesterday. Suddenly, I’m not half the man I used to be, there’s a shadow hanging over me. Oh, I believe in yesterday.” After finishing that Beatles tune, one could have heard a pin drop in the barracks. There was no rustling about, no tossing or turning. Everyone was perfectly still in their racks. I didn’t understand it, but for the first time in a week I sensed some semblance of normalcy. I had tears in my eyes as this acapella tenor voice filled the room. Each night thereafter there would be another song just after lights-out. I’m sure the CC knew what was going on. Yet he allowed each night’s singing for reasons I’ll never understand.
Nevertheless, I’ve sometimes heard people talk about the power of music. During those nine weeks, I certainly experienced it. And it was wonderful. Many thanks, Seaman Recruit Renny Dozier, for helping me get through a tough time.
Semper Paratus

