I was watching the “History” channel the other evening and was entertained by a feature known as “Basic Training”. The premise of this series is that six young Americans are followed through several weeks of US Army basic military training, or as I knew it – BASIC.

I don’t recall getting the same treatment that these young men and women are getting! What follows is the story of how I remember BASIC.

WHAT DO I DO NOW?

I was almost 18 years old, I didn’t have a job, I didn’t know how to get one and I was very naive concerning the ways of the world. I thought that I would be a very good firefighter, so I started trying to get hired. It was 1960 and I wanted to leave home and make my own way in life.

There were several options. The US Forest Service was hiring summer crewmembers; I applied and didn’t hear anything from them for several weeks. I was too young for the Los Angeles City or County Fire Department and so all that left the military. The draft was in full force with many of my classmates being called to serve in the Army.

I was young, but I had a high school diploma and the military wanted “a few good men”. I was smart enough to know that I didn’t feel like “camping out” with the Army for a couple of years, wading in the mud with the Marines or bouncing around on a boat with the Navy so I headed to the local recruiting office to see what they had to offer.

Ironically, the day before I left for basic training the forest service had “picked my number” and I got an invitation to join them at the Arroyo Seco fire station near the Rose Bowl in Pasadena, CA.

THE US AIR FORCE WINS!

There were two military recruiters in our town, the Navy and the Air Force. The day I went into the office the Navy man was out of the area on business. So, by default I chose to speak with the Air Force Sergeant on duty and a twenty-year career was born. He was a good salesman and I was a willing buyer of all he had to offer. Good pay, interesting job, world travel and life time medical benefits! I didn’t realize that he might be stretching the truth until many years later.

First, I was subjected to a series of physical and mental tests, which I passed easily. These consisted of a series of mental exercises of simple math, simpler English and some interpretive tests. The physical evaluation determined whether I had all of my fingers, toes, arms, legs, etc. Guess they wanted an inventory so they would know which parts of me they lost in the process of serving my country.

Then there was the paper work; large piles of paper with no definable purpose. There were forms for everything under the sun. Where were you born, where did you go to school, are you an American, do you wet the bed? This was the first few pounds of what would seem like tons of paper before I was to end my stay with the Air Force.

I told my parents that I was leaving home the night before I was due at the recruiting depot in Los Angeles. I had just turned 18 and didn’t need their permission to join. My first act of defiance was to do what parents and judges threatened teens with – joining the military services. This was 1960 and they were quite surprised! I collected my most valuable possessions and climbed aboard the bus. As I would later find out, I really didn’t need anything since all of it was eventually taken away.

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