A Veteran's Journey

Trivia Questions (Answers @ end)

1. Who said, “I don’t like to commit myself about heaven or hell – you see, I have friends in both places.”?
2. In what movie did we hear the following exchange?
   “How tall are you private?”
   “Sir, five foot nine, sir!”
   “Five foot nine, I didn’t know they stacked **it that high!”
3. Who sang (and what song) the following?
   Don’t you ever feel sad
   Lean on me when times are bad
   When the day comes and you’re down
   In a river of trouble and about to drown

---

The Early Bird Gets the Worm

I grew up in the south as a kid in Gainesville, Florida in the 60s. My father was a World War II veteran and after the war, an attorney; my mother a housewife; and my sister… well, let’s just say she was a year & a half older than me: smarter, more stylish, and not as “wild” as I remember I was. Of course, when you’re a kid, what does “wild” mean?

When I began elementary school, I got into a regular “routine.” My mom gently knocked on my bedroom door, “Son, wakey-wakey. Time to get up and get ready for school. I’ve got breakfast on the table.”

I guess that might have been my first “duty station,” so to speak.

Back then, I walked to school… barefoot… 2 miles uphill… both ways. Or at least that’s what I told my own children when they were growing up. We still joke about that from time to time. Am I the only one here that did that?

But in the Navy, well… the “alarm clock” changed somewhat.

My first morning in Boot Camp (Orlando RTC, Company #163, July-September 1973), somewhere around 0400 (that’s ‘O dark thirty’), some asshole began kicking a 50-gallon garbage can down the middle of the barracks floor, yelling at the top of his voice: “Drop your **cks and grab your socks, ladies. It’s 0400 and time to **it, shower, and shave. You’ve got 15 minutes.”

Welcome to the United States Navy. I wrote about that “introductory” experience in an earlier blog, “From Civilian to US Navy.”

Making My Bed

My mother taught me how to make my bed and, when a teenager, how to fold fitted sheets (I still struggle with those masochistic linens). Not that I always made my bed in the morning before school, but mom encouraged me: “Andy… you need to make your bed before you come to breakfast. Otherwise…” and the rest of whatever she said kinda drifted off.

But in Boot Camp, let me tell you, I really learned how to make a bed without fitted sheets—just two white, standard Navy issue sheets. Our Company Commander (CC) taught us the “proper” way to make up our racks (they’re not “beds” in the Navy; they’re called “racks”).

“If I can’t bounce a quarter off your rack, the entire company will begin the day with an early morning deck party!”

For those not in the know, a deck (not a floor) party usually comprises an excruciating method of learning which of your muscles needs the most work. Sit-ups, pushups, and my favorite… “Hello Dollys.” Yeah, I wrote about that too in an earlier blog post.

Yep, that tradition of making my rack before breakfast kept with me through ABH “A” School, NAS Agana, Guam, and USS Kitty Hawk. And after the Navy, I kept it up while working as a city firefighter with the Gainesville Fire Department.

Finish What’s on Your Plate

My mother (and my father) used to tell my sister, Anne, and I two things while we ate. First (when we were younger), “finish everything on your plate and you’ll get dessert.” As we got a little older, we learned about “starving kids in other countries.” Then, as a pre-teen, “You don’t have to like it; you just have to eat it.” Followed by, in our teens, “Howard Johnson’s is just up the road.”

When I joined the Navy, breakfast, lunch, and supper became “chow.” Another great term all military members share, no matter if you’re Navy, Army, Marine, Air Force, or Coast Guard.

And from my memories of boot camp and my two duty stations, NAS Agana, Guam and USS Kitty Hawk, I never went hungry and for the most part, chow was tasty and there was always plenty of it. I actually wrote an earlier blog titled Midrats… and other Navy Chow.

Sure, there were some things I liked better than others. But I learned on the carrier that feeding 5,000+ sailors three times a day (plus midrats), took quite a dedicated mess crew. I can honestly say I cleaned my plate almost every time I sat down for chow.

Most of the time, I finished quickly, especially when at sea. Since I worked on the flight deck in V-1 Division/Crash, we had to rotate shifts to make sure our guys got down to chow and still maintain a full crew.

That’s one habit that’s been hard for me to break. I’m better now than when I first came home, 44 years ago. I easily scarf down a full meal in a matter of a few minutes. I have to remind myself to purposefully slow down when I eat; and my wife has helped me to break that habit. It took a few years and a bottle or two of Cabernet, but I learned.

Now, I just “hang the feed bag.”

Anyone else?

Folding Clothes

Growing up in the 60s, blue jeans, T-shirts, white socks, and Keds were my choice for clothes. I’d tuck my shirt tail in when I had to go “fancy.” And yes, I’d often leave my clothes scattered about the floor of my bedroom. And I certainly never folded them. I mean, why, right?

More than once, my mother “informed” me that, “we have a clothes hamper; use it!”

The only problem was that it wasn’t in my room… my kingdom. It was all the way on the other side of the house. Sheesh, now I have to haul my clothes across the vast wasteland from my room to the other room? What’s next? I have to fold them, too?

And… you know what’s coming next…

In Boot Camp, we all learned to fold clothes the Navy way. And why did we have to do that? Was it to become organized? Was it so that the CC could glance around at everyone’s locker to make sure everything was in order? Or, was it that the CC insisted upon neatness?

No, it was because in the Navy, everything you owned either fit in a locker or a seabag. There wasn’t much room… anywhere. Unless, of course, you lived off base.

Then there was that time when someone in the company failed inspection and the CC went around “tossing lockers.”

For those of you who never heard that term or experienced a “barracks tornado,” the company commander would go through the barracks—there were 80 of us, each with a rack (bed) and a stacked “open faced” locker—and pull out clothes from everyone’s lockers and toss them onto the deck (floor).

Then, and only then, did it remind me of growing up with my own clothes in my own bedroom scattered about. Thank God and the Navy that we’d stenciled our names on every item of our uniforms during that first week in boot camp.

Yeah, I learned how to fold clothes “properly” in the Navy. I still do, to an extent, but do I yearn for that cramped coffin locker space on the ship? I think many of us would have the same answer to that idiotic question: not only no, but hell no!

Respect Your Elders

I’m sure I’m not the only one whose parents often told me, “Respect your elders”—sometimes stated with… you know… that “stink eye” look—followed by additional non-solicited parental advice I can’t even begin to remember.

But in Boot Camp… well, let’s just say the Company Commanders were older than us new recruits. In fact, many of them were lifers with an outstanding naval career. And from what I remember, our CC would rather have been stationed aboard an aircraft carrier (he was an ADJ1—Aviation Machinist’s Mate, 1st Class Petty Officer), than to babysit 80 new raw recruits, soon to be (if we graduated) FNG’s. [See glossary]

I can look back on this now with humility. But back then… like most 18-year-olds, I thought I knew everything. I learned (the hard way) that one of the goals of boot camp—and I assume in all US military boot camps—is to break each recruit down individually and rebuild the company back together as a team.

Teamwork—yep, I learned that in the Navy and it stuck with me throughout my life.

Now… I’m the elder.

But does the younger generation respect my generation? I’d like to think so, but I don’t make the “Respect your elders” comment too often. It just doesn’t seem to matter these days.

Make a Commitment—Stick with It

My first real paying job was slinging hamburgers at a fast-food restaurant called Burger Chef in Gainesville. I was 14 years old and rode my bike to work, unless it rained. Then either my mother, my father, or my sister “drove me to work.” In 1970, I made ninety cents an hour; not bad back then.

But I stuck with it, ‘cause I enjoyed working and even more, liked making money, although I was still learning the “value” of money, but that’s another story. Apparently, I was an outstanding employee; good enough to make night and weekend manager at age 15. I still had to wear a silly paper hat, but because I was a “manager,” I got to wear a blue hat instead of the white hat. Yeah… it was a big deal back then.

When I signed up for a four-year enlistment in the United States Navy, I was committed to finishing my duty. Back then, it was much hard to “get out” than it is now, but I honestly never thought about that. Sure, there were times when I wish I was somewhere else. But when I made that type of commitment, I thought it more important to finish than to quit. At least, that’s how I felt.

I almost made it… let me ‘splain.

I joined on a Tuesday and got out on a Friday. Instead of a full four years in the Navy, I could only pack in “Three Years, Eleven Months, and 29 Days. But Who’s Counting…”

I say that in jest, and it usually gets a good laugh. Better yet, I wrote a book with that title—my Navy experiences.

The Navy Never Left Me

I still make my bed almost every morning. It’s one of several morning rituals, but these days, it’s after coffee… and we’ll leave it at that.

I still fold most of my clothes, though I’ll admit, not as exact as in the Navy. But then, I don’t have a CC or DI looking over my shoulder. I seem to have a little more room these days. And… I can honestly say, my wife has never “tossed” my locker.

I still eat everything on my plate, whether it’s at a restaurant, our kids’ homes, a friend’s, or our own home.

And, I still respect my elders though… I realize at 66, now I’m the elder. And no, many younger folks these days don’t respect their elders. And as I think about it, that probably was the same back when I was a kid.

I still keep my commitments, whether or not I want to. If I tell someone I’m going to do something, then by God, I do it. I may not do it as well as they’d like, but then, they’re not my CPO.

Over the years, I’ve held many jobs and experienced many journeys. I can honestly say that I’m a team player… sometimes more so than others. But I think the more I can help others (Paying it Forward), the workplace will be a better environment.

I’m sure I’m not the only one, but I did learn a thing or two in boot camp—those early years set the bar.

Until we meet again,
Andy

---

Previous Posts Mentioned in this Blog:

• #21—Reveille!… and Other “Alarm Clocks” Over the Years
• #4—From Civilian to US Navy
• #73—Boot Camp: “Hello Dollys…” and Other Things I Can’t Forget
• #40—Midrats… and Other Navy Chow
• #66—Paying It Forward

Answers

1. Mark Twain.
2. Full Metal Jacket (1987).
3. Sam and Dave, Hold On I’m Coming (1966); written by David Porter & Isaac Hayes.

---

Get your FREE copy of my novel, NEVER FORGET (see below).
No obligations, nothing to fill out.

Andy Adkins is a US Navy veteran (’73-77) and the author of several books. His newest novel, NEVER FORGET, is the story of A Vietnam Veteran’s Journey for Redemption & Forgiveness. NEVER FORGET is FREE (eBook, PDF) for all veterans. Download your FREE copy HERE.