At the end of May of 1970, I just graduated from the University of Wisconsin, Oshkosh. Promptly, I lost my 2-S deferment, which was replaced by a 1A. Within three weeks, I already had a job. Wow! Of course, it would be with Uncle Sam for the next four years in the Air Force.
The night of departure at General Mitchell International Airport in Milwaukee, the temperature was around 73 or so, clear skies and about 40 percent relative humidity. When the plane stopped at the gate at Lackland Air Force Base, Texas, the pilot turned off the A/C. We all started to grumble. The plane was loaded with about 150 young, eager and hormone-upped guys from Yankee country. Now it gets interesting. Every guy who finally got to the door looked like he hit a brick wall. It was around 11 p.m., over 90 degrees and oh so humid. An ominous start to our adventure.
At an assembly place, the intimidating drill instructor said if we had any contraband on us we should pitch it into the 55-gallon cans. He proceeded to walk away. After several minutes, the first clunk was heard, then another. When we were in the barracks at our assigned racks, he went through all our remaining personal items. When he was going through my wallet, he said I wouldn't be needing these for a long while. They were a pack of condoms. He was correct. The saltpeter in our diet killed all desire.
Our barracks was of the old World War II type, no A/C, just fans. We were jealous of the new, four-story A/C palace, which also housed the mess hall. Later, we were so happy to be where we were, as we got accustomed to the heat and humidity faster and not one troop killed himself in the old style, unlike the five who flew off the top of the newer type. The stress of basic plus going from A/C overnight to hot weather was too much for some.
Area guard duty was literally a walk in the park, especially during the 0300 to 0600 shift. It was quiet except for the K9s barking when someone went AWOL over the fence. The expressway was a favorite place to hitch a ride, or so the jumpers thought. There were signs on the road saying not to pick up hitchers as they were AWOL. It wasn't too difficult to spot one, as we all had our "ping" haircuts.
The most interesting event was training on the confidence course. It had rope swings over a nasty green pond; 55-gallon drums stacked in a pyramid, which was really slippery in the morning; a tear gas shed; a cable crawl again over some stinky pond; a mine field and a really tall wooden tower we had to climb up with no safety gear. I had to repeat the course twice, because I'm rather neat and except for the tips of my boots, the rest of my uniform was just like I stepped out for inspection. The drill instructor didn't believe me, so off I went again. Oh, this is fun. I saw him watching me, shaking his head. Again, when I presented myself to him, he just smiled and said to get lost. I heard him laughing when I trotted back to the other troops. The tips of my boots had a little bit more dirt on them.
The only scary thing was Correctional Custody. We unfortunately got a transfer from that place with concertina wire on top of the very high fence. He had been sent back twice so far. A real screw-up. He was mean and had an attitude to match. He'd been in basic training for over six months at that time. Guess who screwed up again and where he was sent?
At the end of our 90 days, a bunch of us were sent up to the Arm Pit of the U.S.A., aka Sheppard Air Force Base in Amarillo, Texas, in the panhandle. For the next 17 weeks, it was medical school. This place was a resort. Once over with the daily class, which ran from 0600 to 1200, we were off. We had A/C in the three troop rooms, a huge outdoor swimming pool, nearby beer and the Villa Motel just outside the gate for R&R with medical Women in the Air Force (WAFs) and booze and more medical WAFs and booze.
