I was regular Air Force from 1969 to 1973. I enlisted in April of 1969, a few days before my 19th birthday, and spent basic training at Lackland Air Force Base in Texas. We were housed in wood-framed World War II-era, two-story, open-bay barracks.

My most vivid memory takes place on a Saturday morning. I was on guard duty for the barracks, which consisted of standing guard just inside the front door to the building. We were unarmed, and if trouble arose we were instructed to use our uniform belt to defend ourselves, if necessary. As new recruits living in an open bay barracks, security was constantly drilled into us. We were told over and over again to never leave our footlocker unsecured.

The events of my guard duty on that Saturday morning unfolded when the laundry detail left the building for the laundry facility to turn in and retrieve the laundry for the barracks. After they left, I made my scheduled rounds of the inside of the barracks. On the second floor, I found an unsecured footlocker. It wasn't just unlocked, the top was open. I asked around as to who belonged to the unsecured footlocker and was told the owner was on the laundry detail. I stood there for a moment contemplating my course of action. This was a major security breech, at least to a new recruit. Should I tell the drill sergeant? Should I close the lid and lock it or should I teach my fellow recruit a lesson?

I opted for teaching a lesson.

As anyone who has been in the military knows, your footlocker is an inspection item and fair game for an inspection at any time. So, I grabbed the can of shaving cream from the footlocker and proceeded to empty it onto the contents of the removable tray. I put the empty can back in the tray, closed and locked the lid. As you can imagine, all eyes on the second floor were on me as I completed the lesson. Upon securing the footlocker, I finished my rounds and returned to my post inside the front door and awaited the return of the laundry detail. I had enough time before the laundry detail returned to reflect on what I had just done, and I began to have second thoughts. Maybe my course of action was not the best and I should have just closed the lid and locked it.

Oh well, the damage was done.

The laundry detail returned on schedule and it did not take long before there was a major commotion on the second floor. I remember thinking I was dead meat. Sure enough, this airman came charging down the stairs yelling and screaming with the whole second floor behind him. By this time the whole first floor had heard the noise and was also pressing in on the barracks entryway. Not good. The offended airman went toe-to-toe with me. He was taller and a lot bigger then I was. My only thought was: This guy is going to kill me. I stood my ground and let him yell and scream and waited for him to start swinging. I did not say a word or even remove my uniform belt as a feeble attempt to defend myself. Other than the ranting and raving offended airman, the rest of airmen were dead silent and just stood there watching the events unfold. Unbelievably, the offended airman stopped yelling, turn around and returned upstairs, most likely to clean up the mess I had created.

I had managed to dodge a nasty bullet and completed the rest of my four-year commitment without further incident. If this gets printed, and that fellow veteran is still out and reads this, I would like to ask for his forgiveness. I would hope that he understood my actions and did not hold a grudge all these years. I would even be willing to buy him a beer.

Sincerely,
John Bloore, Henderson, Nevada