Halfway through basic training in August 1969 at Fort Knox, Ky., our company was informed we were to prepare for a complete inspection. As we prepared for the big event, we found out there could only be authorized items in the barracks. Of course, we all had civilian clothes and items from home. Not wanting to throw these items out we asked what to do with them. If I remember correctly, one of the cadre suggested we put said items in the attic.

Inspection day came, and a high-ranking officer (a captain?) performed his duties. When he came up to the second floor, he glanced up at the attic access and asked, "What's up there?"

We all stood at attention as our drill instructor volunteered to find out. Because there was no ladder available, the drill instructor motioned two large trainees to his side and looked around the room. His eyes fell on my 5-foot 11-inch, 145-pound frame, and he pointed at me.

"Private," he ordered, "over here."

He instructed the stout recruits to put me on their shoulders, and I raised the trap door to the attic.

"What's up there?" the inspecting officer asked.

"It's dark," I said.

Our drill instructor came up with a flashlight and handed it to me. With the light, I surveyed the assorted civvies and home goodies. A dilemma: If I squealed on my fellow recruits I foresaw a rough remaining tour, but if I lied, what were the consequences when caught?

"What do you see?"

"Nothing," I said, sweating bullets.

My two supporters put me down and the inspection continued. Even though I was sure our cadre knew the truth, there were no repercussions and I don't remember any fellow trainees thanking me.

P.S. This event didn't seem to have any effect on my top secret security clearance when I was assigned to a Military Intelligence Unit in Vietnam.

Sp5 Gary D. Lawrence