In autumn, 1946, at age eighteen, I reported as Seaman Recruit to the Great Lakes Naval Training Station.

On one of the first days, bright and early, my company was ordered to fall out to the drill field, the grinder. Leaving the barracks, we were each given an unloaded rifle, a 1903 Springfield, from the storage cabinet. This was the first weapon I had ever held. It was surprisingly long and weighed close to nine pounds.

Scores of recruits in tan “boots” arrived at the grinder. We spread out in a large area facing the administration building. Standing on a wooden platform about fifteen feet high was a sailor. He picked up a rifle beside him and held it aloft. Speaking loudly, he directed us to follow him in the movements he made with his body and his rifle.

From a loudspeaker came a stirring military march. In tempo with the music the exercise leader raised the rifle above his head, then lowered it to his feet, then to the side, also bending and twisting his body. In unison, the recruit formation swung their rifles and moved their frames. The musical piece was long, and my rifle grew very heavy. Every morning we repeated these exercises. The leader’s movements were always precise and vigorous. I admired his stamina.

After Boot Camp, in an outgoing unit, I awaited assignment to Electronics School. I and two other seamen. were assigned cleanup duty on the grinder.

It was completely deserted. Working around the tall platform we noticed the exercise leader’s rifle leaning against the railing. It looked strange. We climbed the stairs and examined the rifle. It was a pound and a half wooden mockup!

No wonder he never tired.