April, 1960, Lackland AFB. During the last week of basic, I was caught "looking around" in the chow line. The T.I. came over, pulled me out of line and stood me out in the middle of the grass. He said since I liked to look around, to stand there and find him an airplane. When I found one, I was to come to that screen window and show him where it was.
It seems that at chow time there is not an airplane in the state of Texas. I stood there for an hour, probably just ten minutes, when another Sergeant came up and asked what was the problem. After I explained, he said to go beat on the screen and tell him you found one. When asked where it is you tell him it is on the end of your g--d--- nose. What's a recruit to do but follow orders. Right?
I go beat on the screen and reported sharply that I had found an airplane. He asked where it was? To which I replied it was on the end of my g--d--- nose. Everyone laughed except him and me. His next words was to report front and center. This was not looking good.
After being properly chastised for being insubordinate, stupid and of poor ancestry, he said that with a name like mine, I should be able to sing. Now he's got my attention and this is not going to end well. Being a hillbilly from Arkansas, I could be just as stubborn as next guy.
He told me to sing Hound Dog. I said I didnt know it. He went thru all the Elvis songs and I had the same answer. He said to sing Yankee Doodle. Same answer. He told me I had five minutes to get thru chow and get to the barracks and learn Yankee Doodle.
Every night for the rest of the week I had to report to his office. Same question, same answer. The night before we left for Tech School at Sheppard AFB, he called me in and instead of asking the same question, he just smiled, shook my hand, and said its nothing personal, just part of process. We parted not as friends but at least on friendly terms.

Chuck Presley, Independence, Mo.