I was in basic training at Lackland AFB in November and December 1969. About two weeks in, there it was again – another open ranks inspection.
The T.I. (Air Force for D.I.) moved across the row toward me. The tension began to build as he approached, since they were really good at finding fault no matter how ‘together’ a person thought they were.
Now it was my turn; he executed his right face and took one step toward me, putting us face to face about a foot apart. He looked me in the eye, then looked down a little. As he returned to his eyeball-to-eyeball stare, he reached out and grabbed the hair just above the top button of my fatigue shirt and shouted, “Airman, what’s this?”
“Sir! That’s hair, Sir!”
“What’s it doing there?” he demanded.
“I don’t shave my chest, Sir!" I replied with certainty.
We continued our eyeball stare for a few seconds longer, then without saying a word he took one step back. As he executed a left face to move down the line, I realized that I had just given him the right answer.
Everything went smoothly for me for the rest of basic training. The T.I. set his sights on others who had yet to find their ‘right answer.’

Frank J. “Rap” Brown, Chandler, Ariz.