It was February 1953, and arriving at Sampson Air Force Base near Geneva, N.Y., my fellow recruits and I stepped off the bus and were greeted with very cold temps and lots of snow. After being assigned to our unheated barracks and with water frozen in the butt cans, we were then marched in formation to the supply warehouse to get our clothing allotment. As it turned out, we received only some of our clothing, meaning when we turned in at night we owned a mix of civvies and military. Still without heat, everyone got into their sack wearing sweaters, socks, etc. About 1:30 a.m. we were awakened by a large commotion and commanded to fall out and stand at attention to be inspected by our training instructor (T.I.) and some seasoned recruits. Stopping at the Airman to my left and seeing his fuchsia-colored socks, the T.I. asked “…and what have we here, Twinkle Toes?” I broke up with a large grin on my face and was quickly asked if I thought something was funny. Afraid of being disciplined, I replied, “No, Sir! This is my normal look!” The T.I. said “If I ever see you at any time on this base without that look, you will be in deep do-do!” Thankfully, he was transferred a week later.