Most days I forget to allow myself to be proud of myself. But in December I always start to reflect on what I was doing at this time in 1990. It was a scary new time in my life.
I hate the cliché, “chapter.” Life isn’t defined by chapters. Life just happens, and it doesn’t roll on smoothly like a book. Different events occur that shape who you are, who you become, and you get through them the best you can. I suppose those can be considered “chapters”, but they don’t end and move on to the next one smoothly.
December of 1990 was brutally cold, and I was preparing to leave for basic training a few days after Christmas. I had made the decision to join the military, and I was terrified. It felt even more terrifying as tensions in the Gulf War were heating up. I didn’t understand politics and didn’t really pay attention to what was going on. I just remember people asking me why I would join the military at a time that we might be going to war. I was finally making friends and had a fun social life. I’d be leaving those people behind. But the desire to join the military had been at the back of my mind, secretly, since about 8th grade. I’d always been a little too chicken to think of doing something so big and scary. I didn’t have much confidence in myself. My self-esteem was very low back then, and I didn’t realize that earning the right to wear a uniform was the very thing I would need to feel like a million bucks!
Below is some of what I wrote a few years back and have added to it. It’s amazing what I have forgotten. I really am glad that I like to write, because these memories may have been lost.
27 December 1990: fear of the unknown, scared as shit. Leaving home, leaving Montana and leaving life as I knew it. It was snowing hard, and my dad was driving me to the bus station. My mom was too sad to go and I understood then, but as a mother, I feel her pain even more now. I remember the exact spot we were in the road when my dad told me that he wished he could make me stay and send me through college. The thought went through my mind that I wished that too, but it was too late-I’d said the oath and signed the papers.
We said our goodbyes at the bus station, and they loaded up what would later turn out to be way too much luggage. I climbed onto the bus, but it was delayed because it was snowing so hard. I sat there and cried as I watched my dad. He stood outside with his back against the brick wall, watching my bus. I was sitting next to an old lady who had the window seat. She told me to switch with her so I could see my dad better. God, that bus sat there for what seemed like forever, delaying the inevitable. I had my headphones on and was listening to a tape of Cinderella, the band not the chick. Fittingly, the song that was playing was called “Heartbreak Station”. He sang “…waiting at the station… tears filling up my eyes…”
Every time I hear that song, I get teary eyed, only because it makes me relive those moments.
I traveled to Butte and stayed at the MEPS owned motel, and I remember from when I went there for the first time for my physical and to enlist, people wrote on the back of the photos on the walls. It was kind of cool to see how old some of the dates were.
The next day was my first airplane ride ever, and it wasn’t scary at all. We flew out of the tiny airport in Butte and landed at the huge airport in San Antonio. After getting our luggage, again reminding me that I had too much, the other girl from Montana and I ran across the airport and barely made it in time to the bus headed for Lackland Air Force Base. I don’t know how the hell I ran with that much luggage, but that girl was a saint for sticking with me! It was late and it was dark, but it wasn’t cold like it was when we left Montana.
There was no snow. I’d never been so many states away from home before and I’d sure as hell never been as far south as Texas! It smelled funny there, not like the crisp mountain air that I grew up in. I was fascinated with the big city I saw on the bus ride there. It was a quiet ride. I suppose everyone else was kind of afraid of what was to come, or maybe they were excited…
The bus went through the gates of Hell and we stopped at a building where there were some mad dudes in BDUS and funny hats waiting for us. When they walked you could hear their boots click, which later became synonymous with fear, causing the hair to stand up on the back of your neck. Still happens to this day-heard it in Home Depot recently. Some asshole must think he’s real funny…
As soon as that bus door opened and the people ahead of me stepped off all I could hear was angry yelling. OH. MY. GOD. WHAT HAVE I DONE!? This is what I wanted to do? We were instructed to line up.
This is where I learned the game of “pick ‘em up and set ‘em down. “I said SET them down not DROP them!!!!!!!!” Before I could get all my shit picked up it was already time to set ‘em down. Luckily one of my suitcases was a hard plastic one my grandma gave me for the trip, so it was loud enough to draw attention to me. We played this game until it could be done quietly…
We were rewarded with a middle of the night meal served by some cranky people. We were herded into the Chow Hall and given flavorless food and given two minutes to eat it. Luckily we didn’t have to waste time choosing what we wanted to eat. This would be the norm for the next 47 days of my life. I learned to eat fast and use salt and pepper so that my taste buds wouldn’t die from not using them. My mom was a hell of a lot better cook than those cranky people. I was lucky enough to avoid what people called grits. I didn’t have to eat a grit but saw other people do it. They were from the South and were used to it and actually liked it!
We were then herded to our dorm. Not fancy, not private, and not cozy. We were told to dump all of our luggage out on our bed. Most items were confiscated except for the basics like soap, shampoo and undies. When it came my turn to show off what all I’d packed I was asked “what the hell do you think this is, summer camp!?” All he had to say was that I wouldn’t need that make-up, tapes and tape player, civilian clothes, handheld race car game, dress shoes, sandals, candy, gum, curling iron, hair dryer, etc. etc. that the recruiter told me I would be able to take. Damn liar. They were nice enough to store it all away for me at no charge though. Got ready for bed, I’d need my sleep. Flat pillow and itchy wool blanket, lumpy cot and too many roommates. Only a few hours to sleep. The next day would be the first day of the new Angie. No more shy and insecure little Montana girl. I learned that I could do some of the things I didn’t think I could. I realized that I never really had it that bad. I need to remember this girl and what I did. I joined the military and I made myself proud. I didn’t think I could do it but I did. It wasn’t easy but it wasn’t too hard. When I feel like someone treats me like a piece of shit, I try to picture one of those assholes going through boot camp and pledging to serve their country. Would they? Could they? If they did, they’d probably be another one of the chauvinists I’ve gotten used to over the years. (THAT’S a whole other topic) There are, however, many who actually did enlist and they have my love and respect. I’m honored to have the friends I do that I met because of this choice. So, all these years later I just reminded myself that what I thought at the time was “the hardest day of my life” ended up not being so hard. I got through it and ended up a better person for it. My parents did a great job as parents and made me able to do anything. Next challenge? Bring it on!
When I wrote the part above, it was 26 years later. It’s now 33 years later and I can’t remember some of the details that I wrote, so I’m glad I wrote it back then! Like the flat pillow and itchy wool blanket.
I am going to close my eyes and think of what else…
A chain around my neck with my dog tags and a key to the foot locker.
Everyone carried a box of Luden’s cherry cough drops in their pocket, and I think the same brand of the vitamin C drops. They were orange flavored. That was the closest thing to candy we were allowed to have, and for some reason we were allowed to have those. A tradition carried on from generation to generation: the medicinal treat. We had it made!
I remember how the bathroom echoed. Having to wear flip flops in the shower. There were doors on the “latrines” but the showers were open. Being on a new routine and diet, as well as only being allowed quick trips to the bathroom, were different for one’s regularity. It was everyone’s fear that if we had any issues in that department for too long, we’d be sent to have it taken care of. So I spent what time I could in the latrine, and that was usually when everyone was in the day room during mail call. One time I was sitting there and I heard “Trollope!” It was one of the loudmouth squad leaders, Douglas. I figured someone would let her know that I was in the latrine. Then I heard it again, louder. And again. I finally yelled “I’m trying to take a shit!!” Everyone died laughing and Douglas never let me live it down.
I remember a few of the bitches giving a blanket party to a girl that was a bit slow that they didn’t like. Not exactly sure what she did to deserve it, but it wasn’t right. Poor girl. I think she washed out and went to another flight. I hope she made it through.
Another time, during our day room hang out times, the TI’s were talking to us. Of course, we were being taught how to talk right. I guess my Montana upbringing wasn’t eloquent enough. The habit of saying “OK” needed to be broken. If I said it again, it was off to the latrine. “OK.” I found myself standing over the toilet yelling (so that they could all hear me) “OK, OK, OK, OK” (flush) “OK, OK, OK, OK” (flush). Finally someone was sent to retrieve me, after the TI’s thought I’d flushed enough OK’s down the toilet to break my habit. I think I did OK.
We had to take turns pulling dorm guard in the other dorms in our flight. This consisted of making sure that no one was allowed in without showing their military ID. NO EXCEPTIONS, NO MATTER WHO THEY WERE. One day I heard a huge ruckus in the dorm, and there was luckily some yelling that I could understand. I don’t remember all the details, but it was basically an airman getting tricked into letting a TI into the dorm. He got his ASS handed to him. So when the same dude came to my door, he was yelling at me to let him in. I asked him for his ID and he kept yelling to let him in. I politely played the game, while kinda shitting my pants. (I was extremely shy and timid back then, but it was slowly getting knocked out of me…) He finally complied and I let him in. Then he asked me for a 341, a small form we were required to carry a certain number of copies around in our pocket at all times, filled out with our name, flight and squadron number. That way if someone caught us doing something good or bad, they could fill it out and send it in and we’d be recognized for the action. I forgot all about that 341 until one day in the chow hall one of the TIs stopped me as I walked by the “Snake Pit” as they called it, because as you walked by, you better look right, act right, smell right, and clench your ass cheeks right because if they don’t like anything about you, you will be standing at attention in front of their table getting yelled at forrrrreeeeevvvvveeeerrrrr. You didn’t make eye contact, but if you were spoken to, your ass better damn well speak back. I heard “TROLLOPE!!” That last name never sounded eloquent when it was yelled. I stopped and gave the usual “Sir, airman Trollope reports as ordered!” I’m surprised I got the words out because I was shaking and wondering what kind of rotten hell I was going to be subjected to, and what funny look I had on my face as I walked by that warranted my soon to be punishment. “I heard you got a 341 pulled for excellence while pulling dorm guard.” (He was still scowling as he spoke) “You will have an extra patio break tonight, by yourself.” Sweet Jesus!! A patio break is when you get to go outside and buy snacks from the vending machine and use the pay phone and call mom and dad collect!! They’ll be so happy!! Hahaha!!!! Pay phone… how funny…
My 19th birthday was the day before we graduated. My mom sent a box of goodies, a letter and photos. The TI’s really enjoyed this. We had zero privacy during our stay there. They even read our letters, so it was really fun when they went through the box and found the photos she sent, of ME, looking like a dork and sticking out my tongue. How did she know that was going to happen…hehe!
12 February 1991 I made it out alive. I felt like a million bucks. I did something I didn’t think I’d be able to do. On to the next challenge, tech school. Unfortunately, I was too young to make big decisions wisely, so I chose my career according to how homesick I was. The closest tech school was in Denver CO, at Lowry AFB. I did have some choices there, but the military ultimately gets to choose the career field. I got my choice of Denver, but they chose B1/B2 Avionics Systems Repair Specialist. Say what? Ok, so off I went, to the next phase of my adventure. The next year was to bring some major changes to my life. Wow, looking back now, that’s a short timeline for some pretty major events that helped shape me into who I am today. And partly why I am writing about it in the first place.
While I was in Denver, I made a lot of friends. The girls in my dorm were great! We had so much fun and partied hard. Man, what a time…
Stay tuned for more!
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