Kit Carson

There was only a few brief moments in the room they called the lounge. It was where we were allowed to smoke. After two three mile runs, a hour on the obstacle course, an hour of calisthenics, four hours of classroom work, a hour of marching we could go into the little room and smoke. We could smoke and stare at each other in relative silence. And so we did and dreamt of life beyond the walls. Until the day sonar technician first class Neal (that was his name, the only name we ever knew) gathered all of us to tell us his proposal.
“Okay, men, you are halfway through your boot-camp experience here at Orlando. I propose a reward for your hard work. Some of you have expressed the desire for a radio in the break room. If you want, I will take up a small donation from each of you and buy a stereo that will stay here for future companies, it’s up to you.”
Sounded like a deal to us…music, the outside world, a contribution to future poor saps just like us, all for just a few bucks. It was a unanimous decision and we had a stereo for the break room the next day. Did I mention that we smoked in there? This was 1976 and about 80% of the 90 guys in company 444 smoked. This left the non-smokers forced to venture into our smoke filled room to hear music. Resentment was immediate, but it surely was a dictatorship that practiced democracy at the grace of the dictator.
It was early October 1976 and we turned the radio on and cranked it up. While we were out of touch, an old Aerosmith song had been released as a single and had swept the country. It was currently playing on the radio about 5 times a day. It was our first contact with the outside world in over 4 weeks.

It hit us hard on top of what we were into, ST1 Neal’s words echoing in our heads…”Touch The Sky” …”Be everything you can be, work hard, but don’t bend over”. Both hit me hard as I was still grieving the death of my brother-in-law and still wondering about what I could accomplish as a writer.

It wasn’t but a few days later that we began to separate as a cohesive group and stopped working together. We were soon on the tarmac mooing, yes I said that right…mooing. We didn’t want to moo, but that is a moo point…all moo. After mooing, things got worse and ST1 Neal lost most of the group, they didn’t buy his schemes to bond us as a group. As things got worse, ST1 Neal got madder.

We failed another inspection; some idiot had not followed directions, simple directions. I am not sure that I have ever seen anyone so mad. As he told us, it is stupid stuff like that could cost lives out there in the real world we were headed for; the fleet. He made each of us get on each side of our double-decker bunks with our rack mates and lift them chest high. It was to be an exercise in teamwork, not letting your buddy down. He pushed too far and one of the weaker ones dropped a bunk, but instead of down it went sideways and broke the arm of another recruit. All hell broke loose in typical military fashion and given the chance, everyone who had bristled at his techniques stabbed him in the back good and twisted. In the end it was the radio that got him…yes, misappropriation of funds…you can’t solicit funds from recruits.



They took him away and replaced him with someone else. I can’t remember his name for the life of me. But I have carried ST1 Neal’s words with me ever since. He was as good as they get; the real deal. He saw a chance to mold young men and took his shot. I think somewhere along the way that he realized that he was only going to make a positive influence on a very few of us. So there are about 75 guys out there telling the tale of their crazy boot camp commander and about 15 who would tell a different tale. There are times in this world when you just have to get tough and be tough. And you have to remember who’s on the other end helping you lift this burden and how your failure affects him and the people on each side of you. If orders were properly followed, we wouldn’t have been on all fours on the tarmac mooing.
If orders had been followed, we wouldn’t have been holding those bunks. If orders had been followed, we wouldn’t have had a radio. If orders had been properly followed, the Forrestal wouldn’t have buried nearly 400 sailors. ST1 Neal also had another saying which I haven’t sprinkled all through my poetry, but has stayed with me as well as “Touch the Sky”. It was his theory that the Navy would eventually get you and insert a large green weenie with no lubrication if you were not careful. “Beware the green weenie” became “Beware the Fall” for me later and we found out how true it was, of course. Cheers Mr. Neal, I never stopped dreaming or trying to touch the sky, rock on.


BTW~ They let us keep the radio.

JolieH

That must have been one smelly lounge. I'm sure the music gave everything a little more spirit, especially to a writer because music, language, often becomes like drug. At least it is for me at times.

Sounds like quite an experience, a lot of life lessons learned. So did they let you keep the radio?

Kit Carson

Yes we did and left it there. I doubt if they let them smoke inside anymore, different times. It is also hard to believe that "Dream On" took three years to become a hit song, what were they thinking?

PaintedDiary

Dear Kit,

This was some journey. ....and very intricate weaving! Having the events occur in real life really sets the tone of the story along with memories. That incorporated song is most fitting and added with your story telling is a best seller! I loved it! Just wow! Yes, 3 cheers for Mr. Neal... Awesome write Kit!

Kim

Kit Carson

Thank You very much Kim! I added a video of the song and two poems about boot camp with a link to a third very special poem (it's here..."Three Days In September") on Yahoo, making it a multi-media post...not sure how to do that here.