Given the Boot 

Seeing a photo that my daughter Anna E. Prinkey posted for Veteran’s Day of me taken at boot camp at Great Lakes Training Facility dredged up some memories from that time. I saw the face of a nerdy teenaged man looking back at me with dark rimmed glasses. The first memory was the chaos after emerging from the bus on the base. My emotions were already in turmoil, I’d just flown for the first time from Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania to O’Hare airport Illinois. I’d just celebrated Thanksgiving at home and knew I’d be away from home for Christmas. Gathered with others in a large hall we were hustled from one spot to another gathering shoes, underwear, clothing and a duffle bag. The group was then herded into a barber shop where we were shorn. The clippers flew over my head and afterward as I ran my hand over the stubble, I was reminded of the plush of a stuffed animal. What a strange sensation. I’d only had a crew cut twice in my life. My dad deemed it necessary, and I hated it. I believe that is why I still wear a cap today.

I mentioned in past posts that the commander of our sister company was a real hard nose. Soon-to- be sailors under his leadership were so angry with his constant derision had made plans to kill him. If they did, we as their sister company would be kept in boot camp FOREVER or at least until things were sorted out. A goodly number of our company and theirs were blacks, many from the south. Our company thought we’d have to break the tension to salvage our training. Everyone in our company stripped the sheets and pillow case from their beds. Wrapped in the sheets with the pillow case tilted back on our heads so our faces would be recognized, we marched down the aisle of out sister company’s barracks.

The men of our sister company were at first shocked, but as they began to distinguish familiar faces they began to laugh. We were used to marching together and easily recognized. The mountng tension was broken and we graduated on time.

Another thought that was almost like an oasis in the confusion and myriad of new experiences, routines, and faces was in the first week of basic training, I was in line at the chow hall. One of the men “slinging hash” was a guy with whom I graduated high school. That was the only time I ever saw him, but it was just a bit of normalcy that I needed in the madness of boot camp.