“Next!” boomed a commanding voice, threatening to all who had heard it.
I was third in line but felt the fear of the cadet about to enter the duty sergeant’s office. I knew the routine; I’ve been to the office once before. That time I’d made one mistake, but it only cost me twenty pushups.
Now second in line, I went over the entering procedures again in my mind. One-step forward, making sure that I’m in the center of the door less doorway. Make a sharp right turn facing the entrance. Pause, coming to attention. Then, with my right hand, knock three times on the side panel. I would need to request permission to enter. Once permission is granted, comes the hard part - I need to march directly to the center of the sergeant’s desk and come to attention again. This is difficult because the desk is set at a diagonal, which requires fancy footwork to end up in the correct position in front of the desk facing the sergeant. Finally I need to say that I’m reporting as ordered.
“Next!” boomed the voice again, breaking into my thoughts. The cadet in front of me stiffened, took a deep breath, and marched one step forward. I’m next.
While going over the procedures again I made sure that I was “squared away.” But it was hard to look sharp in khaki coveralls we called “poopy suits.” The Navy did not believe one-size poopy suit fits all, but they did believe that two sizes would do just fine. I made sure all the buttons were buttoned, the pocket flaps were not flapping, and the collar was turned down.
While smoothing out my ill-fitting poopy suit, I heard the booming voice from inside the office, “Are you eyeballing me, maggot? Drop down and give me twenty!” I forgot the most important part of the procedure: no eyeballing. I must always look straight-ahead, using peripheral vision to navigate my way to the sergeant’s desk.
“One, sir! Two, sir!” I heard the eyeballing cadet shout.
“Next!” I stiffened, took a deep breath, but then realized that no cadet left the office since I was waiting out front. Full of apprehension, but using the correct procedures, I requested to enter.
“Enter!” the sergeant said with some disgust.
I began my march to the desk. I almost stopped. The eyeballing cadet was blocking my way! What should I do? Should I step over him? “Six, sir! Seven, sir!” the count continued. Deciding that marching over a cadet was not military I marched around him, making sure that all my turns were sharp, right angles.
From one corner of the room I heard “Bah, bah, bah! Bah, bah, bah!” With my peripheral vision I saw two cadets running in place facing the wall. These sheep must have used an excuse that they were just following others in whatever rules they violated.
Maneuvering around the cadet doing the pushups and being careful not to bump into any file cabinets, I spotted another cadet standing at attention, facing a window in silence. No idea what he did wrong.
Once in front of the desk I made a half turn to face the sergeant. With “Thirteen, sir! Fourteen, sir!” and “Bah, bah, bah,” filling the room I came to attention. Fear kept me from laughing.
“Officer Candidate Airman Apprentice Guisto reporting as ordered, sir!” elevating my voice above the din. I was facing a well-groomed Marine Staff Sergeant, looking splendid in his tailored, form-fitting uniform. He wore two rows of ribbons - Too young to be in World War II, but old enough to have been in the Korean War. His expression gave truth to the cliché – lean and mean. Standing in front of him in my poopy suit and my heart thumping, I could feel the contrast.
“The doctors gave you a clean bill of health. You can proceed with your training, cadet Guisto.” Great, he didn’t call me maggot!
“Yes sir,” I said with some knowledge. The day before I had a meeting with the doctors. My blood tests had come back negative. They assured me that my health would not prevent me from continuing the training, including flight school.
“Are you ready to move out?”
“Yes sir!” I said with much enthusiasm.
“Nineteen, sir! Twenty, sir!” Then I heard the eyeballing cadet behind me jump up.
The sergeant turned his attention from me and ordered with some disinterest, “Give me twenty more.”
The cadet fell to the floor and started over, “One, sir! Two, sir!”
“You sound happy to be leaving us, cadet Guisto?” the sergeant asked me with a slight smile on his face.
“Yes, sir!” I replied with even more enthusiasm. I was really tired of being on medical hold and ready to get on with my pre-flight training.
“Don’t you like us here?” he continued, a drill instructor playing with his maggot.
“Yes, sir,” I said without confidence - not knowing what the correct answer should be.
“You’ll be going to the Blue Battalion with class 45-63,” he said apparently tiring and needing to get on with the other cadets. “Just be ready to move tomorrow morning. You’ll be called. Dismissed!”
“Yes, sir!” and I made a sharp about face and almost fell over the cadet still doing pushups.
Navigating my way out of the office I heard the mixture of “Bah, bah, bah” and “Sixteen, sir! Seventeen, sir!”
Out of office I was now a happy cadet. I didn’t have to do any pushups!
Smiling, I walked past four cadets waiting to see the sergeant, terror etched in each of their faces. Further from the office I heard, “Next!” but this time without the fear.