“Are you a maggot, Maggot!” he shouted at me.
It wasn’t a question; it was an indictment. He wasn’t just shouting. Each word was spewed out with wicked intent. He was standing directly in front of me, so close that I felt the malice. This was my first encounter with Sergeant Perkins.
This confrontation took place on November 13, 1963 at the Naval Air Station Pensacola, less than one hour into my Navy career. I guess I was a typical college guy reporting for military service. I carried a small leather overnight bag which contained my shaving kit, a few days worth of underwear, and very little else. For the occasion I had on a brightly colored brown, gold, and white pullover sweater that I loved to wear to school on cool autumn days. But my old school days were now left behind on Long Island, along with my family and friends.
Along with several other new recruits, I reported to the Indoctrination Battalion (Indoc for short) early in the evening. In the duty office we received the typical greeting that all new recruits must receive when reporting for military service. There were guys in uniforms who were very busy yelling at us. But I expected this sort of treatment.
I was a former Boy Scout with camp experience. I had two years of mandatory ROTC training at Hofstra College. I also had seen enough war movies to consider myself experienced in military ways. Because of my ROTC training I was also able to determine that guys in uniforms were just cadets. The insignias on their uniforms were not the normal ones worn by officers or enlisted men. The cadets seemed to be just a bunch of fraternity brothers playing soldier. I found out later that they were the senior class cadet officers.
Just when we were presenting our orders and signing in, there was a loud ruckus out in the passageway (for non-Navy types, that’s a hallway). The ruckus seemed to be an endless file of guys, some in civilian clothes and others in coveralls, scurrying down the passageway. There were also more shouts; most of the words were unintelligible.
When a new cadet came into the office, someone yelled “Attention on deck!” I jumped to my best ROTC attention: chin tucked in, arms straight down, and heels clicked together. I realized that this cadet must be special; he had at least five bars on his collar and the other cadet officers were also standing at attention. The five bar cadet officer stated that we could finish checking in later and ordered us to join the guys running down the passageway. When we ran at a normal speed, cadet officers prodded us to proceed a little faster. It seemed that all they wanted to see were certain body parts moving rapidly down the passageway. I complied.
Once outside I formed up with all the other new recruits in columns of three’s. Again, my ROTC experience helped me through this military procedure. More than 80 recruits came to attention in the formation, while uniformed cadets with various numbers of bars on their collars kept shouting orders. Well, they weren’t just yelling orders, some were making personal observations; others were just spurting out obscenities. Such language! This certainly was not the prose I heard in scouting or college. The movies didn’t even use such language. In the early 1960’s, moviegoers still weren’t fully recovered from Clark Gable saying “damn” to poor little Vivien Leigh.
Soon we were marching into the evening darkness. At the time I wasn’t sure where we were going. But for me the destination would turn out to be my own little Twilight Zone. I was just minutes away from meeting Sergeant Perkins.
Soon we were in front of a large building with a covered porch wrapped around the front. A sign stated that it was the mess hall. “Good,” I thought, “I’m getting pretty hungry.” In the dim lighting I could see uniform cadets lined up on both sides of the front entrance. We formed up behind them and waited our turn to enter. We stood at attention as we slowly marched closer to the entrance. Of course the cadet officers kept yelling at us.
When we got close to the entrance, I realized that the cadets were not just walking into the mess hall. Two cadets, one from each side of the entrance, would step forward and turn at the same time; each would then shout something before marching through the entranceway. What are they shouting? I need to know to get in!
I figured the end of their shout was their last name and “Sir.” I was getting closer and closer to the entrance. The first word seemed to be Navy or naval, I wasn’t sure. I believed there was something after that, and before the last name, but what? Eventually I was next, my last chance. What are they shouting? No, I still couldn’t get exactly what they were screaming.
I marched one step forward and turned. The cadet on the other side of the entrance did the same. We were facing a cadet officer standing at attention inside the entrance. The cadet on the left barked first. Than it was my turn. The cadet officer was now looking at me. I bellowed, “Navy Cadet Guisto, Sir!”
Well, I knew that I was in the Navy. I knew I was a cadet. And I knew my last name. It made sense to me. The cadet officer said, “What?” Hopefully, maybe I just had not yelled loud enough. I repeated louder, “Navy Cadet Guisto, Sir!”
“No! No! That’s Navy Aviation Cadet! You got that?” the cadet officer corrected.
“Yes, Sir!”
“Well?” the cadet officer responded impatiently.
“Naviation Cadet Guisto, Sir!” Oh, my god. What did I say?
For the second time the cadet officer said, “What?” He shook his head, but I thought that he was about to wave me through. All of a sudden the firm expression on his face collapsed. His expression was similar to Fay Wray’s when she first sees King Kong. A voice from behind me boomed, “Where do you think your going, Maggot! Get your ass over here!” I complied.
I turned and marched two steps towards the voice and then stopped at attention. I am sure that there were some parts of me that were not shaking, since I was still standing. The globe and anchor insignia on his cap on top of his shaved head left no doubt that I was facing a Marine. But I joined in the Navy! What's a Marine doing here? I didn’t have the slightest idea, but I thought it prudent not to inquire. He moved closer to me. We were face to face, or more accurately, nose to nose. Our noses were not touching; I believe a sheet of Saran Wrap could have fit between them. Then came the memorable question.
“Are you a maggot, Maggot?”
Now, I wasn’t quite sure what a maggot was, but by his expression I knew it was not good to be one. I shouted, “No, Sir!”
He smiled. But of course, if I wasn’t a maggot, why did I answer him? Why was I standing in front of him?
“Are you spastic?”
“No, Sir!” I shouted using the same logic I employed to determine that it wasn’t good to be a maggot.
“Well, can’t you say Navy Aviation Cadet?” he asked, still nose-to-nose.
“Yes, Sir!” I shouted. Then I quickly continued, “Naviation Cadet Guisto, Sir!” Oh my god, not again.
He shook his head and said, “Now, repeat after me! Navy!”
“Navy!”
“Aviation!”
“Aviation!”
“Cadet!”
“Cadet!”
“Now, all together!” he boomed. But he quickly continued before I could start, “If you don’t get it right, I’m going to unscrew your head and….” Well, let me just say that he was going to perform a certain bodily function in my head that many people associate with the number two. I had no doubt that he could do this; my only question was if he was going to turn my head clockwise or counter-clockwise.
“Navy Aviation Cadet Guisto, Sir!” I shouted very slowly. Thank god!
“Keep going, but faster!” he ordered. He turned away. Thank god. We were no longer nose-to-nose.
“Navy Aviation Cadet Guisto, Sir!” I repeated a little faster. I continued, “Navy Aviation Cadet Guisto, Sir!”
From time to time, the Marine would walk up to me and we would be nose-to-nose again. When he was at a distance, I was able to spot his nametag: Sergeant Perkins. Yes, I would remember Sergeant Perkins. I continued, “Navy Aviation Cadet Guisto, Sir!”
I noticed that all the new recruits, the ones in civvies and coveralls, were now inside the mess hall. I also realized that not all of the cadets were shouting “Navy Aviation Cadet.” I could make out that some were saying “Aviation Officer Candidate.” Others were screaming other titles that I couldn’t quite make out.
Oh my god, I don’t think I’m a Navy Aviation Cadet. If I remember correctly, I’m enrolled in some sort of a training program for navigators, not pilots. The pilot program was called NavCad, which must stand for Navy Aviation Cadet. What is the program I joined? What the heck am I? Should I tell Sergeant Perkins that I may not be a Navy Aviation Cadet? What should I do?
I continued repeating, “Navy Aviation Cadet Guisto, Sir!”
Fear took over. What if Sergeant Perkins finds out that I am not a Navy Aviation Cadet? Would he unscrew my head? I raised my hand. The Sergeant looked at me in disbelief. He shook his head. “You’re not in school anymore!” he informed me. He continued in a wearisome manner, “Well, what is your problem now?”
“Sir! I do not believe that I’m a Navy Aviation Cadet, Sir!” I thought if I said “Sir” enough times, it would cover up the fact that I was a complete fool.
He shook his head again, but he seemed to renew his interest in me. “Well, what the hell are you?” When I didn’t answer, he continued, “Don’t you know what you are?” We were nose-to-nose again.
Oh my god, I have to say something. “Sir, I believe it may be stated on my orders, Sir!”
“Do you have your orders?” he said turning away from me.
“Yes, Sir!” I stuttered confidently.
“Well, what does it say?” he asked with his back still towards me.
I fumbled in my back pocket and pulled out my orders. With some difficulty I read my orders. Why can’t I understand my orders? Why are my orders shaking? The only thing on my orders that I could find was “OCAA” which was printed in front of my name.
“Well, I’m waiting!” Sergeant Perkins said impatiently.
“I’m an O-C-A-A, Sir!” I stated almost as a question.
“Do you know what an O-C-A-A is, Maggot?” I’m still a maggot.
“No, Sir!” I said resigned to my fate. Cadets were still entering the mess hall. I do not know how much time had passed, but it seemed like hours.
“Well, you’re an Officer Candidate Airman Apprentice! Can you say that?” We were at Saran Wrap distance from each other again.
“Officer Candidate….” Oh no, what is the rest?
“Officer Candidate Airman Apprentice,” the Sergeant repeated.
“Officer Candidate Airman Apprentice Guisto, Sir!” I was able to mumble slowly. I continued repeating it. As I continued, he moved away from me again. Finally, he returned to me and ordered me to get back in line. But he gave me one last warning about unscrewing my head before he let me go. I wish he didn’t say that.
The cadets on line made plenty of room for me. Maybe being a maggot is infectious. Soon I was next. I marched forward, turned and when it was my turn, I shrieked…. Well, I think “Officer” came out okay. To this day I am not sure what else I screamed. The cadet officer in front on me resumed his Fay Wray impersonation. I froze. I waited. I didn’t have to wait long.
I felt Sergeant Perkins standing by my side. Then he was in front of me; I backed up until two sheets of Saran Wrap could fit between our noses. He barked, “All I want you to do is yell ‘civilian’ and get the hell in there!” I complied.
I screamed “civilian” as loud as I could and entered the mess hall without waiting for the cadet officer to wave me on. Once inside I moved along the cafeteria line like a zombie. I didn’t notice what food was being plopped unto my plate. The plopping stopped when my plate was filled.
When I was through the line one of the cadets, a kindly soul, directed me to where my class was seated. I sat down and pushed some food around in my plate for a while. I had just started to eat, when one of the cadet officers ordered us to go. That was okay, I was no longer hungry.
We formed up again outside the mess hall and marched back to the Indoc. Battalion. All the while the cadet officers were barking around the three-column formation. Soon we were streaming down the passageway again, moving as many of our body parts that we could. I stopped at the duty office to pick up my overnight bag. Since I had already signed the logbook and turned over a copy of my orders, I was able to leave the office without further misfortune. I was told to report to the squad bay room next to the duty office and find an empty bunk.
Once inside, I took off my sweater and hid it in my bag. I promised myself that I would never wear that sweater again. The squad bay was a large open area that had about 100 double bunks. I soon found an empty upper bunk and was thrown some linen, a blanket, and a pillow. Even though I was still in a daze, I realized I was in the middle of complete chaos. From time to time, commands were shouted over the PA system while cadet officers walked through the bay spouting orders.
Most of the recruits were busy making their bunks. Of course the beds had to be made the Navy way. If a bunk wasn’t made the Navy way, a cadet officer would overturn the mattress and the new recruit would end up doing pushups. I didn’t have the slightest idea on how to make up my bunk.
But I was lucky. My bunkmate was a Vietnamese cadet. Since his bunk had already passed inspection, he happily helped me make my bunk the Navy way. His name was Ba, and he had a constant smile on his face.
To my relief, my bunk passed inspection. Even though a cadet officer would occasionally come by and shout in my face, I was slowly coming out of my zombie state. Just when I thought my ordeal was finished for the night, an announcement came over the PA system. “The civilian in the sweater, report to the duty office.” It was Sergeant Perkins.
For a split second, I thought maybe I could get away with it and not report. After all I wasn’t wearing the sweater anymore. But I knew better. Again, resigned to my fate, I slowly moved through the maze of bunks and the chaos in the squad bay. Just when I was about to leave the room, a cadet officer blocked my exit.
“Where do you think you’re going?” he shouted into my face.
“Sergeant Perkins wants me in the duty office, Sir!” I replied without too much of a stutter.
“Not tonight, he doesn’t,” the cadet officer ordered with a slight smile on his face. “It’s lights out. Get back to your bunk!” he commanded. The cadet officer left and the lights went out. I was able to feel my way back to my bunk. Ba told me to sleep on top of sheets so I wouldn’t need to make the bunk up in the morning. I thanked him and climb into the bunk carefully so that I would not mess it up.
I think I may have slept a few minutes that night. I’m not sure. Throughout the night there was a lot cursing, I also heard some weeping and even crying. I can’t say if I was one of the weepers, but I did use some curse words to soothe the night away. I also remembered that I thought strongly about quitting. I wasn’t even sure that I would be allowed to quit, but I decided not to even to try. The main reason was because I knew that I would have to report to Sergeant Perkins. I also recognized that even though I had relatives and friends back home, as a college dropout I had very little else. I guess I can always get my old soda jerk job back at Howard Johnson’s if I had to.
Reveille got us up early the next morning. We were able to take a quick shower. I was glad that I didn’t have to remake my bunk. Soon we were moving our body parts down the passageway again.
It was still dark outside! Once we formed up we had to yell “Good morning, Sir!” a few times to a cadet officer who seemed to be hard of hearing. Once he was satisfied with the decibel level of our greeting, he informed us that six of our shipmates “DORed” over night. I did not know what DORed was, but later I founded out that it was Dropped Out on Request. The six new recruits quit their first night in the Navy.
Again we marched off again in the darkness with several cadet officers snapping around the columns. All the while I kept repeating to myself, “Office Candidate Airman Apprentice Guisto, Sir!”
I know there are some fools who believe that we should use every episode in life, no mattered how horrendous, as a learning experience. Thinking back on my first meeting with Sergeant Perkins, I did learned two things. First, what OCAA stood for. But more importantly, I learned that a “maggot” is superior to a “civilian.” Nothing is lower than a civilian.
But there would also be many more opportunities for me to learn. And I would comply.