My first taste of military life – Part 3

Not only did I waste well over a month climbing old poles, and doing nothing to learn my job as a radio operator, but when we got all those wires strung they stuck me at the gate to the radar site in an old OD Army uniform, and with an unloaded carbine, where I was charged with the vitally important duty of controlling entry and exit from a radar site that had been wide open to anyone who cared to wander into it for many long years.

Ah, well! Nothing lasts forever, so we did at last find ourselves transported in our own old, beat up, 6-by-6 trucks to Otis Air Force Base in Massachusetts, where we moved into a set of ancient World War II barracks, and everyone breathed a sigh in the belief that at last our training would begin.

I will admit that they did issue us blue uniforms at last, and even Air Force style fatigues, but it was a very cold November, and they forgot to add blue overcoats or fatigue jackets. Nevertheless, the 15 of us, who were supposed to be radio operators, were herded into a jerry-rigged radio shack of sorts and actually saw a radio for the first time – and even a key for transmitting Morse code.

However, the only “training” we got was when our section NCO introduced us to a bird colonel from some headquarters or other, who asked each of us how fast he could transmit and receive Morse code.

I don’t think our answers thrilled the poor guy. Zeros are not exciting answers.

However, the very next day our four striper Section NCO called us all together in the 22 degree weather outside the radio shack and gave us all a stirring message. It went like this:

“OK, youse guys. Listen up. What I gotta tell ya iz important.

“First of all, there ain’t room in the buildin’ for alla ya, so we gotta do somethin’ about that. An here’s what we gonna do: First of all, I want youse all to get lost. BUT! You gotta do it in the right way.

“What’s the right way? Get lost. Stay outta the radio hut. AND! Stay in the squadron area. And don’t go inna barracks because if you do some officer is gonna catch you in there and put you on KP for loafin’ on duty in da barracks.

“But! Don’t go outta the squadron area, because if they call over here from the orderly room and ask for ya, we gotta be able ta find ya!

“GOT IT?” he asked us, eying us with a highly intelligent frown.

“Awright. G’wan. Get lost! And remember what I said. Stay inna squadron area.”

Next week: Getting lost.