As I have already said, my first taste of “military life” began at a small Air National Guard site in Connecticut, and continued on a frigidly cold November morning on Otis Air Force Base, Mass., when our four stripe Section NCO, who, faced with the need to train 15 radio operators took us outside on a 22-degree November day and told us to “get lost” – by which he meant that we should leave the radio shack, but stay in the squadron area in case he was told to send one of us over to the orderly room.

How the hell do you do “get lost” like that?

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