Memories of an ROTC Cadet

Memories of an ROTC Cadet Who Never Quite Made It…

Sometime in my senior year of high school I got it into my head that I wanted to join the military. But I didn’t want to just enlist. I had plans, you see. I wanted to go to college! I wanted to see the world! I wanted to do things! Applying for several ROTC scholarships seemed a brilliant thing to do so I gathered together the appropriate applications for the Army, Air Force and Navy and set to work, filling each one out. The Air Force rejected me flat out as the math scores on my SAT tests were far too low. But the Army and the Navy were interested and so I began a series of physical tests as well to gauge my health and fitness. When everything was finally in, I was offered a three-year Army ROTC scholarship and a four-year Navy scholarship with the Marines option.

Then I saw a documentary on Paris Island.

I accepted the Army ROTC scholarship.

The next three years then proved many an opportunity for me to find out just how unsuited I was for the military…

Why One Should Look Before One Leaps…

Spring Camp was always a joy for me, and I say that sarcastically. Fortunately though, I found a way to enjoy myself by becoming my college battalion’s recorder. That meant that while everyone else had a heck of a time tossing fake grenades, low-crawling through blackberry bushes and running screaming through the woods with fake M-16s, I took the pictures.

That didn’t mean I always escaped unscathed from certain activities however. Spring Camp was how I spent my sacred week of spring vacation each year for two years. The cadets reported for “duty” at Fort Lewis, Washington and then spent a grueling week double-timing it everywhere, getting yelled at and eating positively awful food. I usually lost a good ten pounds or so during those five days.

One of the first things I learned at Spring Camp was how to run like a madwoman whenever someone yelled, “Incoming!” I was told that the squad leader would immediately shout a direction and how far to run and that’s what we would all do, but you know, it’s easier said than done. So about the second day I’m trooping along after my little squad and we’re practicing some arcane thing called “Squad in the Defense”. We are in the woods, somewhere near a road where evil senior cadets are patrolling about in a jeep, armed with AK-47s and blanks. We’re standing in a loose circle, discussing our next plan of action when somebody shouts, “Incoming!” Immediately our squad leader shouted something to the effect of, “Three o’clock, 20 meters!”

First of all, we’re all facing different directions and second of all, how far is a meter? So I just threw up my arms, yelled and ran. I happened to be carrying my camera around my neck – a nice-sized Nikon that smacked repeatedly against my chest as I raced blindly through bushes. I am pretty sure I ran toward the five o’clock position for a quarter of a mile before I suddenly plunged into a hidden foxhole. I remember just laying there, staring glassy-eyed up at the sky and groaning slightly.

“Casualty report!” I heard somewhere close by.

“Where’s Mathews?” I heard someone else ask.

“Down here…” I replied.

“Were you wounded? How’s your equipment? Did you fire any ammo?” Ah, this would be that thing they call an ACE report – ammo, casualties and equipment.

“I’m in a hole, I lost my ammo and my camera is uh… here…”

Oh right, like the camera mattered. Then I looked up again and saw about six faces peering down at me. I waved back and eventually got helped out. It turns out I had run the furthest and the fastest for once.

Why One Should Not Wear Jewelry While In Uniform

Ever seen a platoon of soldiers staring at the ground as they traverse a length of field in a long line? That’s called a police call and they’re policing the field, looking for any refuse or whatever that shouldn’t be there – often they’re picking up brass and unfired ammunition – or at least that’s what a police call is good for.

I commanded my squad to do that once. You see, I had lost one of my great big silver hoop earrings… And yes, I did a lot of pushups after I had to explain to the captain watching us just why I had my soldiers doing what they were doing.

Why One Should Wait For The Sergeant’s Okay…

Okay. So you’re a female, you’re out in the middle of nowhere with a battalion of cadets comprised of 30 virile and studly males and three gawping females. And you have GOT to go to the bathroom. What do you do? Why that’s easy. You break out of formation, jog up to the nearest commissioned officer and look at him plaintively before whispering your little problem into his ear.

“Company, halt!” Everybody comes to a dead stop.

“Fifteen minute break! Men, if you have hygienic business to conduct please turn toward the west. Females, please climb that hill over there, go to the other side and conduct your business. Do not return until the sergeant says it’s safe to do so.”

So away go the sergeant (who is female as well) and the three females while the guys turn around and begin to do what they need to do. I get over the hill first, being in great need of relief. Now here is an important note: if you’re going to pee on a hill, face uphill, not downhill or at least try to find a flat surface or you’ll get a very warm surprise.

As it was, I finished my business first and began to pace around, waiting impatiently. The sergeant got busy doing something, so I finally climbed the top of the hill and looked down. I gasped. Before me stood thirty men, their backs all to me, all in the same position as they stared toward the horizon and did their thing. It was some sort of surreal formation to my surprised mind’s eye and I ducked back down the other side of the hill and sat beside the sergeant.

“They’re not ready yet,” was all I could say.

Why One Should Remember Important Commands Like “Halt!”

My second and last Spring Camp started off on a most interesting note. I had just been dropped off at our rendezvous point by my folks and was feeling rather spooked. The senior cadets were racing about, shouting commands while the junior cadets all stared at each other, wondering how they might escape the week’s promised torture.

“You! Mathews! See that squad? March them!”

I dropped my duffel bag and gaped at the cadet who shouted at me as I pointed to my chest and then stared around, trying to find the squad in question. I found them, standing stiffly at attention, the whites of their eyes flashing in the noonday sun.

I can do this, I thought to myself as I trudged on over and stood before the cadets. I am about to open my mouth and have them turn right when another senior cadet strides up to me and starts barking out questions.

“What are you going to command? Where are you going to take them? Why are you staring at me? Which direction are you going to point them? Why haven’t you answered me?”

My brain went completely blank.

“Uh… squad! Right, face!”

Oooo, I did it.

“Forward, march!”

Ooo, they’re obeying me and they’re marching. I was feeling rather proud of myself at that moment until I realized something rather important. They were marching straight toward a wall.

“Well cadet! What are you going to dooooo?” The senior cadet yelled out.

“Stop!” I shouted.

They kept marching.

“Whoa!” I shouted again.

They still kept marching.

“Nooo!” I wailed.

They marched directly into the wall and proceeded to fall all over each other just I shouted,

“Halt!”

Too little, too late. I think I did about fifty pushups for that little mental blank out.