Tuesday, March 30, 2004

'Ten Hut - Recruitment Stories - A Comparison

After reading Rainbough Phillips’ reminisces of being recruited for military service, I am inspired to share my story about enlisting in the U.S. Navy.

Unlike Rainbough’s experience in being recruited to volunteer, which in the end she did not do, I enlisted in the Navy, on a whim.  She lists a variety of reasons for her consideration of joining up, of which I can say only one applied to myself.  The desire to improve my self discipline, at least in regards to dealing with individuals in authority over me.  What follows, is my enlistment story.

On December 27, 1979 I awoke without a headache for the first time in two weeks.  The headache was the result of a twenty-three day micro dot binge.  Taking increasing doses during those twenty-three days did nothing to alleviate my headache, which commenced on the sixteenth day, so on the twenty-fourth day I decided to take a break from tripping away my days.

During the two weeks that this headache lingered, I carried on with my other normal activities, reading the newspaper and books, hitchhiking around West Michigan, and consuming other less mind altering drugs.  So, on December 27th, 1979, with no headache, and a joint in my pocket I hitchhiked into town from the beach house where I was living.  When I arrived in town, I strolled by the Naval Recruiting Office, which I had passed many times before, and, as I looked in the window, finding the office empty of potential volunteers, I wandered in.

When I walked in, a First Class Petty Officer greeted me and I amicably returned his greeting.  I immediately then asked what an individual had to do to join the Navy.  The First Class was more than willing to provide me with this information and I listened attentively.  Once he completed his rote delivery, I inquired as to how soon someone could make this happen.  I was informed that I would have to answer some questions to determine this, so I told the First Class to fire away with his questions.  I fended off the questions rather simply, but I was stopped by one question.  That question was “Have you ever smoked pot, and if so, how often and how long ago?” I answered this question with my own question.  “What answer would prevent someone from enlisting immediately?” The answer to my question was “If you have smoked pot more than once and/or have done so recently.” My answer, which was a bald faced lie, was, “I’ve only smoked pot once, six months or so ago.” An answer of course which would give me the green light for immediate enlistment.

Once that question was out of the way, I didn’t even give the Recruiter a chance to ask me if I was interested in enlisting.  I told him to get the papers together because I was ready to join up.  I think it shocked him, because he asked me at least a half-a-dozen times if I was certain about this.  I said “Yes,” every time. So, we took care of the paperwork that needed to be completed at the recruiting office and before I walked out of the door, I had a bus ticket in my hand which would get me to the Detroit recruit processing center, which at that time was known by the acronym AAFEES.  The bus ticket was for the day of December 28, 1979.

I hadn’t seen my parents in six months or so, so after walking out of the Recruiters office, I hitchhiked to their house and sprung the news on them.  At the time, I wasn’t sure if they were happy or disappointed about my quick decision.  Even as they pressed me as to my certainty in regards to joining up, I think they were breathing a sigh of relief because of their incessant worry about their adventurous son.  The final comment from my Dad, as I walked out of their house, was, “John, the military will either make a man out of you, or a bum.” It didn’t make me a bum.

Anyway, the morning of December 28, 1979 arrives and I hitchhike to the bus station and hop on the 7:30 Greyhound to Detroit.  I arrive at the AAFEES station with a slew of other neer-do-wells, ship shape appearing sailor wannabes, and other individuals.  Immediately upon arrival, we are herded together and asked if any of those present want to take a test for special duty positions.  I raised my hand, not having come to understand that one should never volunteer.  So I take the test mentioned by Rainbough, the ASVAB, and pass with flying colors.  Meaning, there is a big push to induce to enlist for six years, rather than four, so I can be part of the Navy’s nuke program.  No matter how many times I declined this “honor,” they always asked me one more time.  I was even taken aside privately, into the AAFEES station commander’s office, for some personal cajoling and offers of recruitment bonuses, in order to encourage me to sign for six rather than four years.  I declined, which, I don’t think made them happy, because I was then assigned to some menial bathroom cleaning while the rest of the hopefuls who hadn’t tested sat around joking and smoking.

By now, it’s six o’clock at night and I’m hungry, tired, and a bit ticked off, wondering what’s in store next.  What was next, was a mass enlistment ceremony, about 100 recruits, followed by a cheap sandwich and a pop, and then we were all bussed to a hotel while being lectured by a Second Class Petty Officer about how we were now government property.  Because we were now government property, and no longer individuals, according to the Petty Officer, we were not supposed to leave the hotel until the next morning when some other Petty Officer would come aknocking at our door.

Fine.  I can crash hard, I think, and wait for whatever comes tomorrow.  So I sack out on the bed.  About an hour later, it’s now 9 P.M. or so, a knock sounds at my door, so I answer it.  Imagine my surprise when I see a young man standing there who whips out a sheet of blotter acid, Snoopies, and asks if I want to buy a few hits prior to being wholly consumed by boot camp.  Recalling my recent relief from my two week headache, I declined, but I didn’t walk away empty handed.  I scored what I thought would be my last joint before 8 weeks of boot camp.  Later, while in boot camp, I would find out this necessarily wouldn’t be the last, but that’s another story.

The next morning, December 29, 1979, at 0600 hours, sure enough there is a knock on my door, and I’m gathered up, along with the rest of the recruits, and put on a train for Chicago, Illinois.  At 2100 hours, I arrive at the Great Lakes Naval Training Center for boot camp.  So, in just over forty-eight hours I went from being a wild and raucous individual, a civilian, to a Navy recruit, wholly owned by the United States government.  I wouldn’t have said it then, but I do now, it was a good experience, for me.

Posted by John Venlet on 03/30 at 09:49 AM
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