A story of duty, loyalty, and ultimately, survival

Fort Benning, July 1966

The first couple weeks of basic the new soldiers are introduced to the singular world of military life. Not only does each soldier have to look and act the part but so do all physical things that interact with the soldier. All brass, shoes, and boots must display at all appropriate times a shine that defies logic since the first time one wears that item the hours spent placing it in proper form vanish as if they never occurred but, to be sure, will be repeated again and again.

The soldier’s bunks and foot lockers must be maintained in a specified manner, and no deviations are accepted. The two-story wooden barracks occupied by the Fifth Platoon might as well be a cathedral because at times of inspection one can only pray that the DI does not find even one tiny flaw in the cleanliness of the commodes, showers, and especially the waxed floors. One can easily shave using the floors as a substitute mirror and eat off the floors at inspection time. But if not flawless, there is hell to pay, and the entire platoon pays the price.

Unlike uniforms and other standard issue items, sleep is not something the Army issues to basic trainees. By the time one attends to personal and platoon responsibilities and falls exhausted into one’s bunk, the reality of an 0400 reveille substitutes for the nightmare that the soldier would have but for the exhaustion that robs their ability to dream.