I arrived at Lackland AFB at about midnight on the 10th of December. Yes, I was going to spend Christmas in Basic Training. They bused us to the chow hall, where we were given our first meal - breakfast was being served. Oh, man, look at all that food! Bacon and scrambled eggs and french toast! I loaded my plate and sat down to tuck in. . . I was just taking my first bite when someone wearing green with a bunch of stripes and a smokey bear hat came walking through, shouting, "Table one, you have 30 seconds to finish! Table two, you have 60 seconds! Table three, you have 90 seconds!"
Holy shit, sixty seconds to eat all this? I shovel as much as I could down my throat, then stuffed my cheeks with french toast as we were herded out.
It was about two am and we were under the overhang at the RH&T dorms. People were running around wearing green and looking military. None of us did. We looked like shit compared to them. sometimes someone yelled at us, we could see there was some confusion, as if no one expected us to be there. We were in formation, staring at a brick wall, not allowed to turn our heads to look around. There was a low fog hanging about 2 feet off the ground to a height of about 4 feet. Eerie. We had been called to attention and told to pick up our bags several times, then put them down again.
Then suddenly a booming voice from behind us echoed off the roof above us with an authoritarian tone that commanded your attention. "My name is Technical Sergeant Madden! You people have fucked up my holiday! I'm gonna fuck up yours!"
Holy shit, sixty seconds to eat all this? I shovel as much as I could down my throat, then stuffed my cheeks with french toast as we were herded out.
It was about two am and we were under the overhang at the RH&T dorms. People were running around wearing green and looking military. None of us did. We looked like shit compared to them. sometimes someone yelled at us, we could see there was some confusion, as if no one expected us to be there. We were in formation, staring at a brick wall, not allowed to turn our heads to look around. There was a low fog hanging about 2 feet off the ground to a height of about 4 feet. Eerie. We had been called to attention and told to pick up our bags several times, then put them down again.
Then suddenly a booming voice from behind us echoed off the roof above us with an authoritarian tone that commanded your attention. "My name is Technical Sergeant Madden! You people have fucked up my holiday! I'm gonna fuck up yours!"
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