The Poet : part 2 by thadeusz

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At the end of the fourth week of plebe training, all the plebes were led to the clothing hall. The purpose of this trip was to get the other pieces of our uniform, the elements we would wear in classrooms and for parades. As soon as we entered the clothing hall, the regular cadets and the ECP cadets were separated. Sam went one way and I went another. We all got our permanent uniform which replaced the plebe uniform, but these uniforms were no longer the same.

I could see from far away that Sam got now a comfortable student uniform which would have fitted a free college student. He now was wearing a uniform with a beret to be worn on top of the head and a blue and red jacket with shoulder straps for the ceremonies. His shoes were regular black shoes. He then disappeared. He told me later that he had been sent to one of the nice rooms I had admired during my "tour", on my first day in BMAJC.

I, as an ECP cadet, got firstly green military undies. MSG Boldon, who was present, told us to take off all our plebe clothes immediately. We were all naked but the MSG added:
"You are going to become soldiers and as such you must learn to be in Adam’s costume with your pears."
He then told us to start to put on our Army clothes, starting with the undies. I can say now that these regulation undies are not at all as comfortable as the Army claims they are and I understand why so many soldiers buy discreetly on their own.
After that we got the sports uniform: a black long short with "ARMY" in white letters on the bottom of the left leg, and a grey T-shirt with "ARMY" in black on it, in the front. On top of this we got a large yellow belt "to be visible at night", said MSG Boldon.
Then, each of us received long green socks and a pair of Army sport shoes, black with yellow markings and yellow laces. I wondered why we could not keep our plebe sport shoes. I thought that it might be because they wanted us to get a real complete Army initial kit !
I was confirmed in this idea when MSG Boldon told us to get dressed and spoke as follows as soon as each of the 28 ECP cadet was dressed:
"You are now all soldiers and your rank is Private. Each of you looks like a Privates, but something is missing since you are in fact Recruits."
He went on shouting in the very military way I had heard when I was with my father, the Colonel :
"FALL IN. LINE UP. COLUMN OF TWO. FORWARD, MARCH."
And that’s how I started to march, back to the Barber’s room.

I had now noticed that some ECP second year cadets served as corporals and one of them as sergeant for our group. SGT Garringer, the guy I had insulted, was our cadet Sergeant. He was now in charge of our group and he wanted to take his revenge. As soon as we were in the Barber’s room, he pushed me as the first Recruit in one of the two chairs. There, I realized that I would get an induction cut and that my head would be completely shorn once more. This time, the CPL barber was much more rapid than the previous time. He caped me and then briskly started to attack what was left of my hair. He used clippers without guard and pushed my head forward, chin on my new ARMY T-shirt, and shaved everything from front to neck. He rapidly turned my head to the left, pushed it to the side with my ear on my shoulder and shaved my right side. He then repeated this with the other side. I think that in 1 minute or at most in 90 seconds, he was done and I had a baldy. He had acted brutally, which was probably normal since he was a CPL and I was only a PVT, and more: only a lawly Recruit.
When the CPL was done with my head, he gave me a push in the back indicating that I should leave the chair for another Recruit. I wanted to go and start a line of recruits near the door, but SGT Garringer, who was approximately my age, interrupted me with what he tried to make a booming (and military) voice:
"Recruit Thorndel, take the broom in the corner of the room and start cleaning that pile of messy hair."

That’s how I started my life as a recruit: cleaning the Barber’s room. Cadet SGT Garringer, with the full authority of a real SGT, kept shouting:
"Recruit Thorndel, FASTER."
And either I did not reply, or I said "Aye, Sir" as I had heard Recruits reply to booming sergeants near our house, in the camp where my father was a king !

When all the ECP cadets, sorry the Recruits, had received their baldy and when my cleaning job was done, I joined the now long line of Recruits. SGT Garringer marched us then back to the clothing hall.

There we received a big bag with the rest of our kit. The rest of our Army uniform !

We first received an Army tracksuit, jacket and pants, marked in the same way as our sport uniform.

Tan T-shirts and three identical BDUs were added to our bag. For this we also received a pair of tanned boots. MSG Boldon explained to us that our trousers had always to be tucked in our boots and that our boots had to be perfectly clean. We learned that we were supposed to wear this uniform whenever we were studying, in class or in our room. We were also supposed to be in BDU during our meals and our rest hours ! This part of our kit was completed with a usual Army cap.

Finally, we received our parade and outing uniform : our class A green uniform (still green in my time!). This consisted of a green shirt, a black tie, a green jacket and tie, and a black beret with a blue badge on it, but without insignia since we were only, as SGT Garringer said, "lawly scrub Recruits" and our future rank was still unknown ! This uniform had to be worn with black Army regulation boots and of course our trousers had to be tucked in the boots !

We now each had a big Army bag with our full kit, or nearly full: we also received a uniform raincoat which we were told to put on immediately ! Before taking this big and heavy bag in our arms, we received a small scholarly rucksack, to be put on our back immediately. This rucksack was meant to carry our school books and notebooks.

MSG Boldon again took command and led us to our rooms. I had thought that we would stay in nice rooms like the one I had seen during my first day "visit". That was not the case. We were marched towards another building looking very much like the barracks I had seen in the camp where I had lived with my parents. Instead of the nice white building with a roof in red tiles, we reached a sort of warehouse with metal sides and roof. I was not really surprised when I saw the inside : it really matched the outside.

I was led to a relatively large room with 3 double metal bunks and 6 cupboards. There was also one single table. Next to that room, there was a shower room to be used by 6 cadets simultaneously. (Cadet) SGT Garringer, who had been appointed to supervise our group under MSG Boldon’s leadership, told the six (Cadets) Recruit who were assigned to this room that the table should be used to fold properly our clothes in order to store them in our cupboard, or to do other menial tasks such as cleaning perfectly our rangers. There was no chair, since we were in the Army now, and we simply had to sit on our bed. The covers of these beds were clean but of a sad brownish color. I felt depressed, but I decided not to show it to the others. In any case, Garringer, who had decided to use me as a punching ball, shouted:
"Recruit Thorndel, you are in charge of cleaning this room for this week." And then he left the room, abruptly closing the door.

I looked at my new clothes and at my comrades: the worst had happened. I looked like a soldier, probably because I was now a cadet soldier thanks to my father’s decision to enrol me as an ECP Cadet. But I was not tamed yet and I still thought of several methods to get free again. I knew I was in the Army ROTC, but I still hoped that there would be a way for me to avoid staying there, and certainly not having to stay in the Army ! So, I tried to find ways to disobey without being punished too harshly and thus being expelled from the ECP program.

Garringer (I know, I should call him respectfully "SGT Garringer or CADET SGT Garringer at least", but that was too much for me), Cadet Garringer thus was in charge of the military education of our group of 6 and of another group occupying the next room. He was more or less a bully, as a real SGT Instructor could be, but he was also explaining very well what we had to do. He told us all about Military etiquette, about the rank structure and the way we should address our superiors. We had learned as plebes how to march and how to salute, but not the other details, including the dress code. Cadet SGT Garringer also showed us how to fold our clothes in order to occupy the least possible space in our cupboard, and thus how to have a perfectly well organized cupboard. Another lesson was devoted to the best way to wear our boots without having scars, thus how to make comfortable shoes of these dreadful things (something I had already learned at home). The clean shoes had to be stored neatly below our bed, on the left side for those occupying the "upper deck" (which was now my case) and on the right side for those sleeping on the lower bed.

During our second day as ECP cadets, we were told to put on our Class A uniform and to go, one after the other, to the office of LT Kent who was officially in charge of our ROTC education. We went in groups of 6 and I could see that my roommates, when they came out of the LT’s office, looked slightly changed. When it was my turn to be called, and "Recruit Thorndel" was the last of this group to be called because of the alphabetical order, I entered the LT’s office and saluted as I had been told, took my beret off and remained in the position of attention.
The LT knew my situation and said so very calmly:
"Thorndel, your file shows that you don’t really want to join the military. Nevertheless, your father enroled you and you stayed here as a plebe. Raise your right hand and repeat the oath after me."
Stupidly I did what he said and he concluded:
"Congratulations. You are thus definitely an ECP Cadet and for the time being an Army Recruit."
He then handed me a small object I did not identify and continued "This is your dog tags, created on the basis of the data your father gave us. Put this chain immediately around your neck." I obeyed this order and I heard the LT say:
"Now, you are completely kitted as a member of the military. Congratulations PVT Thorndel. You are now an ECP cadet and you have a military obligation of 5 years active duty and 3 years reserve duty after graduation. But you know all that. DISMISS."
I was in a state of shock and I did not know anything about my obligation, but not knowing what else I could do, I obeyed. I made an about turn and left this office, feeling different. I understood now why my comrades looked changed: we had taken the oath of allegiance and received our dog tags ! We were full time soldiers even if we thought we were still college students.

When I came back to my "nice" room, I realized that I had been completely licked and that I was now in the military for what appeared to be a great many years. There was nothing I could do to get free, to become a plain civilian again, unless I wanted to risk having a Dishonorable Discharge for ever and ever ! I think it was at this moment that I decided to do my best to avoid further chores, to behave as well as I could in order to survive this period as well as possible. In any case, there was nothing better for me to do.

My roommates and I became rapidly good friends. We came from different backgrounds. Mike and Peter came from a military family, like me. The difference was that they both wanted to join the military and that becoming an ECP Cadet was a good approach for them. Mike’s father was a Captain and Peter’s father was a Sergeant. They both were supported by their families. Matthew and Robert came from civilian families. But there were differences : for Matthew, becoming an Army officer was a choice that his parents disapproved of. They had opposed his attempts to go to West Point. Nevertheless they had decided to help him by paying the high fee required by BMAJC, but only for two years. This explained why he was in ECP with me. Robert on the contrary did not really want to become an Army officer, but he was the fourth son of the family, and there were also 2 sisters. His parents had convinced him that joining the military through ECP would provide him with an education and a job. He reluctantly accepted and was more or less on my side. Pedro was our latino friend. He wanted to reach a good position in the society, better than his parents’ position. He had assumed that going to the Army as an officer would give him this better position since he was convinced that there was no racism in the Army. I knew, having seen it with my father’s officers, that this was not the case but I chose to keep quiet: it was too late in any case. Pedro had tried to join West Point, but he had not been admitted because of some non mentioned quotas. One year later he tried to get a 4 year ROTC scholarship, but he only got a 2 year one as ECP cadet. He was the oldest cadet of our group and I was the youngest one, not even 18 !

We worked hard, learning the ropes of our new "job". We discovered the bathroom with 6 cold water showers and 12 washbasins. There were also two huge study halls with 20 tables each and as many seats: that was the place where the whole group of ECP cadets would be told to sit and study outside classes, not in our own rooms like Sam and the other "normal" Cadets would do. We also learned to use the coin laundry machine and the electric irons : our clothes had to be perfectly cleaned and pressed, and we had to do this job by ourselves, not like the other cadets who could leave it to the College employees. Finally, we learned that "for technical reasons" we were allowed to have our meals in the same big mess hall as the other Cadets, but simultaneously we were told that we were not to eat or speak with them outside of our free time. There was a special procedure for us: we had to take our food on a tray, bring it to our table and stand there in the position of attention until one of the real NCOs said "Be seated and eat, Cadets". The Cadet NCOs had to respect the same rules. This was by the way, one of the rare moments when we were called Cadets and not Recruits.

Cadet Sergeant Garringer did not forget his "punching ball" (that’s me) during one second of this first week, and I tried to perfectly obey all his orders: he was doing me an injustice but I had no choice if I hoped, one day, to live in peace. When our first Saturday arrived, we had some free time and I did not want to take any risk: I had decided to go to the barber. I suggested this as "Saturday activity" to my roommates. Robert came with me because he feared, like me, SGT Garringer and Pedro joined us because he considered that as "our duty".

There was only one barber present, a "real" Corporal. He was the same as the Corporal who had inflicted me with my first BMAJC haircut. I was the first of our group to sit in the barber’s chair. He recognized me, despite my uniform and asked:
"What do you want, recruit ?"
"A refreshment of my baldy, please CPL".
"Are you willing to be shaved now, Recruit, or do I have to strap you again ?"
"I am perfectly willing, Corporal"
He started to put foam on my head and continued the conversation:
"Apparently you are happy now to be in the military."
"Certainly not Corporal"
"You don’t like your uniform ?"
"No, in fact I hate it."
"And you want to become an officer ?"
"My father did not leave me any other choice, CPL"
"And you want me, who really joined by choice, to obey you one day ?"
"Certainly, CPL, because you know the rules of the hierarchy. One day, you will still be a simple Corporal while I will be a 2nd LT."
The barber looked at me and said:
"You are still a rebel and as long as I can, I will strap you like the first time."
He then ordered Robert and Pedro to help him fix the straps despite their objections. He continued by taking all the foam off my head, without shaving it. He then shaved me with an old fashioned razor and cold water. He pushed, pulled and turned my head furiously and inflicted me some small wounds. Finally he decided that he was done and that he was ready to shave another Recruit. He unstrapped me and told me to leave his room.

I went back to our room, in the ECP building, and Garringer was there. I saluted him but he forgot to render the salute: he was too busy to look at my head. Finally he said:
"Thorndel, you got your baldy refreshed ?"
It was the first time he called me by my name and not in a military way, but I simply replied:
"Yes, Sergeant. Anything wrong with that ?"
"Certainly not. You did well. But the CPL barber more or less butchered you. You can rest today, as of tomorrow you are on kitchen duty when you are not in classes or in study hours. DISMISS."
There I saluted again and he replied in a very dignified way.

This trend continued week after week. Every Saturday I went to the barber with Robert and Pedro, the barber accepted to shave me with a razor and foam and when I was done I went to Garringer and asked him what he wanted me to do. He always had a nice set of chores for me to do during the coming week and I tried to accomplish them as well as possible. I realized after two months that I was nearly never punished anymore for having badly accomplished my task.

I also had time to go out of the institution and have a walk through the city. I had very little money despite my small pay, Sam had more and we shared. We usually went to town for one or two hours, the maximum allowed. We walked, discussed about our courses and we finished by having a drink (coffee or coke, not alcohol which was strictly forbidden)

MSG Boldon checked if we behave well as Recruits, with the help of Cadet SGT Garringer for our group and the neighbouring one, and with the help of two other Cadets SGT for the other groups. LT Kent supervised the way we studied.

I did not like what I had to study, since the Colonel, my hated father, had enrolled me in courses intended to prepare me to graduate with a major in engineering and a minor in mathematics. I intended to change that as soon as I turned 18, but in the meantime, since I could not avoid it, I studied as well as I could. That implied that I spent more time in our big study hall, at the table which had been assigned to me. I tried to combine that with the time needed for my numerous chores (more than other Cadet Recruits) since I knew that Garringer would punish me severely if I neglected my duties !

After a few weeks, Pedro decided to copy the other Recruits of our room: he stopped going every week to the Barber, asking for a new induction cut, but Robert and I kept going. We thus remained with a neat baldy (expensive by the way) and were looked at whenever we went out for a Saturday afternoon walk in the city, with Sam who was now friends with both of us.

I worked as well as I could in class, in spite of the fact that I hated the subjects my father, "the Colonel", had chosen for me. I also tried to do my best for Military training and ROTC classes since I had realized that I could no longer escape that.

November 3rd was my birthday: I was now 18 years of age and no longer a minor. I asked for an interview with LT Kent and I got an appointment rather rapidly. I entered his office, saluted according to the rules, took the position of attention and waited for him to question me: that was the procedure we had been told we had to follow. The LT kept reading a file during a few minutes and then suddenly said:
"At ease Recruit. I know that you don’t like the fact that you are now in the military, and for a long period, but you took the oath so it can no longer be changed. Do you have anything else to tell me, something important enough to bother me while I am working and you are supposed to do some chores ?"
"Sir, this Recruit has realized that he cannot change his military status, so he has decided to do his best during the period during which he has to serve in the Army. He even intends to do it in an excellent way, if he can. But there is something else, Sir."
"I am pleased to hear about your new intentions. MSG Boldon made a very positive report about you and Cadet SGT Garringer told me that you accomplish all your chores correctly. What else is puzzling you enough to disturb your officer ?"
"Sir, my father has enrolled me in courses which are supposed to prepare me for a Major in engineering, but I don’t like engineering and I would rather study Literature in order to later become an author and a teacher if I can, once I am released from my military duties. So now that I am no longer a minor, I would like to change courses, Sir."
"That’s interesting, Recruit Thorndel, but Cadets of BMAJC can only change their choices until September 15. You are more than one month late and nothing can be changed for you. Moreover, you are here to get an Associate degree and the policy of BMAJC is to let the Cadets, or their parents if they are minors, choose a packet of courses for the whole degree. That’s why the Cadets have some time to ‘try’ the courses they chose. Your father, Colonel Thorndel, chose in your place since you were still a minor. So you will have to stick to Engineering till the end of next year. I remind you that if you don’t get your Associate degree, you will not get your commission and you will have to serve your 5 years as Private."
"I understand, Sir. I don’t like it but I will also do my best."
"Recruit Thorndel, there is one thing I can do to help you. But it will require more time in the military. Do you want to hear about it ?"
"Sir, YES Sir" was my shouted answer.
"Your father selected for you, as soon as you get your commission, a regiment close to a Technical Institute where you could get your Bachelor degree in Engineering. But they don’t teach literature in that Institute. If you are ready for that, I can still change your future regiment provided you accept to serve 8 years active duty instead of 5 years active duty and 3 years in the reserve. Are you ready for that ?"
"Yes Sir, I would like a regiment close to Boston University where I could study what I really want."
"That’s OK with me, provided you sign this form."
I signed and the LT told me then:
"I will simply add to your contract that as soon as you are commissioned as 2nd LT, you will be assigned to Fort Devens Army Base, in Massachusetts. This Base is close to Boston, and thus to Boston University. This will enable you to study further in that university famous for its English department. Let me remind you that you must nevertheless get a complete Bachelor degree not later than three years after getting your commission. DISMISS now."

I came out of the LT’s office, not realizing that I had committed myself for 8 full years in the Army. I was simply pleased because I would be able to study literature at Boston University.

In any case, after this "incident", Garringer doubled my dose of chores and I continued to clean, clean and clean since there was nothing I could do to avoid it. I also took great care to keep my baldy. Pedro and Robert had abandoned this habit because it was not "really interesting to go out in town with such a haircut." Cadet SGT Garringer kept checking my haircut every Saturday and gave me every Saturday then his long list of chores for the week. It was not fair, but what could I do ? I also wrote a letter to my former English teacher mentioning my new study possibilities and he promised to get me a place in Boston University.

At the end of November came Thanksgiving : all normal cadets had a leave, but we, ECP Cadets, had to go to an Army camp to finalize our recruit training. We had to live in tents, with cold showers only (cold water also to shave) and Army rations. We spent our time doing all kinds of military exercises. There were no chores during this short period. To my great surprise, I did not completely dislike this Army life.

At the end of our "Thanksgiving Army period", the Colonel commanding the camp where we were, came in front of us and made a short speech. The essence of this speech was that we were no longer Recruits but real soldiers of the US Army. Then came the surprise. LT Kent gave us our new ranks. Most of us were now PFC. Poor Pedro remained a PVT "because he did not shave his head properly" and I was promoted, to my great surprise, to CPL and as such chief of our room. We received our new stripes and the PVTs and PFCs were told that they had to properly salute the new CPLs (one per room). Cadet SGT Garringer came towards me and congratulated me:
"You can call me Roy as of now : we are both ECP Cadets and you will be 2nd LT just one year after me. By the way, do you know why you were chosen as CPL for your room ?"
"No SGT, hem No Roy."
"Very simple: you were the only one to keep your baldy till the end. And you obeyed perfectly all my nasty orders without objecting ! You can now choose a nicer, but still military, haircut."

Later, I spoke with Pedro who told me:
"They forced me to remain a stupid PVT because I am a latino. I hate them and this Army also."
"Pedro, you are in the Army for 5 more years, you will be soon promoted and in two years you will be 2nd LT. So it cannot be too bad."
"F**ck the Army, they betrayed me," was his answer and he left, moaning and nearly crying.

After that, I started to change my haircut. I had not cut my hair just before our Army camp, nor did I get a haircut during the camp. I thus had a little bit of hair to cut when we came back to BMAJC and it took me a certain time to have a proper haircut. It was nearly completely finished for Christmas. The CPL Barber helped me a lot. Every week he gave me an "appropriate" haircut. He kept the sides below the ears completely clean of hair. That meant that each time I visited him, he started by drawing with his small clippers a neat line just above my ears. He then shaved everything below that line, pushing, pulling and turning my head as usual. He then made another line around the top of my head, just at the place which was covered by the Army cap and the Beret. He used clippers with guards to taper my hair below this second line : this was much better than during my baldy period and also that the haircut I had just after my first haircut in BMAJC. On the top of my head, the Barber used his clippers with a number 3 guard to give me a completely rounded and equalized haircut. This haircut was rather fast (well not in the very beginning when the hair was still too short) and easy to keep with my uniform. I must also say that I had gotten used to wearing this Army uniform which I considered so uncomfortable in the beginning.

At the end of this process, I had a short hair on the top of my head, tapered on the high part of the sides and completely shaved below that line, sides and neck included. Roy, my now friend SGT Garringer, praised this choice of military haircut.

When Christmas approached, we knew that we would all go home. There was nevertheless a difference between the Military Academy young cadets, the Junior College non ECP cadets and us: the younger ones were sent to their parents’ home, the College non ECP cadets received a travel ticket to the place where they wanted to go, but we ECP cadets, being considered as soldiers, received a leave of absence mentioning the place where we HAD to go and the barracks where we had to report "in case of emergency". For me, all this was simple: I was going home, to my parents’ home, and my "reporting barracks" was in the middle of the base where my father was Colonel.

We had no classes on December 23, so I could reach home on that date, before Christmas really started. I went home, in uniform of course: we ECP cadets had nothing else. I arrived home and, before doing anything else, forgetting even to take off my beret inside the house, I kissed and greeted mother in the usual way, but when I wanted to kiss my father, the Colonel, he started to shout:
"CPL, where did you get these bad manners ? SALUTE your superior officer in the appropriate way."
I saluted the Colonel the Army way, made a perfect about turn. I had not expected the Colonel’s reaction:
"Come back CPL, I did not say ‘DISMISS’." He was now shouting. "You are a soldier and you must obey my orders. Now disappear in your room and study there until your mother calls you for supper. DISMISS."

I disappeared in my room, expecting to find back my books, my posters and all my civilian clothes. When I entered the room, it was as if I had been struck by the thunder. My room had been completely changed. The walls were presently uniformly khaki, as in a barracks room. My comfortable bed had been replaced by a simple metallic bed looking like an Army bed. My nice wooden desk had been replaced by a plain metallic table, with a similar chair. On the table, a laptop had been placed for me to work, but I noticed rapidly that it had no internet connection (which was worse than in my College). The rest of the furniture consisted only of a typically Army cupboard and it was empty: all my clothes had been taken away. All my books, my posters, my records had disappeared. Practically speaking, I was in a barracks room. I hated that, got a terrible jolt and sprung towards the kitchen where my mother was preparing the evening meal.

When I asked my mother, furious:
"What happened to my room ? What happened to my things ?" she simply replied:
"Your father decided that since you are a soldier now, you don’t need all these old books."
"But I want my books back. And my civilian clothes, I am not going to stay in uniform." Furious, I threw my beret on the floor: I was in a rage !
I must confess that I was now shouting. My father heard all that noise and came into the kitchen, where he usually never set a foot. It was his turn to shout:
"CPL, what does all this shouting mean ?"
"Father, Colonel, I want my books back. And my civvies."
"CPL, you are in the military now. What’s more, you are in my base ! If you don’t like the room your mother prepared for you, you will go and sleep in the barracks. AND YOU WILL REMAIN IN UNIFORM."
"But father, I am on leave."
"I don’t care, you are a soldier." He suddenly noticed my new haircut and said:
"What is that haircut, Albert ?" He seemed to suddenly remember my first name !
"That’s the haircut I got at the Junior College after gaining my CPL stripes."
"In my regiment, Privates up to Lance Corporals keep an induction cut until they become Corporals. Corporals have a simple haircut: completely shaved below the beret line and a number 2 above. Tomorrow morning, you will go to the Barber and get an appropriate haircut, my boy."
"But I am on leave, Colonel."
"Yes, but your leave document says that you must stay in MY camp. So you will obey my orders or face an arrest for disobedience."
I realized that my father was serious and that there was nothing I could do, so I replied, as calmly as I could:
"Colonel, this Corporal is going to obey your orders as early as possible tomorrow morning. He asks now respectfully your permission to leave this place. At your command Sir."
"DISMISS," was my father’s reply. I took my beret and left the kitchen, and the house without a word.

I went to town to the home of my former English teacher. He did not know what had happened with me and was pleased to see me again, but also astonished:
"You, Albert, and in uniform ? Did you change your mind and choose to join the military ?"
I told him everything that happened and my desire to study English literature, but later since I was now blocked with the program my father had chosen for me. My teacher promised to help me. I asked him if I could stay at his place because I really did not want to see the Colonel, my father, this evening. He replied wisely:
"Don’t be so angry, it serves no purpose. You can stay and have dinner with me, but you must first call your parents and ask if they agree. I am sure that your mother has prepared a special meal for you."
"No, she thought I would only arrive on the 24th for Christmas eve."
"But now, she knows you are in town: call her."
I called my home and simply told mother:
"Mother, I am staying now with my English teacher. I will not come home for dinner" and I slammed the handset in its place. I did not tell that to my teacher but I stayed with him for the evening meal. We had a long chat followed by a very long discussion about my future.

I came home late, when my parents were already asleep, and I slept uncomfortably in my newly furnished room. But I was now used to this type of discomfort. The next morning, I woke up very early, got dressed in my comfortable BDU and went rapidly to the Camp Barber. He told me to sit and caped me. He then asked me what I wanted and I replied:
"A Corporal regulation cut for this base."
The Barber for corporals and NCOs was an old civilian. He started to shave my head according to my father’s description but he also wanted to start a discussion.
"Are you new to this base, Corporal ? I have never seen you before. And I know all the heads here !"
"I am not from this base, I am only a Cadet Officer, the Colonel’s son. He wants me to have the same haircut as all Corporals here during my leave."
"So you are on leave ? And in uniform ? You must really love the Army, son ?"
"I hate the Army, but I cannot avoid it. And now, let me get my haircut in silence please."
The barber kept quiet, but he was not pleased. He got hold of my head and shaved everything below the top, and then he shaved the top with a number 2 guard. This made me look again, more or less, like a new Cadet and I hated the situation, but I could do nothing about this.

When the Barber was done, I went home for breakfast. My mother was there and told me that I had to go immediately to my father’s office in the base, before breakfast. She was very nervous but did not explain. I did what she told me to do, assuming that the Colonel wanted simply to check if I had had my head shaved according to his order.

I had to wait a long time in front of his office and I was hungry, but I did not say a word nor move from the position of attention which I had adopted when I arrived. Finally, two MPs arrived, a Sergeant and a Corporal. The SGT told me to enter the office and there I took once more the position of attention in front of my father. But he did not like my attitude. He started with a booming voice:
"CPL Thorndel, where were you last night ?"
"Sir, I had dinner with my former English teacher, Mister Gentor, and I discussed with him about my future. Then I came home where I slept until I went to the Barber in order to have a CPL haircut, according to your orders, SIR."
"This means that you left this base without authorization. Moreover you met a person I had told you not to meet again. AND THIS WAS A DIRECT ORDER."
"But, Sir, I am on leave !"
"Keep quiet, Thorndel. Your behavior was not that of a future Army Officer. As father and as Colonel in charge of this base, I must do something to teach you the proper manners. I have decided to demote you immediately to Private and send you for 2 days in the brig. After that, you will spend the rest of the time you are supposed to stay here, in one of the company's barracks and you will train like the other soldiers. SGT, get hold of this Private, make sure that his uniform is adapted and that he gets a proper haircut."
"But Colonel, you cannot do that, I am on leave !"
"SGT, it will be 4 days in the brig, and in isolation. DISMISS."

There was nothing I could do. The two MPs got hold of me. They led me first to the clothing hall where all my rank insignia were taken away. My other clothes had been put in a big bag and were also modified. I was then handcuffed and led to the Privates’ Barber room. There were two Master Corporals working there. One of them asked the Sergeant:
"Another punished man ?"
"Better", replied the Sergeant MP. "That’s an ex-Corporal, demoted for being out of the base without authorization. He must have a Private haircut before going to the brig for four days."
"He already has a short haircut. It is a severe punishment," said the Master Corporal Barber.
The SGT then added: "He is also the Colonel’s son"
"In that case, I will give him a special treat", said the Master Corporal.

He got hold of me, pushed me brutally in a chair and caped me. Then he turned the chair so that I could not see anything, keeping his left hand on the top of my head. He got hold of his clippers and started to push my head forward, chin on my chest, acting more brutally than it had ever been done in BMAJC. He then pushed his clippers from my already shaved neck to my forehead. The Barber suddenly pulled my head backwards, without any warning and continued his savage work. He did the usual turning left and right with my poor head, but he did it with a brutality I had never encountered before. Suddenly, the noise of the clippers stopped and I thought that it was all over. I tried to get up, but the Barber pushed me back brutally in the chair saying:
"I had never hoped to have such an opportunity ! Giving an induction haircut to a Private named Thorndel ! Fine with me, but the game must last longer ! I don’t want to miss a second of it."
Both MPs started to laugh and I tried to remain calm and dignified !

The Barber had found another way to make me suffer, and probably to take some revenge from the Colonel. He put some cold water on my head, but no foam, and took an old long razor, which he showed me, in order to shave once more all my head. It took him a few minutes and it provided me with a few cuts. For each of them, the Barber said: "It does not hurt you Private, you are a Thorndel." I decided to keep silent and to accept everything.

When the Barber was finally done, he let me look in the mirror and I could see that I now had a super baldy, much better than any of the baldies I had received in BMAJC. In fact, my head now looked like a billiard ball. I wanted to touch it, but the handcuffs stopped my move and the two MPS and the Barber started to laugh. I stood up and was ready to follow the MPs, but the Barber shouted:
"Because of you, Thorndel, my room is a mess. Clean it before you go, Private." He seemed to have a great pleasure shouting my name and my new rank. I concluded that my father was not really loved in his own base.

Obediently, but still handcuffed, I took a broom and cleaned the floor of all the hair I could find. As soon as the Sergeant MP considered that I had done enough, he told the Corporal : "Take his right arm!"

It was thus held by an MP that I arrived at a sad building with "Base Correctional Facility". The sergeant told me to enter, and then to stop in front of one of the empty cells. This cell had no real door but was closed by a solid grid. The cell was approximately 6-by-8-foot. Through the grid, I could see what was inside. The walls and the floor were in solid concrete with a small opening, provided with solid bars, opposite the main grid. Along one wall, there was a sort of long concrete block with something on it to sleep on it; on the opposite wall there was a metal toilet, a sink and a rack. And that was it.

The MP Staff Sergeant called a Guard and told him:
"Guard, open this grid and take this prisoner’s handcuffs off." The Guard was a Private First Class and thus barely my superior since I was now a plain Private, but he was also a Guard !
The Staff Sergeant then shouted to me:
"Take off all your clothes except your undies and your socks. Put these clogs on. Quickly !"
I did as I was told. The SGT addressed himself once more to the Guard:
"Put a short chain on his ankles, Guard", and he turned himself towards me adding:
"If you don’t behave well, I will have you handcuffed once more, with your hands on your back. And I will have this ankle chain attached to the wall so you can no longer walk freely in your cell. UNDERSTOOD PRIVATE ?"
"SERGEANT, YES, SERGEANT" was the reply I shouted as an obedient prisoner.
The sergeant pushed me brutally inside the cell, and told the Guard to close and lock the main grid. The two MPs went away and left me alone there.

The first thing I did once I was alone and without handcuffs was to pass my hands on my head. It was really a billiard ball now. It did not feel like the "baldies" I had had in BMAJC: there, there were always stubbles remaining and it felt good, because this was the sign that my hair would come back. Now, thanks to the "special haircut" given by the Barber to an innocent Private, simply because he was the Colonel’s son, it felt very different. In fact it felt as if my hair would never come back. I knew that this was not true, but I did not like the feeling. I decided then to sit on the sort of sleeping concrete block. Immediately, an MP I had not seen before shouted:
"Prisoners are not allowed to sit on the couch during day time."
I jumped on my feet, saluted and said "OK, Guard".
"Prisoners are not allowed to salute. Nor to speak directly to guards except in the line of duty. Understood, PRIVATE THORNDEL ?" He shouted my name as if it was his revenge to use it for a Private, and moreover for a prisoner !
"At your command, Sir."
"Corporal is enough, prisoner."
"Permission to ask a question, Corporal ?"
"Permission granted."
"What is a prisoner allowed to do, during day time, Corporal ?"
"Walk in his cell, stand straight and silent. In your case, walking might be difficult, so I allow you to sit on the floor, but not on the bunk. UNDERSTOOD Prisoner ?"
"YES, CORPORAL. At your command."

The Guard went away and I tried to walk, but it was indeed difficult with the chain on my ankles. So I decided to sit on the floor and to think. But even that was unpleasant because the floor was cold : there was an opening with bars but no real window and we were in December ! So, when I was too cold, I walked making small steps in order not to hurt my ankles with the chain. Suddenly, the Guards shouted:
"All prisoners in their bunks. Lights out in 2 minutes."
I rushed to what was called "a bunk" and was in fact a block of concrete with a tiny cover. I jumped on it and when the Guard came and inspected my cell through the grid, he had nothing to say.

That’s how I spent my first Christmas eve after high school graduation: my father had found a nice place for his son.

That’s also how I spent four complete days and nights. Alone, with a chain on the ankles but no handcuffs. I received three meals a day in a small metal bowl with a metal beaker full of drinkable water. The food was brought into the cells by two prisoners who were probably more reliable than me since they had no chain on their ankles. They were probably not "in isolation", thank you Colonel-father for the great favour you did for me !!!!

I stayed in this cell for four days and four nights, without serious possibilities to wash because of the chain, and with NO possibility to change undies. They were in any case also cold ! The only intelligent thing I could do was to create a poem, in my head, as my former English teacher had suggested that I should do "when you have nothing else to do." On the morning of the fifth day, the same MPs appeared again. The Staff Sergeant called the Guard and asked him, showing me with his finger:
"Did this prisoner behave well ?"
"Staff Sergeant, Private Thorndel behaved perfectly."
"He is a prisoner, not a Private for the time being. Describe his behavior on the first day, Corporal, prisoners make often mistakes at that moment."
"Staff Sergeant, this prisoner walked in his cell constantly, according to regulations, except at meal times and at night."
"Do I have to believe that, Corporal ? With the chain he has on his ankles ?"
"Well, I could not observe him constantly, but when I did he was always behaving according to regulations, Staff Sergeant."
"Corporal, open this cell and take off his chain."
As soon as that was done, the Staff Sergeant MP told me:
"Give your clogs back to the Guard and put on your uniform. QUICKLY if you don’t want to go back to your cell."

My bag with all the clothes I had taken for my leave was waiting for me, next to the cell grid. I jumped on it, got a BDU and put it on without really having an opportunity to get washed or to change undies. I then put my boots on and, with my cap on my head, I followed the MPs. The Corporal was still holding my right arm and was holding my bag with the other one ! We reached one of the barracks of the camp. There, in a big room with plain beds and cupboards, typical of Army rooms, several soldiers were changing from their sport outfit to BDU. A Sergeant was supervising the whole thing, telling his men to hurry up if they wanted to have time to eat. His nametag showed that he was Sergeant Halder.

The Corporal stopped holding my arm. The Staff Sergeant pushed me towards the Sergeant and said:
"Here, Sergeant Halder, I bring you a jailbird. He is a former Corporal demoted to Private for disobedience : he refused to respect a direct order. The Colonel has decided that he will stay in your platoon till the end of next week. Don’t be kind to him, he does not deserve it."
He made an impeccable about turn and left. The other MP, the Corporal who had held my right arm, left me behind him and I remained, with my bag, waiting for more orders.

The Sergeant waited till the two MPs had left the room and then, looking at my name tag, he asked:
"Private Thorndel, what is your first name ?"
"Albert, Sergeant, but people usually call me Al."
"That will do for me. Al, are you a relative of Colonel Thorndel ?"
"Yes, Sergeant."
"Why were you demoted and sent to the brig, Thorndel ?"
That’s when I told the whole story to the Sergeant. He concluded with these words:
"In other words, your father did not like your choices and decided to punish you. He does not seem to like poetry ?"
"No, Sergeant"
"Well, I do. And stop saying ‘Sergeant’ at the end of every sentence, this is no longer basic training. In any case, I will call you by your first name." He then added :
"Al, did you have breakfast in the brig ?"
"No, Ser...," and I stopped remembering that SGT Halder did not want me to use his rank ‘at every sentence’
"Well, get ready and follow the others to the mess hall. Eat with them, make friends with them. You are going to train with them for a little bit more than a week of your leave."

I joined the other soldiers of what was now my temporary dorm and after that I started training with them. In the evening, after dinner, we were together in the big dorm. Some were writing a letter, others were reading a magazine or cleaning some clothes. All had very short hair, but I was the only one with a billiard ball on top of his neck.

Suddenly SGT Halder called:
"Tom, come here."
A big and solid soldier, Private First Class, came close to us. He had very short hair, according to the Colonel’s orders, but one could see that in fact he was red headed. I could read his name tag : "Slowitcek" and I understood why Sergeant Halder chose to call his men by their first name. The Sergeant went on:
"Tom, do you feel like playing guitar this evening ?"
Tom replied:
"If the others don’t mind, Sergeant."
"Well, play it. Al, our new boy, will like that, he is a poet."
Tom raised his head, looked at me and said:
"Thorndel, are you writing poems or are you like the Colonel ?"
"I write poems and I love music."
Tom started to play guitar and he played very well. The other guys seemed to like that and they applauded ! Suddenly Tom turned towards me and asked:
"Al, since you are one of us now, could you say some of your own poems please ?"
I thought for a few seconds and then started to recite what I considered as my best poem. Then I moved to another, and another. Surprisingly my new comrades liked it. They applauded also and Tom tried to find music for each of them.

On New Year, the Colonel came and inspected us in the mess hall. He arrived in the evening, while Tom was playing Folk music on his guitar. The Colonel listened and congratulated Tom:
"You play well, Private First Class, but did you ever think of playing military music ?"
"No, Colonel, but I am not the only one …", Sergeant Halder interrupted brutally Tom and told him:
"Slowitcek, the Colonel is here to inspect you, not to listen to your comments. Go immediately to your room and stay there until tomorrow."

It was the first and only time I heard Sergeant Halder call one of his men by his last name. He later explained to Tom and me, in private, that he was afraid Tom would mention my poem-saying act: this could have provoked problems with the Colonel.

In any case, the Colonel simply told Sergeant Halder that he was "in favor of very strict discipline and suggested that this impertinent soldier, whose name he had not memorized, should be demoted", which thanks to the SGT never happened. The Colonel left immediately after pronouncing these profound and warm words. He did not look at me, did not greet me. I was confined to barracks and thus, it was the first time I could not wish ‘Happy New Year’ to my parents, but not the last one.

I stayed with these soldiers for a little bit longer than a week and it was not at all unpleasant. They wanted all to know my story, and when I told it they all said that the Colonel was a "nasty animal". They asked me to tell them some more of my own poems. They liked them, sometimes without really understanding them, but just because, as they said, they "liked the music of the words". They advised me to try to keep writing poetry, since that was what I really wanted. I must say that I behaved as a real soldier: the training I had received in BMAJC had been useful. All my temporary comrades recognized me as one of their kind, with special aims, but yet a real soldier. One of them, the only Corporal, told me:
"You really deserve to be a Corporal even if you write poems. It was not correct to demote you just for that."
"That’s army life and I have to accept it," was my reply.

On the Sunday after New Year I left my temporary companions and my father’s base. When I was on the verge of leaving, Sergeant Halder called me with an envelope in his hands:
"Al, what’s the name and rank of the officer in charge of your bunch of cadets ?"
"Lieutenant Kent, Sergeant"
"I told you not to use my rank, Al."
"It is my last day here and I wanted to say how much I appreciate your way of treating me and the other soldiers."
"Shut your big mouth Al." He then wrote something on his envelope and gave it to me with the following comment:
"Give this to LT Kent as soon as you are back in your College. And remember that it is only a College. Go now, young man and keep writing poetry."

When I arrived at BMAJC, I was tired and I decided to go to bed and to delay my visit to Lieutenant Kent until the next day. My roommates looked at me, at my bald head and my lack of stripes. Robert was probably the bravest one and asked kindly:
"Al, what happened to your hair and to your stripes ?"
I started to tell him, and my other roommates, the complete story when Roy, Cadet Sergeant Garringer, entered our room briskly.
"Al, you must go …," he started to say but stopped and asked also : "What happened to your hair ? How come you don’t wear your stripes ?"
He looked at me and added:
"In any case, you must go immediately to Lieutenant Kent’s office. With everything you have for him."

I got Sergeant Halder’s letter and I calmly went to the lieutenant’s office. I entered according to the rules, saluted and waited in the position of attention after taking my beret off. The Lieutenant looked at me, inspected my sleeves deprived of stripes and my billiard ball head. He then started to speak:
"I am not astonished when I see you like this. I got a letter from your father, Colonel Thorndel, and he simply said the following: ‘My son behaved very badly while on my base. He refused to obey a direct order. I had to reduce him in rank to Private and let him learn what it means to live with other soldiers. I instructed SGT Halder, who was his platoon SGT for more than a week, to write a report which Private Thorndel should give to you. This is my direct order.’ Do you have this report, Cadet Thorndel?"
"YES SIR", was my drilled reaction. And I handed the Sergeants’ letter to LT Kent. He opened the letter, read it, and simply said:
"This is very interesting."

The LT waited a certain time, letting me stay in the position of attention and suddenly started to speak:
"Listen Cadet Thorndel. You are a Cadet of BMAJC. You are not yet in the Army, even if you wear an Army uniform and if we treat you as soldiers. We are simply training you to become good Army officers. Your father was completely wrong. You are a civilian and you are more than 18. So, even if you were on his base, he had no right to demote you. And I assume that he forced you, wrongly, to become bald. Now, Thorndel, WE decide here who is a good Cadet and who is not. So AT EASE. Tell me your complete story."

I automatically reacted and changed position, but I was really flabbergasted. But I tried to hide it and I started to tell my story. I knew it had been wrong to leave my parents home without permission and I now expected LT Kent to give me a BMAJC type punishment.

When I was done, the LT looked at me and asked:
"Thorndel, do you know what is in SGT Halder’s report ?"
"No sir. I only know that the letter I gave you was handed to me directly by the Sergeant who was my direct chief during my stay in my father’s base."
"Exactly, Thorndel. The Sergeant simply writes the following: ‘Thorndel is a good poet, as far as I can judge. He is also an intelligent, excellent and obedient soldier. I would like to have many like him in my platoon.’ That’s it", concluded the Lieutenant.

He looked at me and said: "Your father had no right and no reason to demote you, you are placed under my authority here and during the holidays you are on leave, and thus free. Even if we mimic the real soldier life to prepare you for your future job in the Army. Try to find another place where you could spend your holidays and your future leave orders will mention this place and not your father’s home."

I wanted to go, but the Lieutenant reacted:
"I did not say ‘DISMISS’. ATTENTION."
I did what he had ordered me, not understanding what was his aim. I understood rapidly when he spoke, calmly, not shouting:
"Cadet Thorndel, I want to see you in five minutes with your cadet Corporal stripes. I want you to start having again the haircut you had before your leave. Finally, on the basis of your Sergeant’s letter, I congratulate you for your excellent behavior and I suggest that you keep writing good poetry, without forgetting your courses and your future activities as an Army Officer. Now, DISMISS."

I went back to my room, put back my CPL stripes on all my uniforms and spent the rest of the evening with my comrades. The next day, we had classes and exams. The week went by uneventfully, except that I was again in charge of my room. The comrades played the game and I had no problem getting the required discipline.

On Saturday morning, we received the results of our exams. I had passed all the tests and even I came out first in most of them. I didn't really like what I had learned, but my hard work had paid off and altogether, I came out first of our group. LT Kent congratulated me with a:
"Well done, Thorndel. Keep working like this but don’t forget poetry."

Cadet SGT Garringer also congratulated me and changed his attitude towards me, after saying:
"CPL Thorndel, as of now I will be even more strict with you" and he hugged me in a very friendly way adding: "you are good in maths, but don’t forget poetry."

We kept studying during the second period of the year, knowing the best cadets would get a promotion in June, after the last exams of the year.

We were all in the big auditorium and the Commandant gave the list of promoted Cadets. My father, Colonel Thorndel, was present but he ignored me. He first gave their promotion to the 2nd year ECP cadets: they were promoted to Cadet 2nd Lieutenant. Cadet Sergeant Roy Garringer, who was now my friend, was promoted to 2nd Lieutenant in the Army, and we all applauded this well deserved promotion.

Promotions among 1st year ECP cadets were normally restricted to promotions to Private First Class. I had nothing to expect since I was already a Cadet Corporal. I was thus greatly surprised when the Commandant called my name and added "is promoted to Cadet Sergeant on the basis of his excellent attitude in a platoon during the Christmas holidays." I was thus the highest ranking, and only poet, of the 1st year Cadets group. The new LT Garringer stepped forward and pinned the ensigns of my new rank on my collar. He congratulated me and simply said:
"Congratulations, let’s be friends now."
Mathew, the civilian who wanted so much to become an officer, became Corporal and head of our room while I was now in charge of all the Cadets. Luckily Pedro, our latino, was also promoted: he became Private First Class.

This was for all of us a memorable day. After that, I was called to LT Kent’s office. The Lieutenant told me very seriously:
"Cadet Sergeant Thorndel, I received a letter from your father saying the following: ‘I want you to send my son to my base for all his leaves. There, I will be able to discipline him and to check his military progress. This is a direct order.’ Do you really want to go to this base ?"
"Not really, Lieutenant, but I believe that I have no choice."
"Is there any other place where you would prefer to go ?"
"Yes Lieutenant, I would like to be sent to Cadet Sam Pinker’s home. But I realize that you received a direct order."
"Listen Cadet. I already told you that you are NOT YET in the Army. Neither am I. I joined the Marine Corps and ended as a Warrant Officer. After the end of my contract, I became a civilian employee of BMAJC. They gave me here the uniform and rank of 1st Lieutenant to be able to manage you all, but I am no longer in the military and I don’t have to obey your father’s stupid direct orders. NOW, what do you really want ?"
"Sir, I would like to go to Pinker’s home."
"That’s where I give you the order to go, and you must obey MY order. Now, go to the barber and get a short but decent and nice haircut for your leave. DISMISS."

I spent the best part of my short holiday at my friend Pinker’s with his parents who are charming people, not like my father. I simply regretted that I could not be with my mother, but she remained with my father.

During my short 3 weeks leave I first started to buy civilian clothing with my modest BMAJC SGT pay: I got a pair of jeans and t-shirts and sport shoes. I also had long discussions with Pinker and his parents.

At the end of the school year, my first school year as an ECP cadet, I had good, and even very good, results for the courses imposed on me by my "dear" father. I had also progressed in writing poetry, according to my English school teacher, Mister Gentner with whom I remained in contact by mail. This teacher encouraged me to continue writing poetry but I had accepted to get at least an Associate Degree in Maths and Physics, so I told my former teacher that I wanted to respect my promise, even if it had been made under duress. That’s when Mister Gentner had a brilliant idea:
"My boy, get your Associate Degree the way you promised to get it, but after that feel free to start studies which will lead you to a BSc in English Literature. I am convinced you can do it !"

I also had to spend 6 weeks in an Army camp where I was training, as a SGT, young cadets for their ROTC training. In fact, I felt free as the air after my (very long) discussion with LT Kent and with Mister Gentner.

As soon as classes started again and following the advice of my former teacher, I started working very seriously in classes: I had no other possibilities. I spent twice as much time as others for Mathematics, Physics and Mechanics, but I succeeded. I continued to write poems and I sent them to my teacher, Mister Gentor and to Sergeant Halder who had helped me more than he thought. I accomplished my military duties mechanically, without thinking too much but with what Lieutenant Kent called "a natural authority". This enabled me to give the necessary orders, have them accomplished and all that without shouting !

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