Article Contributed on: 12/21/2008 9:21:28 AM
June 26th 2008. My own personal doomsday, and a day I had been waiting for forever. That was the day when I finally got to be a Cadet at the United States Air Force Academy. A bunch of my buddies from the New Mexico Military Institute who would also be in-processing with me had spent the previous night at my house. In all I think there was about 8 of us all crammed into beds, couches, and some in the motor home. That morning we all woke up and a heated debate ensued about when we should report for Basic. There was me who, like my dad, am extremely impatient about some things. I bounced around all morning trying to tell everyone that we should go earlier and just get it over with. I was over ruled by a 7-1 vote. Before too long another friend of mine came over with his brother who was an upperclassmen at the Academy. He soundly advised us against going early; better to be the last ones so the people on the bus and such were out of energy. So we waited, and we waited, and I spent the two extra hours flipping out and not knowing what to do.
Finally we left. We looked like a small convoy, dad with one truck fully loaded with soon to be cadets, Susan with another, and my buddy's brother in his car bringing up the rear. As we pulled into Doolittle Hall (where in-processing takes place) I was struck by a bunch of things. The terrified kids around me, how little I had packed compared to everyone else, but mostly how different it must be from a typical college in-processing. As my buddies and I got in line I took a look around. There were about 200 or so kids there and the vast majority looked so nervous I was afraid their breakfasts' were going to be all over the sidewalk before too long. I also noticed how many of them apparently ignored the briefings about what to bring /not bring. A very stern sergeant had told each of us to bring nothing more than paperwork, a razor, and shaving cream. Anything else was just a waste since everything else would be issued (they weren't kidding, I was even issued underwear and a toothbrush). All my buddies and I packed exactly that. I brought it in a backpack, a manila envelope with my life story, a brand new razor, spare blades, and a fresh can of shaving cream. It was pretty funny watching kids cart around a big duffel bag full of who knows what.
When we finally reached the separation point, where parents tear up and future cadets pretend to be big and brave (we really want to cry too) Dad and Susan gave me and all my buddies big hugs and wished us good luck. As we ascended the staircase I felt a sort of finality, almost like my whole world was changing. Little did I know that that special moment was reserved for a very large and loud upperclassman that was ready to put me in my place. After climbing the staircase I filled out some paperwork and then my buddies and I went outside were an elderly man stood next to a bridge waiting for us. When we got there he explained that he was a member of the original class and he had done some things, (I would later find out there he was the #1 Cadet out of the original class, a 3 star General, and one of the best pilots the Air Force has ever seen). The bridge he was next to was just a little stone bridge that didn't really cross anything, it was just there. The man (who I later found out was retired Lt. General Robert D. Beckel) gave us a speech about honor, courage, and commitment. He wished us the best and said that this was the last point to turn around and walk away. No one budged. He gazed at us for a moment, wished us luck one last time, and told us to cross. That was the last thing we wanted to do. We could see on the other side of the bridge stood a bunch of rather large and angry looking upperclassmen. They looked sharp in their blues; they had white gloves to accent their sharpness. Under their service caps they all wore black sunglasses so you couldn't read their eyes, and they all just stood there, expressionless, waiting for us. Finally one of us moved forward, it might have been Colin, I'm not really sure, and as soon as his foot hit that bridge chaos broke loose.
Those upperclassmen sprung into action barking orders left and right, telling us to hurry ourselves along the path as fast as humanly possible onto the nearest bus. Cup our hands, quit looking around, close our mouths, quit fidgeting, anything that we did we were somehow wrong. As we lined up to get on the bus I remembered all the horror stories I had heard about the bus. It didn't look too intimidating, just a normal yellow school bus. Although I'm sure it looked comical from an outsider's perspective. We were all lined up outside it, all the upperclassmen circled us and the bus growling orders, and it must have looked like flies circling crap. As I stood there I had to restrain a smile, dang I had been waiting a while to get yelled at. As we all climbed into the bus another upperclassmen was telling us to sit two to a seat, bags in our lap, and to be quiet. Didn't seem too bad, he wasn't yelling and was fairly patient with us. I have no idea who I sat next to, only that he looked so nervous I was afraid I'd be wearing his breakfast. After they had crammed the bus full of us the doors closed and the bus inched forward. I could hear a collective inhaling of breath as everyone prepared for the worst. But it didn't come. This has to be a trick I told myself. Surely they're messing with us. But the seconds ticked by, one, two, three, and before long we were up to fifteen. And then I realized the thought process, we were still within viewing range of the civilians, uh-oh. As soon as that parking lot disappeared from view all hell broke loose.
From behind me a voice filled the bus. We were told to shut up (we weren't talking out of fear to being with), lock our eyes forward, hands cupped and on our thighs, sit up straight. He then proceeded to introduce himself and explain that HE would decided whether or not we were worthy of HIS Air Force Academy. Then he and another upperclassman on the bus descended upon some poor kid and lit him up. The kid went into g-lock and froze. After they had decided that he was sufficiently messed with they returned to prowling the bus. Again I had to stop myself from smiling and laughing, I had been dreaming of this bus ride since I was 10. While giving us a speech about honor, character, and integrity they would tell us to stop looking around, be quiet, breathe quieter, and get our hands back on our laps. Most of the ride was a blur. The end has been etched into my head forever though. As we stopped the upperclassmen at the front looked at all of us and said, "If you choose to accept a life a mediocrity than stay on my bus and we'll take you back, however if you wish to accept a life of honor and integrity, then GET OFF MY BUS!!!" And with those words the doors opened and it was a scramble to get off that bus. It was strange getting off that bus it felt like there was no going back, but I didn't want too. As I raced through the mix of shouting cadre (upperclassmen designated as Basic trainers) and planted my feet on the blue footprints I felt good. I was living my dream, a United States Air Force Academy Cadet at long last.