My fellow blogger and dear friend CHADFOX recently wrote a post about one of the local homeless that meander the streets of the city named Freddy. It is a sad testament to our struggling humanity that we can exist with so much in the midst of those with so little.
I know these people. Once upon a time, I was these people.
When I was nineteen I was a troubled non-directional wanderer. I didnt want to leave home, I didnt want a job. I wanted to sit home, eat, watch tv and go out with my friends. Not even something so interesting as playing video games. If I did leave the house it was to go to bars or cruising down at the gay beach at night... many nights, if I came home at all, it would be after both my parents had left for work.
My parents tolerated my laziness and patying for as long as any hippy parents could, which I'm sure to say is quite a bit longer than most parents. Several times they threatened to throw me out and let me sink or swim on my own. Any time they did this I would disappear to one of my friends homes, just so my parents would know what they were missing when I was gone.
I would come home days later and the subject would drop... for about a week or so. So imagine my parents going through this same cycle every week for the better part of a year, all the while footing my bill. The year of buildup led to a knock down drag out with my dad and brother. After going out of his way to come and pick me up somewhere, I said something really ugly to my dad when we turned onto our street, and in a moment of stunned disbelief and anger he reached across the seat and slapped me right across the face. And quite deservedly so.
We pulled into the driveway and I bolted from the van, ran into the house and grabbed the portable phone. Pushing my brother out of my way I bolted down the hallway to my room screaming and crying. My dad walked calmly into the house and to my door. He told me to give him the phone and the responding stream of explatives issed from my mouth would have prompted the same O shaped breathless shock on the most hardened of criminals.
I have always had really great legs. And whenever I am complimented on them, I say thank you, its from years of keeping my brother and father out of my room. Really, it was just that one day. I wedged my back against that door and held it shut with my legs as my dad boomed away on the other side. My brother thinking himself clever, came around the house and started climing in my window. He came over to me and tried to take the phone from me (it and the phone call to the police was all but forgotten in the melee). I always refer to this as the moment that my brother realized that he was no longer my bigger brother.
I grabbed him by the throat and while my legs kept my dad from bursting in with a wedge, I held him against the wall until all he could do was call out to dad that I was choking him as he started to black out. All those years of brotherly brawls in which I was the loser boiled up in me and as he started to slip away I yelled at him "YEAH, PAYBACKS A BITCH, ISNT IT"
I dont know what broke that moment apart. What I remember next is barreling out into the hallway after dad and knocking the glasses off his face. We then fought on the ground like dogs rolling over each other and punching at the ribs. We slammed into the front right leg of mom's grand piano, and the ensuing creak of splintering wood tore us apart in an instant and we were both up and holding the bottom of the piano so it wouldnt fall.
That night, as my parents sat in the living room trying to figure out what to do with me, I packed a bag, took what was important to me, and climed out my window and ran away.
My friend Bob from church let me stay with him those first couple nights, but when he kept insisting that I go home and mend things, I decided to move on. A friend of a friend had moved in with his girlfriend, but had paid the last three months on his empty apartment, so he let me move in there. There was no electricity, and no furniture, and I lived by candlelight and canned food for three months.
When the lease was finally up I ended up couch surfing with random friends and strangers until I had over stayed my welcome or as in one case, I was just too terrified to stay. I slept in train stations, on beaches, in backyards, in drughouses, in hotels and in bathhouses. I snuck into the mall twice in the dead on night... And yes, on one or two occasions I even went home with people just so I could be inside and maybe get a shower.
I know what it is to be that low. To have your life so precariously balanced that one thing going the wrong way can change everything. I was lucky. The balance fell the other way for me. My parents let me come home. I went to vocational school, and when I got out and still couldnt find a job, I wouldnt allow myself to fall that hard again. So, I found a job where they couldnt fire me.
When people ask me about my military experience, I usually say two things. First: I wouldnt do it again, but I also wouldnt undo it. Second: I got out of it exactly what I went in looking for, dicipline and organization.
For the last year and a half I spent my work week with these people. Talking to them, feeding them and listening to their stories. A lot of the people that ate at the soup kitchen were just one or two things going wrong away from being like the rest of us. How many times the phrase "if that had just worked out for me..." has brushed past my ears. I know these people are human. I know that even though I cant afford to give them money and I no longer feed them, they are still human and as the animal is want to do, they still crave the attention.
With that I will leave you with my best "homeless guy" memory. A couple years ago, the castro burned. No, not all of it, hell, not even most of it... A guy driving down Castro and crossing Market street started having a heart attack. His vehicle careened across the road and ran straight into a line of motorcycles before colliding with the first car in a line of parked cars next to the castro theatre. The owner of that first car had just gotten in and turned on his car when he was hit. And suddenly there was another car on top of him, and both cars burst into flames. Sparking a chain reaction of explosions as each parked car's gas tank lit up all the way down the block.
Across the street in front of Daddy's there was a Sister Of Perpetual Indulgence and one of the local homeless guys. If you've ever been here, you've seen him. He is tall and lanky and has a tuft of dirty blond hair and usually stands at the castro theatre parking lot entrance tossing off witty bon mots to passers by. These two were the first into action. They bolted across the street, and as the crowds began to fill the sidewalks, you could see them, the drag nun and the crazy homeless guy pulling the drivers from the burning wreckage.
All I'm saying is this, next time you walk past a person like that, just remember, you should at least extend to them the common courtesy of human interaction.
Tuesday, August 26, 2008
Friday, August 22, 2008
Donde Esta a Key?
I have this strange new hobby...
When I was running the Jon Sims Center, there was this big jar of keys. It was every key that the space had collected over it's 30 year run. Every time the locks were changed, every key that was returned by a tenant, and every key that was ever forgotten and never claimed.
Well, when we closed the doors, I decided to take the keys home. I thought I might be able to make something with them... this is what has come out so far... and for those of you that are going to ask... yeah, I still have a bunch more. But I am always looking for more... so if you have some, or find some, hand 'em over, I'll make art out of them.
Title: THREE
Title: Spring Flower
Title: The Bridge
Title: Dragon Sunrise
The best key that came into my possession by way of the Jon Sims Center, hanging on my wall, so that every single one of my guests can go home and say that while here, they held in their hands the Key to San Francisco...
Monday, August 18, 2008
Birthdaversarry
Friday was my 33rd birthday. And with the way the my new year started, I am guessing that this next year is going to be really weird... but good?
Danny and my birthdays are two days apart, his on the 13th and mine on the 15th. Being that I tend not to remember when our first date was, or when we decided to officially be boyfriends, I tend to look at the day we met, as our anniversary. We met on the Sunday of lazybear last year, which was August the 4th. So, with both birthdays and our one year anniversary looming, we thought it would be nice to have a small intimate get together with some friends.
It began like any other day (with the exception of my parents calling at ungodly hours). Around 7:30 my alarm starts going off and I grudgingly take the next thirty minutes to get out of bed. That task is made even harder due to a certain significant other not letting go... and my complete unwillingness to let go first... finally with a mighty huff and pout, and a face that almost made me call in sick, I made it out of bed and headed in to work.
Work was a pretty easy and happy day. Not too much for me to do, and lots of happy people getting ready for the weekend. Somehow I found a temp job at the one and only law firm where the employees (including the attorneys) would rather be out living than behind a desk working. So it fits.
As I was killing time at the reception desk waiting for the phone that never rings to do so, I started reading the news on CNN.com. The first two stories I read, set the tone for the upcoming year. First, in New York, a pregnant police officer was bumped by a van and wound up fatally injured underneath a transit bus. When it happened, there were about ten people on the street that immediatly ran out to try and save her.
Ten people trying to lift a five ton bus are never going to have very successfull results. So after unsuccessfully trying to lift the bus off the police woman, another ten people ran out onto the street to help. Here is where it gets weird/good. Twenty or so New Yorkers, arguably the most jaded and immoveable among us Americans, lifted a five ton bus and pulled the police woman out, and though they could not save her life, they did save the life of her baby.
The other story that I read was this. Friday afternoon in Palo Alto, CA. two men, one a police officer on medical leave and his friend a former corrections officer, held a press conference at which they announced that on their last camping trip in the north Georgia forest, they discovered the body of what can only be called Bigfoot.
They have turned the 7'7", 500lb, fur covered body over to Tom Biscardi (one of the nations foremost Bigfoot hunters), who is conveining a group of scientists to examine the body.
I couldnt believe it, and tried not to let him give it to me, but he was so frustrated by my consistently crap computers that he decided it was time that I owned my first brand-new-fresh-from-the-box computer. Steve just wrote a game for the iPhone, and when Apple released the new iPhone last month, his game catapulted to number 13 on the download list. I can understand why he felt he wanted to get me such a lavish gift, I have been behind him pushing from the day he decided to write the game. I even went with him to buy the book to teach him how to do it. But still, this was such a huge gift, and very unexpected. Weird, but GREAT!
The party went into the wee hours of Saturday morning, and somewhere around 3:30 in the morning we finally fell asleep, exhausted. Saturday I gave Danny his birthday wish and never left the bedroom, except to get food and provisions, that is. We were planning on going to another birthday party and then to the two year anniversary party for our favorite bar, but... well... we just didnt leave the room, and that was totally fine for me.
Sunday started out nice and lazy, just the way I like. We woke up and went and had breakfast, yes at one in the afternoon, shuttup, I love my sleep! Our only plan for the day was to go to the Eagle beer bust. The only bar I still consistantly go to, the Eagle is an outdoor patio that fits a few hundred. The music is just barely audible, and the people run the gamut in personality and type, so it is a great place to meet new people and actually hear what they are saying. At the bust, we ran into several friends, and several very very hot men! A fantastic time was had by all.
Six of us left the bust crammed into Adrians 'spensive car, and headed over to his house where we met up with his friend Liam, who I hit it off with immediatly due to a shared military experience (he was on the aircraft carrier that was in my battlegroup). Not really sure what to do for dinner, the seven of us fixed some cocktails while I secretly ordered two pizza's for delivery. The evening was full of laughter, clothes and debate. Adrian is learning sewing, so Danny and he did a mini fashion show for the rest of us. I didnt think it would be possible, but Danny actually looks hot as hell in gold sequins!
Somehow I got into a political and military debate with Liam, covering all sorts of topics from immigration to the middle east solutions. By the end of the night, I had agreed to be his Chief of Staff upon his election to the Presidency of the United States. So, all in all, I would say a pretty damn good weekend. Weird, but good.
Danny and my birthdays are two days apart, his on the 13th and mine on the 15th. Being that I tend not to remember when our first date was, or when we decided to officially be boyfriends, I tend to look at the day we met, as our anniversary. We met on the Sunday of lazybear last year, which was August the 4th. So, with both birthdays and our one year anniversary looming, we thought it would be nice to have a small intimate get together with some friends.
It began like any other day (with the exception of my parents calling at ungodly hours). Around 7:30 my alarm starts going off and I grudgingly take the next thirty minutes to get out of bed. That task is made even harder due to a certain significant other not letting go... and my complete unwillingness to let go first... finally with a mighty huff and pout, and a face that almost made me call in sick, I made it out of bed and headed in to work.
Work was a pretty easy and happy day. Not too much for me to do, and lots of happy people getting ready for the weekend. Somehow I found a temp job at the one and only law firm where the employees (including the attorneys) would rather be out living than behind a desk working. So it fits.
As I was killing time at the reception desk waiting for the phone that never rings to do so, I started reading the news on CNN.com. The first two stories I read, set the tone for the upcoming year. First, in New York, a pregnant police officer was bumped by a van and wound up fatally injured underneath a transit bus. When it happened, there were about ten people on the street that immediatly ran out to try and save her.
Ten people trying to lift a five ton bus are never going to have very successfull results. So after unsuccessfully trying to lift the bus off the police woman, another ten people ran out onto the street to help. Here is where it gets weird/good. Twenty or so New Yorkers, arguably the most jaded and immoveable among us Americans, lifted a five ton bus and pulled the police woman out, and though they could not save her life, they did save the life of her baby.
The other story that I read was this. Friday afternoon in Palo Alto, CA. two men, one a police officer on medical leave and his friend a former corrections officer, held a press conference at which they announced that on their last camping trip in the north Georgia forest, they discovered the body of what can only be called Bigfoot.
They have turned the 7'7", 500lb, fur covered body over to Tom Biscardi (one of the nations foremost Bigfoot hunters), who is conveining a group of scientists to examine the body.
"I want to get to the bottom of it," Biscardi said. "I'll tell you what I've seen and what I've touched and what I've felt, what I've prodded was not a mask sewed onto a bear hide, OK?"
While hauling the body out of the mountains, the men noticed that they were being shadowed by at least three other Sasquach. One of whom they captured in a blurry picture. The sasquach must have known to keep a distance and to not get too close, because that pic is blurry, but the pic of the body they found and kept in an outdoor freezer is perfectly focused, even if it does not show everything clearly.
So, you can see why this year is off to a weird start.
Friday night, I get home and run through the house cleaning everything in my path. By 7:30 I finally sit down and breathe. At 8:00pm, people start showing up. I am not going to take up another two or three paragraphs talking about the party, needless to say, there were around thirty people, they were all really friendly, most knew each other, and those that didnt got to know the rest of us really fast.
Steve-Oh!, my crazy genius, called to say he was on his way, and that he was bringing a new component for my laptop that should solve my problems. He is my resident expert when something is wrong with my computers, and is often checking my computer to fix whatever unwitting thing I did to it. I told him that he could look at my computer, but I didnt want him spending the entire party on the computer trying to fix all my mistakes. When he arrived, he had this in a box under his arm.
So, you can see why this year is off to a weird start.
Friday night, I get home and run through the house cleaning everything in my path. By 7:30 I finally sit down and breathe. At 8:00pm, people start showing up. I am not going to take up another two or three paragraphs talking about the party, needless to say, there were around thirty people, they were all really friendly, most knew each other, and those that didnt got to know the rest of us really fast.
Steve-Oh!, my crazy genius, called to say he was on his way, and that he was bringing a new component for my laptop that should solve my problems. He is my resident expert when something is wrong with my computers, and is often checking my computer to fix whatever unwitting thing I did to it. I told him that he could look at my computer, but I didnt want him spending the entire party on the computer trying to fix all my mistakes. When he arrived, he had this in a box under his arm.
I couldnt believe it, and tried not to let him give it to me, but he was so frustrated by my consistently crap computers that he decided it was time that I owned my first brand-new-fresh-from-the-box computer. Steve just wrote a game for the iPhone, and when Apple released the new iPhone last month, his game catapulted to number 13 on the download list. I can understand why he felt he wanted to get me such a lavish gift, I have been behind him pushing from the day he decided to write the game. I even went with him to buy the book to teach him how to do it. But still, this was such a huge gift, and very unexpected. Weird, but GREAT!
The party went into the wee hours of Saturday morning, and somewhere around 3:30 in the morning we finally fell asleep, exhausted. Saturday I gave Danny his birthday wish and never left the bedroom, except to get food and provisions, that is. We were planning on going to another birthday party and then to the two year anniversary party for our favorite bar, but... well... we just didnt leave the room, and that was totally fine for me.
Sunday started out nice and lazy, just the way I like. We woke up and went and had breakfast, yes at one in the afternoon, shuttup, I love my sleep! Our only plan for the day was to go to the Eagle beer bust. The only bar I still consistantly go to, the Eagle is an outdoor patio that fits a few hundred. The music is just barely audible, and the people run the gamut in personality and type, so it is a great place to meet new people and actually hear what they are saying. At the bust, we ran into several friends, and several very very hot men! A fantastic time was had by all.
Six of us left the bust crammed into Adrians 'spensive car, and headed over to his house where we met up with his friend Liam, who I hit it off with immediatly due to a shared military experience (he was on the aircraft carrier that was in my battlegroup). Not really sure what to do for dinner, the seven of us fixed some cocktails while I secretly ordered two pizza's for delivery. The evening was full of laughter, clothes and debate. Adrian is learning sewing, so Danny and he did a mini fashion show for the rest of us. I didnt think it would be possible, but Danny actually looks hot as hell in gold sequins!
Somehow I got into a political and military debate with Liam, covering all sorts of topics from immigration to the middle east solutions. By the end of the night, I had agreed to be his Chief of Staff upon his election to the Presidency of the United States. So, all in all, I would say a pretty damn good weekend. Weird, but good.
Saturday, August 16, 2008
Battle Stations: part four
We filed into the gym for our last challenge. In the middle of the floor and somehow covertly and dramatically lit, was our next challenge: a vertical piece of plywood with a circular hole in it. We looked at it dumbfounded for a second. Then DI Delaney walked up to it and told us, we had to get every single one of our team through that hole without touching the red hot sides.
We circled up for a moment and I looked around. For some reason, they were all looking at me. I said “conveyor belt, biggest first, smallest last”? For some reason they leapt into action. Picking me up horizontally and running me toward and then through the hole feet first. As I scrambled up to catch the next guy through the hole we formed a human conveyor belt with our arms and one by one each guy was moved like a centipede through the hole. When only the smallest man was left, the two tallest of us on the other side stuck our arms through the hole and we told him to run and leap, we would pull him through.
That is exactly what happened. And when he stood up our DI stopped the clock with a look of utter disbelief on his face.
“The record time for this exercise in my time here stood at four minutes and twenty one seconds. You men did it in one minute and fifty eight seconds. Kroll, take this marker and write the Division number and time on the board. It’s the new record to beat.”
The rest of that morning went by like a euphoric high. We got to the mess hall at 5:00 am, and finally, got to go in before every other division. And for only us, there was no time limit on how long we ate, and how many times we went back up for seconds. We sat there for the better part of an hour regaling the reunited division of eighty six men on the highs and lows of the previous four hours.
The bond we built that night was perfect humanity. There was no unnecessary thought; there was no debate or want of power. There was no politics or mistrust. We were bonded as human beings by a common goal, and we knew that everything said was to aid each other, and that help could be given without having been asked for or without glory being assigned.
It is important in this society to build a common bond with each other. We have become mistrustful. For all the benefits we reap from our pride in diversity, one has to ask, is the cost of diversity unity?
We circled up for a moment and I looked around. For some reason, they were all looking at me. I said “conveyor belt, biggest first, smallest last”? For some reason they leapt into action. Picking me up horizontally and running me toward and then through the hole feet first. As I scrambled up to catch the next guy through the hole we formed a human conveyor belt with our arms and one by one each guy was moved like a centipede through the hole. When only the smallest man was left, the two tallest of us on the other side stuck our arms through the hole and we told him to run and leap, we would pull him through.
That is exactly what happened. And when he stood up our DI stopped the clock with a look of utter disbelief on his face.
“The record time for this exercise in my time here stood at four minutes and twenty one seconds. You men did it in one minute and fifty eight seconds. Kroll, take this marker and write the Division number and time on the board. It’s the new record to beat.”
The rest of that morning went by like a euphoric high. We got to the mess hall at 5:00 am, and finally, got to go in before every other division. And for only us, there was no time limit on how long we ate, and how many times we went back up for seconds. We sat there for the better part of an hour regaling the reunited division of eighty six men on the highs and lows of the previous four hours.
The bond we built that night was perfect humanity. There was no unnecessary thought; there was no debate or want of power. There was no politics or mistrust. We were bonded as human beings by a common goal, and we knew that everything said was to aid each other, and that help could be given without having been asked for or without glory being assigned.
It is important in this society to build a common bond with each other. We have become mistrustful. For all the benefits we reap from our pride in diversity, one has to ask, is the cost of diversity unity?
Thursday, August 14, 2008
Battle Stations: part three
By 3:30 am, we were dried off and moving to the fire building. We were tasked with maneuvering through the interior of a ship, with no light at all, just by feeling the walls. We all linked together and I led the way through. I only got us lost once. At the other end we had to don fire equipment and put out three separate fires.
The obstacle course was exactly what you think it was. A lot of slithering on our bellies, getting up and over walls, climbing structures, etc… but the two things you might not think of in your imagination are: The actual-weight human dummy on the life spine board we had to carry with us, or the fact that we were all wearing gasmasks.
The final obstacle was a semi circular fifteen foot slide… and we had to go up it. But if any part of our body could be seen over the lip of the slide we had to come back down and start over. This proved to be unattainable for every single one of us. After spending half an hour giving each guy a chance to try and reach the top, if finally came to my turn. The logic was that because I was the tallest, I would be able to get the furthest up.
This is how I told them to do it. I laid on my side on the slide, then someone grabbed my feet and pushed as hard as they could. I was only half way up the slide when we reached the limit of help that the team could offer me. I put my hands against the side of the slide and wedged my back against the other side, and then I did the same with my knees. I have no idea how long it took me to do that sideways crawl up the slide, wedging myself slowly up inch by inch. At the very moment when I was closest to giving up, I chanced an upward glance.
That one movement had compromised my wedge and I felt myself begin to slip. In a leap of faith, I rolled onto my stomach and shot both my hands up to try and reach the top lip of the slide. I caught it with my left. I heard the gasps below me and in that pregnant pause of silence; I reached up with my right hand and planted both hands within solid grasp of victory.
I lay there on the slide, gasping for breath through the slow filters of the mask, eyes closed, face and mask mashed against the slide. I can feel the sweat on my palms, and I adjust my grip. I take a huge breath; the filters on the mask make a wheezing sound as I strain them. With baited breath, I pull.
I barely move at first, my arms pulling my limp body upward. I remember that I have legs and spread my legs into what can only be describes as frog legs and used my toes to push. As I began to move the forward momentum helped me keep moving. I slithered over the lip of the slide and crashed on the deck. Before my momentum died, I got up and went back to the lip of the slide.
Attached to the stretcher we were carrying was a length of rope. I told them to throw one end up to me. I caught it on the first try and began to haul the body and stretcher up the slide. Once I got the stretcher on the deck I threw the rope back down and hauled one of my shipmates up. Once he was up, I gave him the rope and said “you get the next guy”, then I collapsed. My DI, who had been on the deck through the entire exercise, walked over to where I lay heaving on the ground.
“Drill Instructor, can I please take my gasmask off? I can barely breathe in it.” I pleaded. I don’t need to imagine what a person goes through in an asthma attack, I felt it. He crouched down so we were at the same level, and quietly so only I could hear he said:
“No, Kroll. Wear it for a minute longer. You need to feel this. You need to know how to calm your breathing, and maintain control. Remember, if this was real, and you took off your mask, the first breath you take could kill you.”
After two minutes of the most concentrated breaths I have ever taken, he told me to take off the mask. We moved on to the next challenge rapidly. Jogging back to the main side of base, we sang the cadences we had learned and when those got old we would sing songs from the 60’s. We had two challenges left, the shooting range, and the evacuation hatch. The shooting range went quickly. It was more sitting and waiting your turn than team building. But at that moment, the rest was exactly what was needed.
The obstacle course was exactly what you think it was. A lot of slithering on our bellies, getting up and over walls, climbing structures, etc… but the two things you might not think of in your imagination are: The actual-weight human dummy on the life spine board we had to carry with us, or the fact that we were all wearing gasmasks.
The final obstacle was a semi circular fifteen foot slide… and we had to go up it. But if any part of our body could be seen over the lip of the slide we had to come back down and start over. This proved to be unattainable for every single one of us. After spending half an hour giving each guy a chance to try and reach the top, if finally came to my turn. The logic was that because I was the tallest, I would be able to get the furthest up.
This is how I told them to do it. I laid on my side on the slide, then someone grabbed my feet and pushed as hard as they could. I was only half way up the slide when we reached the limit of help that the team could offer me. I put my hands against the side of the slide and wedged my back against the other side, and then I did the same with my knees. I have no idea how long it took me to do that sideways crawl up the slide, wedging myself slowly up inch by inch. At the very moment when I was closest to giving up, I chanced an upward glance.
That one movement had compromised my wedge and I felt myself begin to slip. In a leap of faith, I rolled onto my stomach and shot both my hands up to try and reach the top lip of the slide. I caught it with my left. I heard the gasps below me and in that pregnant pause of silence; I reached up with my right hand and planted both hands within solid grasp of victory.
I lay there on the slide, gasping for breath through the slow filters of the mask, eyes closed, face and mask mashed against the slide. I can feel the sweat on my palms, and I adjust my grip. I take a huge breath; the filters on the mask make a wheezing sound as I strain them. With baited breath, I pull.
I barely move at first, my arms pulling my limp body upward. I remember that I have legs and spread my legs into what can only be describes as frog legs and used my toes to push. As I began to move the forward momentum helped me keep moving. I slithered over the lip of the slide and crashed on the deck. Before my momentum died, I got up and went back to the lip of the slide.
Attached to the stretcher we were carrying was a length of rope. I told them to throw one end up to me. I caught it on the first try and began to haul the body and stretcher up the slide. Once I got the stretcher on the deck I threw the rope back down and hauled one of my shipmates up. Once he was up, I gave him the rope and said “you get the next guy”, then I collapsed. My DI, who had been on the deck through the entire exercise, walked over to where I lay heaving on the ground.
“Drill Instructor, can I please take my gasmask off? I can barely breathe in it.” I pleaded. I don’t need to imagine what a person goes through in an asthma attack, I felt it. He crouched down so we were at the same level, and quietly so only I could hear he said:
“No, Kroll. Wear it for a minute longer. You need to feel this. You need to know how to calm your breathing, and maintain control. Remember, if this was real, and you took off your mask, the first breath you take could kill you.”
After two minutes of the most concentrated breaths I have ever taken, he told me to take off the mask. We moved on to the next challenge rapidly. Jogging back to the main side of base, we sang the cadences we had learned and when those got old we would sing songs from the 60’s. We had two challenges left, the shooting range, and the evacuation hatch. The shooting range went quickly. It was more sitting and waiting your turn than team building. But at that moment, the rest was exactly what was needed.
Battle Stations: part two
At 2:00am the switches are thrown and the battle stations alarm rings through the barracks. Instantly every recruit is awake and at attention in front of their rack. Drill Instructors are fully dressed in battle gear and instruct us to dress the same. Same uniform as before, the only additions are a towel wrapped around the beanie and under the metal helmet and our seabags with a change of clothes.
The division is split into four groups, each is sent in a different direction. Our group numbered twenty one men. Once out of the barracks the need for the uniform became clear, the thermometer was reading -15 degrees. Drill Instructor Delaney started us down the middle of the road at a light jog. Station number one was the practical seamanship test. Believe it or not, there is a room on the base with a life-size midsection and forecastle of a ship. And tonight we had to show that we knew how to steer, control the speed, and yes even moor to a pier.
From there, we went for the long jog to the administrative side of the base, where the fire and water tests would be, all the while singing and chanting at the top of our lungs. The night we arrived at boot camp we were all tired, confused and out of our element stumbling around in the dark, and as we were marched to our barracks wearing nothing but a navy sweat-suit, the more senior divisions did their best to scare the hell out of us while doing their own battle stations. So as we ran past the new recruits in their smurf suits freshly shorn, shivering and scared, we screamed, and cried, and made all kinds of horrors for their benefit.
I am from southern California, so swimming comes naturally to me, but that night in the pool, I came as close as I ever have to drowning. It seemed like a simple and fun test. We changed into the spare set of dungarees we had brought with us, and filed into the pool area. One by one we climbed to the 20 foot diving platform and jumped off. I was one of the first to jump, and when I broke the surface and started swimming toward the side the drill instructor pointed me and the other guys back toward the middle of the pool.
When all twenty one of us were in the water, he started the clock. Ten minutes of treading water. The first few minutes seem easy. You take off your pants, tie them into knots at the end. Then by scooping them over your head (dunking yourself in the process) you eventually fill them with enough air to wrap around your neck and use to float on. This takes your mind off the burn momentarily, but it eventually takes more energy than you can muster.
At about five minutes you start to really wonder if you can do it. Already your legs are fire and your arms are beginning to tire. You try just floating on your back on top of the water, but after about a minute of constantly having to kick and then kick some more to readjust for kicking too much, all the while flailing your wrists, elbows and shoulders, you just keep moving trying to find the easiest way to keep even the lips airbound.
At about nine minutes, I was pretty sure I was done for. My legs were putty, my arms were infernos, and I was starting to see the shadow of panic in the corner of my eye. At that very moment, an arm grabbed me under the shoulder and started to pull me. I turned in the water and saw that several of my shipmates had linked arms in the water to help keep each other afloat.
When the ten minutes was up our drill instructor pointed to the far end of the pool, where he had pushed into the water a tented circular life raft. We swam to it and I immediately grabbed the support rope along the outside. We formed a line in the water and me and a couple other guys formed a sort of human ladder for each other to climb into the raft with. All told I was the last man in the raft, and I wish I could say it was under my own steam. My arms were blown, and they pulled me in.
The division is split into four groups, each is sent in a different direction. Our group numbered twenty one men. Once out of the barracks the need for the uniform became clear, the thermometer was reading -15 degrees. Drill Instructor Delaney started us down the middle of the road at a light jog. Station number one was the practical seamanship test. Believe it or not, there is a room on the base with a life-size midsection and forecastle of a ship. And tonight we had to show that we knew how to steer, control the speed, and yes even moor to a pier.
From there, we went for the long jog to the administrative side of the base, where the fire and water tests would be, all the while singing and chanting at the top of our lungs. The night we arrived at boot camp we were all tired, confused and out of our element stumbling around in the dark, and as we were marched to our barracks wearing nothing but a navy sweat-suit, the more senior divisions did their best to scare the hell out of us while doing their own battle stations. So as we ran past the new recruits in their smurf suits freshly shorn, shivering and scared, we screamed, and cried, and made all kinds of horrors for their benefit.
I am from southern California, so swimming comes naturally to me, but that night in the pool, I came as close as I ever have to drowning. It seemed like a simple and fun test. We changed into the spare set of dungarees we had brought with us, and filed into the pool area. One by one we climbed to the 20 foot diving platform and jumped off. I was one of the first to jump, and when I broke the surface and started swimming toward the side the drill instructor pointed me and the other guys back toward the middle of the pool.
When all twenty one of us were in the water, he started the clock. Ten minutes of treading water. The first few minutes seem easy. You take off your pants, tie them into knots at the end. Then by scooping them over your head (dunking yourself in the process) you eventually fill them with enough air to wrap around your neck and use to float on. This takes your mind off the burn momentarily, but it eventually takes more energy than you can muster.
At about five minutes you start to really wonder if you can do it. Already your legs are fire and your arms are beginning to tire. You try just floating on your back on top of the water, but after about a minute of constantly having to kick and then kick some more to readjust for kicking too much, all the while flailing your wrists, elbows and shoulders, you just keep moving trying to find the easiest way to keep even the lips airbound.
At about nine minutes, I was pretty sure I was done for. My legs were putty, my arms were infernos, and I was starting to see the shadow of panic in the corner of my eye. At that very moment, an arm grabbed me under the shoulder and started to pull me. I turned in the water and saw that several of my shipmates had linked arms in the water to help keep each other afloat.
When the ten minutes was up our drill instructor pointed to the far end of the pool, where he had pushed into the water a tented circular life raft. We swam to it and I immediately grabbed the support rope along the outside. We formed a line in the water and me and a couple other guys formed a sort of human ladder for each other to climb into the raft with. All told I was the last man in the raft, and I wish I could say it was under my own steam. My arms were blown, and they pulled me in.
Saturday, August 9, 2008
Battle Stations: part one
Boot Camp: It was before dawn on an October morning in Waukegan, IL. It was as normal as a day can be in below zero temperatures with thousands of people working and marching. We woke up at 4:00am as usual, to the sound of light switches being thrown.
You would think that something as quiet as turning on a few light switches wouldn’t evoke the frenzy and alertness that comes with eighty six men jumping out of their racks. But that was the way it was, starting on that first morning of September 17th, we had begun training ourselves to listen in our sleep.
That morning when our drill instructor flicked the switches for the first time, we learned what would happen if you were not out of bed by the time the last of the ten switches was thrown. If you had trouble getting out of bed, you would be sore all day from the man-killers and eight-count body-builders.
We had 30 minutes to shower, shave and get dressed in the uniform of the day which on this brisk morning consisted of long underwear, sweats, dungaree jeans, t-shirt, sweater, dungaree shirt, wind breaker, raincoat, gloves, beanie cap, utility belt, and two pairs of socks. Mind you, we were only marching the equivalent of two blocks to the mess hall and the school house. That is how truly cold it was.
The day progressed, and Division 506 went on our way, doing the standard seamanship classes and naval history classes, lunch, indoor drills, more classes, dinner, then folding and stowage drills, an hour or two of free time, and then finally at 10:00pm, lights out. We would not be sleeping long that night.
You would think that something as quiet as turning on a few light switches wouldn’t evoke the frenzy and alertness that comes with eighty six men jumping out of their racks. But that was the way it was, starting on that first morning of September 17th, we had begun training ourselves to listen in our sleep.
That morning when our drill instructor flicked the switches for the first time, we learned what would happen if you were not out of bed by the time the last of the ten switches was thrown. If you had trouble getting out of bed, you would be sore all day from the man-killers and eight-count body-builders.
We had 30 minutes to shower, shave and get dressed in the uniform of the day which on this brisk morning consisted of long underwear, sweats, dungaree jeans, t-shirt, sweater, dungaree shirt, wind breaker, raincoat, gloves, beanie cap, utility belt, and two pairs of socks. Mind you, we were only marching the equivalent of two blocks to the mess hall and the school house. That is how truly cold it was.
The day progressed, and Division 506 went on our way, doing the standard seamanship classes and naval history classes, lunch, indoor drills, more classes, dinner, then folding and stowage drills, an hour or two of free time, and then finally at 10:00pm, lights out. We would not be sleeping long that night.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
