Chapter 5: Induction And Bootcamp

(JULY 1965)

"OI WAIT STOP! JIM, WAIT FOR ME!!"

"Who's the fucker screaming my name, wait.... that screeching voice sound familiar...." I widened my eyes in realization, "Mack!"

'That bastard is coming after all'

I unconsciously smiled at this, quickly yelling I shouted, "Old man! Stopped the bus!"

I yelled to the driver, who gave me a bewildered look but obliged.

Mack finally catch up and boarded the bus, he bent over with his hands on his knees as he tried to catch his breath enough to speak.

"Couldn't let you have all the fun, could I?" he said with a grin. "Besides, someone's gotta be there to save your sorry ass when you inevitably trip over your own ego."

I smirked, not missing a beat. "Oh please, Mack. The only thing tripping around here is your brain, trying to keep up with me. But hey, I'll let you tag along, someone's gotta carry my bags after all."

We both laugh at this, feeling a strange mix of relief and anticipation. The journey to the Induction Center couldn't have been more relaxing with this bastard around.

As the induction center came into view, I can see a plain exterior building with bold signage and secure entrance monitored by military personnel. I see other buses similar to ours come and go carrying other recruits.

The bus slowed to a stop, and we were herded out like cattle, forming lines as we waited for further instructions.

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The induction process went in a blur of paperwork, medical exams, and waiting. Lots of waiting.Mack and I were eventually assigned to the same unit, which made things easier. Having a familiar face among the sea of strangers is much better than none.

We were directed to a large hall where rows of tables were set up, each manned by stern looking officers. As we moved through the line, we were handed forms to fill out name, date of birth, next of kin. The usual bureaucratic stuff.

The sergeant, with his grizzled face and clipboard, called out my name. "Jackson, Jimmy J.!" he barked.

"Here, sir," I responded, stepping forward.

"Six foot two, 180 pounds (81 kg.)," I replied.

He scribbled something down and handed me a form. "Fill this out and head to the medical station. Next!"

Mack was right behind me. "Harrison, Mack G.," he said, trying to suppress a grin.

"Height, weight?" the sergeant repeated.

"Six foot, 172 pounds (78 kg.)," Mack answered.

As we moved to the medical station, Mack nudged me. "Can you believe this? Feels like we're signing up for a summer camp or something."

I chuckled. "Yeah, a summer camp with bullets and bombs. Just wait until we meet our drill sergeant."

The medical exam was as thorough as it was humiliating. We were poked, prodded, and asked a series of invasive questions. The doctor, a stern woman with a no-nonsense attitude, gave me a once-over, checking my reflexes, eyesight, and hearing.

'Yeah, I cant marry anymore.' I thought dead inside.

"Ever had any serious illnesses or injuries?" she asked, peering over her glasses.

"No, ma'am. Fit as a fiddle," I replied.

"Good. You'll need to be," she said, making a note on her clipboard. "Next!"

Mack emerged from his exam looking slightly shell-shocked. "I think that doctor saw parts of me even I haven't seen," he muttered.

I laughed at this. "Welcome to the Army, buddy."

Then after that, we were herded into a makeshift barbershop, where barbers with electric clippers awaited us. The long lines of recruits moved slowly, each man emerging from the chair looking like a newly shorn sheep.

Mack and I were near the back of the line, watching as the others lost their hair. "Man, I'm gonna miss my hair," Mack muttered, running a hand through his dark locks.

I laughed, though I feel a little disheartened. "Hey, it'll grow back. Besides, think of how much easier it'll be to keep clean."

When it was finally our turn, we sat down side by side. The barber wasted no time, buzzing off my hair with swift, efficient strokes. I watched the clumps fall to the floor, feeling strangely exposed with my ponytail gone.

'Sighh, I grown those babies in years.' I muttered, almost sobbing.

Mack, in the chair next to me, looked on the verge of tears. "Goodbye, beautiful hair," he lamented dramatically.

I couldn't help but laugh. "Come on, Mack, it's not that bad. At least now we'll match."

Once our haircuts were done, I couldn't help but comment, "We looked like a pair of freshly shaven nuts."we looked at each other and burst out laughing.

Next, we were herded into a supply room where we were issued our uniforms and gear. The quartermaster, a burly man with a gruff demeanor, tossed us each a set of fatigues, boots, and a duffle bag filled with essentials.

"Try these on, make sure they fit," he barked.

Mack held up his uniform, eyeing it critically. "Think this makes my ass look big?"

"Oh please, look at my junk, its prodding out my uniform." I shot back, grinning.

The other recruits burst out laughing but were quickly silenced by the nearby sergeant.

As I pulled on the olive drab fatigues, I felt a sense of pride mixed with excitement. This was real. I was no longer just Jimmy James Jackson. I was now Private Jimmy James Jackson, U.S. Army.

With our uniforms on and duffle bags slung over our shoulders, we were marched out to the parade ground for our first formation. The sun was beginning to set, casting long shadows across the asphalt as we lined up.

Sergeant Reynolds, our drill sergeant, wasted no time in making his presence known. He was a towering figure with a voice like a rooster crowing near your ear.

"Alright, maggots! Welcome to hell!" he barked, pacing back and forth in front of us. "For the remaining of your time here you'll only answer 'Yes Drill Sergeant! and No Drill Sergeant! Are we clear?!"

""YES DRILL SERGEANT!""

"You're here to be turned into soldiers, not boys playing dress-up. My job is to break you down and build you back up. Any questions?"

""No Drill Sergeant!""

"GODDAMNIT! I cant hear you ladies, yell it up again!"

""NO DRILL SERGEANT""

Reynolds' eyes swept over us for a few seconds and continued speaking, "From now on, you belong to me. You will eat when your told to! sleep when your told to! and breathe when your told to! You will follow my orders without question, and you will learn to work as a team. Understood?!"

""Yes Drill Sergeant!""

"UNDERSTOOD??!"

""YES DRILL SERGEANT!"" We chorused more louder than ever.

"Good. Now drop down +and give me fifty," he commanded.

As we hit the ground and started doing push-ups, I caught Mack's eye. He was grinning despite the strain.

"Just like old times, Mack, huh?" I said with a grin.

He managed a grin between his panting breaths. "Yeah," He said. "Except this time, I can't quit." 

My grin widened. "Good, 'cause I need you to keep up, Mack. Can't have you slacking off."

The drill sergeant's voice boomed over us, but for a moment, it felt like we were back in the schoolyard, pushing each other to run that extra mile or lift that extra weight, having brawls and street fights. We always have each other back. this one will not be different.