We finally got herded onto some buses at around midnight and were taken to Lackland AFB. We were too scared and too tired on the bus to even talk. Once we got to in-processing, we were given a few supplies, a sandwich, and had our feet tested to see what kind of shoes we would need later. But mostly we just sat around. People filed in and filed out, but for some reason, my name would never get called to file out. So I waited. And waited. By 2am, I was finally called to my squadron. We took the bus to some suspect looking building. When we filed off, there was a female MTI there waiting for us...screaming. She ushered us off the bus and filed us into a dorm. We all sat on the floor (we would not be able to sit on the couches until graduation) while she yelled at us and told us how grateful she was that she wasn't our TI because we were the most pathetic excuse for trainees...blah blah blah. There were a few trainees that were there to help us "adjust", "teach us the ropes" and whatnot. But pretty much, they thought it was a good opportunity to yell at us, too. Other trainees! They taught us how to do our hair and basically what to expect the next day. They also were on EC duty, which is basically night watch. At this point we are too new to know the proper procedures, but I can assure you...my time definitely comes.
By about 3:30am, we were sent off to bed. Nobody slept a wink. You could hear sobs in the back of the bays and we were all just waiting for our MTI to come in to start reaming us. We had no idea what to expect.
Reville starts at 0500. We didn't know what to do, but we did get to sleep in that day because we
had just got to bed 1 1/2 hours earlier. Around 0930, we got to meet our lovely MTI...TSgt Fisher. Born and bred hillbillie, you could actually hear the drawl in each word he shouted. Favorite phrases would include "What the piss, trainee?" and "Ya'll are retarded, you know that?" He was tall and he, like all the other MTIs, wore the Smokey Bear hat. You know the one I'm talking about. A symbol that, to this day, makes me stand straighter, look dead ahead and shut my pie hole.
TSgt Fisher calling someone retarded.He yelled a lot. I don't really recall anymore what about. Anything, really. That first day we spent 3 hours making our beds, aligning our beds, cleaning the floors (hand and knees only...no brooms), and scrubbing the bathrooms. Oh, you can be sure everyone had a job: chrome cleaner, latrine queen, shoe aligner. Later on, leadership positions would be assigned. We were so scared of getting yelled at, we fumbled and kept our heads down as to not make eye contact. It was scary! But we also didn't know the proper way to do anything, so it just made it worse. Instead of just asking to be taught, we'd just keep trying and failing. To make matters worse, anytime you spoke, you had to use a reporting statement: "Sir, Trainee Banks reports as ordered."
Eventually TSgt Fisher got tired of yelling and it was time to eat. Eating is challenging, to say the least. Our first meals were very short. I'm talking 10 minutes from lining up, to finishing your bite. With 50 people to get fed, that's not a lot of time. First, you always have to look ahead...difficult when you are trying to select what you are going to have. Both hands have to be on the tray and you actually side step, sliding your tray along like a moron through the whole line until you are done. There are fridges full of desserts and granola bars that we would die for, but they are sort of off limits. See, there is a certain way you have to get these things. Certain procedures to follow but nobody will tell us how, so we never get them. The food is good though. We eventually learn to take it day by day, meal-to-meal. No matter how bad it would get...there was always an upcoming meal. At the end of the line is the Snake Pit. The Snake Pit is where the MTIs eat. They love to sniff out weakness. They will call you over and ask you questions, harass you, and if you answer things wrong, pull a 341. A 341 is a form that has your name on it so they can pull whenever you are retarded and write up your offense on it. You always have to have two on you at all times. They become the bane of our existence. Nobody really knows what happens when too many are pulled, but we know it's not good. Anyway, if you can sneak past the Snake Pit unscathed, you are gold. You finally get to eat. But, as soon as the table in front of you leaves, you have to leave. Luckily my flight learned this very early on and there was an unspoken agreement that you just eat slower. We always had to have 2 glasses of fluids and there was a myth that peanut butter would give you more energy. So everyone would stock up on peanut butter. Trust me, no change is noticed in energy levels due to mass consumption of peanut butter.
This first week there is no exercising. The Air Force and their politics. I hate to mention that we weren't allowed to be put "on our faces" 1 hour after a meal. Soft I tell ya! LOL I definitely didn't mind. We would move on to learning facing positions, marching, different commands, etc. It was actually a treat when we got to wear our uniforms. See, everyone can distinguish what week you are in training by certain things. When you are still wearing civilian clothes, they call you the Rainbow Flight (because you are all different colors). The guys eventually get their hair cut and black girls get their weaves taken out, but we start to look better in uniform. But the next week, we wear ABU's with sneakers. "Sneaker Weekers" we were called. Week 3 you get BCGs (Birth Control Glasses). Hanus, hanus eyewear. By week four, you get your name sewn on your uniforms (apparently by week four is when they decide you will probably stick around). Week 6 you are at BEAST so nobody sees you. Weeks 7 & 8 you wear your blues on some days. You get the idea. The earlier in training you are in, the meaner everyone is.
The hot mess in the blue is yours truly. We are learning facing movements and getting yelled at in front of a bunch of civilians that were there for that week's graduation ceremony.
Lookin' all kinds of butch. The ginger next to me ended up quitting.
"Right HACE!" Ha ha ha!
The hot mess in the blue is yours truly. We are learning facing movements and getting yelled at in front of a bunch of civilians that were there for that week's graduation ceremony.
Lookin' all kinds of butch. The ginger next to me ended up quitting.
"Right HACE!" Ha ha ha!0 Week is full of administrative duties, getting uniforms and supplies, learning to march and starting to study. Oh yes, there was always studying. The chain of command, clearing a weapon, rank structure/insignia...stupid stuff. By the end of BMT, our papers would be shredded from so much use. We also got drug tested, where you have to pee in a cup in front of somebody. I had the worst time with this. She just STARED! I was seriously the last person done because I just couldn't go! The third day in, I was chosen as Dorm Chief. This is, without a doubt, the worst job. You are in charge of all 50 people in your flight. If one screws up, you end up paying for it. It's terrible. I was definitely the oldest of my flight (freaking 18 year old pukes), so I'm sure that's why he chose me. I knew my life would be hell. TSgt Fisher wanted me to yell at everyone but it's just not me and I was no different than anyone else, so it didn't come easy. A male MTI is only allowed to be in the dorms until 8pm so it's up to the Dorm Chief to make sure everyone showers, cleans the dorms (again...always twice a day, no matter what), sing the AF Song, recite the Airmans Creed, check night displays, etc. Night displays are you uniform hung up a certain way at night so they are easily put on in the morning. Seems easy enough, but the buttons have to be facing a certain way, you have to have x, y, and z in these specific pockets, everything has to be centered on the hanger, the belt has to be facing a certain way. It sucked bad. I hated my flight already...by Day 3!
It is this week that we get our satchels. Our satchels carry all of our supplies. We are also issued our wet belts and canteens. HYDRATE! There is a ridiculous emphasis on hydrating and bathroom breaks would be lines of everyone filling their canteens (and peeing). By Week 6, we have two. These come in very handy and are also a huge nuisance. Your canteen and satchel is like a part of your uniform. You don't go anywhere without them. I cannot emphasize what a huge part of our lives they became.
Everyone always wants to know about showers. It's a communal shower with about 10 heads and it's very holocaust-like. Eventually we take our times, shave, etc., but those first days were a quick dip. Everyone was still shy and self conscious. By the end of training, everyone was WAY to comfortable around each other. We had to shower twice a day, which really sucked for the latrine crew, who had to have a dry floor when inspected.
Life was miserable by the end of 0 Week. On Sunday we went to church. It was understood that everyone goes to church, if you are religious or not (that way the MTI can go do something else for a while). It's the only time you can get away from MTIs, yelling, and so much discipline. So we went. Frowns on our faces, tears on our cheeks, absolutely miserable. But let me explain about church. Church ends up being our refuge. When you first walk in, every trainee is embracing the trainee next to him, swaying, singing along to songs. And they are belting out these songs! They are so happy to be there. As newbees, we don't understand, so we just stand there and wait while everyone else smiles, laughs, and relaxes. We get mocked a little by our frowns, as we are obviously new. It's funny, each week, everyone in that same week as you in training stands up and screams "Praise the Lord". 0 Weekers are just pathetic and the 8th Weekers are so loud and happy. Each week, you look forward to being one step closer to being that 8th Weeker in blues with their family. But church is a place to release. Everyone cries. Guys, girls, everyone. It sounds really strange, but you definitely understand when you are there. I went to Sunday School class a few times, but honestly, it's a recipe for disaster. You are already running on way too little sleep (you wake up at 0445 every morning) and they turn the lights down. It's WAY too easy to fall asleep (a cardinal sin no matter where you go). So, eventually I would stop going or attend the Muslim church. I know what you're thinking...but it was the best place ever! You could write letters, take naps, take your shoes off, and they brought CANDY. I will explain the deep craving for candy later. It is at church that we learn from the "older" trainees about Grilled Cheese Sunday. Grilled cheese sandwiches are served every Sunday but they don't tell you about it. You have to already know and you have to ask for it. This is a HUGE treat for us.
Week 1 begins and every morning starts with PT at 0500. You have to be ready and lined up at 5, so that means you have to be awake earlier than that to get ready. But you aren't supposed to be out of bed until 5, so you can see where you have to make the impossible happen. PT ended up being my favorite part of the day. It wasn't hard...I was expecting much worse. Mostly it was running, pushups, situps, pullups, etc. But I loved it. It was sort of relaxing.
Much like 0 Week, during Week 1 we have no idea what we are doing and I am severely hating life by being Dorm Chief. Now I'm doing pushups for EVERYTHING. In fact, I told some girls to do something and they didn't do it. So, my MTI makes ME do pushups and makes them point and laugh at me and say "ha ha, we aren't going to do what you say". They started to cry. It still makes me laugh! So stupid.
It is during Week 1 that we finally get to read our mail. All through 0 Week, mail had been pouring in, but we weren't allowed to read them. This is torture. It's your only tie to the outside world. Luckily my family and friends did an excellent job in writing me because I got mail everyday but one. Mail would be handed out during Airman's time. Airman's time is an hour, usually in the evening, when we discuss lessons learned, ask questions (as long as they aren't retarded and you use a reporting statement), and discuss upcoming events. There would be many a Airman's time where the stupid girls in my flight would battle it out and the claws would come out. It was because they were so stressed out, but it was still retarded. Anyway, mail is an amazing thing. People would seriously cry when they got mail. There is no way to communicate how important mail is to anyone in the military. But not all mail is good. Several girls got packages from family members that would have candy in it or something. The candy had to be thrown away or the MTI would share it amongst his pals at the Snake Pit. Unfortunately there wasn't a whole lot of time to write letters at first. Most of mine were written after lights out, blanket over my head, flashlight on.
We begin to learn customs and courtesies (which many pertain to officers), but the only problem is that Lackland is not full of officers roaming around to practice this stuff on (salutes, recognition, etc). In fact, we were still petrified about saluting when I left Lackland during tech school, which is where we finally figured it out.
I'm not really sure where we are going, but we are all lookin' rough.
Doing some medical in-processing. Notice the sneakers.We also got our M-16s issued and a couple times we practice taking them apart and putting them back together, but most of the time they stayed underneath our beds and were really just a pain in the butt when it came to cleaning under there.
At the end of Week 1, my prayers were answered. I was fired from my Dorm Chief position because we failed a mock inspection (apparently dust in dustpans is not acceptable). I must have had the biggest grin on my face because my flight laughed at me for looking so relieved.
0 Week and Week 1 are by far the worst parts of BMT.
