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His
hell started the moment the bus came to a stop. He looked out the window and saw a line of
men and women in smoky the bear hats. They were standing at attention. Not one of them had
smiles on their faces, and all seemed to be staring his way. His fear went up a notch as a
big black man stepped towards the bus.
He came up the steps, taking his hat off as he did so. A long scar
extended from the corner of his eye down to the middle of his cheek. He stood at the front
of the aisle glaring at everyone aboard.
Without warning, he started screaming.
‘Everybody on their feet! Now!’
They all did what they were told.
Bradley looked straight ahead, afraid to move. Out of his peripheral vision, he saw the
fear on the boy standing next to him. On the ride from the airport, the boy talked about
how he wasn’t afraid of drill instructors, and how basic training would be a breeze.
He now had a tear slowly drifting down his cheek.
‘I am Technical Sergeant Haynes!’ the man yelled as he slowly
made his way down the aisle checking out each and every person on board. Occasionally
coming nose to nose with them, breathing and spitting on them as he spoke. ‘I will be
your training instructor during your stay here. I
will filter out the weak, and send you home. I will make you miss your mommy’s and
daddy’s more and more each day. I will be your worst nightmare. None of you will be
my friend. All of you will
hate me. By the time some of you leave - certainly not all of you will make it all the way
through, you will wish me dead. But you will respect me!’
Stopping next to Bradley, Sergeant Haynes leaned down, and put his face
into his. His breath was horrible. Close to gagging, he fought his temptation to turn his
head away.
‘What is your name, boy?’
‘Bradley, sir.’
‘Bradley? You sound like a mama’s boy! Is that the case you
pathetic loser? Are you going to miss your mama?
Do you wish she were here now? To comfort you? To tell you it is going to be all
right?’
Bradley did his best to keep the tears in, but they burst out against
his will. He closed his eyes, wishing the
nightmare to be over.
‘Well, well. You are a mama’s boy. A little sissy. You will
be the first to go, son. Fear not. Your stay will not
be long.’
Sergeant Haynes proceeded down the aisle. Bradley wiped his eyes and
face with his sleeve, no longer caring
about the circumstances if he was caught moving. It couldn’t get much worse. He had
already been humiliated in
front of the people he would be living with every day for the next six weeks. He was a shy
boy to begin with, and had
always had trouble making friends. Now, thinking how much easier it would have been to
make it through training with
some buddies, he knew it would be nearly impossible for him to graduate.
They marched there way to the barracks. When they arrived, they came to
a halt.
Bradley looked up at the enormous building staring down at him.
There were no windows. It had a single stairwell connected to the side
that jig-jagged every which way up to the third floor.
Sergeant Haynes walked to the front of the flight. He had his hands
behind his back, pacing back and forth.
‘This is your home for the next few weeks. You will wake up each
and every morning at 5 AM. You will file out
here to where you are standing now. If you aren’t out here standing at attention at
exactly three minutes after the
hour, fully dressed as a sparkling young Airman, you will pay the price. Flight
atten-tion!’
They all stood straight up, with their fists pinned to their sides.
‘Flight. Fallout!’
No one moved.
‘Get your asses upstairs! Pronto!’
They all scrambled upstairs in a flurry.
As they reached their room, they stood in a pack around the door. There
was mumbling among the crowd. Sergeant Haynes came in, and the room quickly grew silent.
‘Everyone grab a cot!’
They spread out trying to grab the first available bed.
‘This will be your bed from now on. No one can switch.
Don’t bother taking your clothes off! You will be up at
0500 hours. That is approximately two hours from now!’
There was a simultaneous moaning that echoed throughout the
room.
‘Silence!’ Sergeant Haynes shouted. ‘Now get
to sleep!’
Bradley lay down on his cot and shut his eyes. Tears rolled
down both cheeks. He fell asleep with his bladder
about to burst.
Three weeks into training, Eddie was sitting in the day room,
appointing duties to the members of his element.
He was the chosen element leader. His job was to look after ten others in the flight to
make sure they accomplished
their duties. If they failed, or gave less than stellar performance, Eddie would be the
one held responsible. The
others looked him up to him. He was a couple of years older, and he had confidence that
they admired.
Eddie was also a practical joker.
Once Eddie was chosen the element leader, and found out that Bradley
was his responsibility, he knew he had to
shape him up.
He spent more time with Bradley than anyone else. The others pretty
much had it together. Once they were told to
correct something, they did it, and never had the same problem.
Bradley, however, was a constant screw up.
Eddie had been forced to scrub the toilets. He had to make each
and every bed in his element, hospital corners
intact. He had to serve a day of kitchen duty, washing dishes, mopping the floor, and
worst of all had to force each and every person to clean their plate. Numerous times, they
had gobbled it up, only to vomit at his feet. Eddie then had to mop the mess up that lay
before him. All of these dreadful chores had to be performed because of one person:
Bradley McKee.
It was time for him to pay.
Bradley had always dreaded performing door guard. He had been in
training for three weeks, and had been lucky
enough to avoid it. His luck had run out.
Standing just inside the door, he studied his manual with a flashlight.
The lights were turned off throughout the barracks. Some of his fellow flight members were
murmuring in their sleep, no doubt having nightmares about what had occurred thus far, and
what was yet to come.
The clock above his stand notified him that it was time to do his
checks. He closed his book, looked out the
window in the door, hoping not to see Sergeant Haynes, and started his rounds.
It was his job to walk up and down the aisles looking for anything that
may be out of place. He checked under the
cots to make sure the boots were lined up; he looked at each and every locker to make sure
they were locked.
Confident that everything was in check, his rounds took him to the latrine.
He slid open the door and walked in. He started in the shower to
make sure there wasn’t any soap scum on the
walls or in the soap dishes. He checked the floor for any pubic hair that may be lying
around. Grateful that the walls and floors were clean, he headed to the stalls. There were
five of them. He had to look for the same things that he did in the shower, as well as any
brown marks on the seats or in the toilets. After adding fresh rolls of toilet paper, he
stepped to the sinks.
The sinks and mirrors were fairly clean. He wiped a few streaks
off of the mirrors, and threw the paper towel in the trash. Before heading out, he took
one quick look around. Satisfied, he stepped back into the barracks.
The last place he had to check was the day room. It had one couch
against the far wall, and a podium that stood
in front of the chalkboard. He walked around the room, swung his flashlight from side to
side, and didn’t see anything out of place. He walked over to couch, took out the
cushions to check underneath them, and replaced them. He was about to walk out of the room
when he noticed something written on the chalkboard. ‘BRADLEY MUST DIE!’ He
thought it had to be a joke. Someone obviously snuck in here. Someone was just trying to
scare him. He thought
about leaving it on the board, but thought better of it. The drill instructor would not
appreciate him turning one of the other Airman in. Especially if he didn’t know which
one it could be. It would obviously look like a bad joke to
the Sergeant, and he may take it out on the entire flight. He thought it best just to act
like nothing happened, and
took the eraser to the board.
Just as he lay the eraser down, he heard a thumping come from the door
to the barracks. He jumped back and
knocked the eraser on the floor. He quickly rushed out of the room.
Shaking nervously, he approached the door fearing the worst. Glancing
at the clock, he noticed he had ten minutes
until his shift was over.
Figures, he thought.
Standing at attention in front of the door, he opened the window.
Drill instructor Haynes stood there, with a look of hatred.
‘Let me in,’ he said angrily, gritting his teeth.
Although Bradley knew who he was, and had known him for three weeks
now, he had to check his identification.
‘Sir, may I see your authority to enter?’
‘Thomas, open the damn door,’ he said. ‘Now.’ He
put his nose to the glass on the outside of the door, looked at
Bradley directly into his eyes and added, ‘That is an order.’
Damn, Bradley thought. I knew this would happen.
‘Sir, may I see your authority to enter?’
‘Thomas. You are really trying to get on my bad side, aren’t
you?’
Sergeant Haynes actually smirked.
Bradley stood there shaking like a leaf. Sweat was running down his
temples, and both of his hands were
sticky. He had a terrible itch on his nose, but he couldn’t move.
‘Thomas. If you don’t open the door right now, you will be
recycled. You don’t want that, do you?’
Not knowing what to say, he stood there trembling with fear. No,
he didn’t want that. To be recycled meant that he
would have to repeat a week of training. That is an extra week of guard duty, kitchen
duty, PT, scrubbing toilets, and many other indescribable acts. Not to mention the drill
instructors’ getting in his face. Either way, he thought, he couldn’t win. If I
open the door, I’m recycled. Keep it closed, I’m recycled. The only way out of
this is not to open the door, and wish for the best.
Sergeant Haynes dropped his head in disappointment, put his hand in his
pocket, and withdrew a set of keys.
‘Stand back, Airman,’ he said.
Bradley took a step back, but remained at attention.
Sergeant Haynes opened the door, and stepped in.
‘Thomas. Go wake up your relief, and then get to the
dayroom.’
Bradley said ‘Yes, sir’, and did what he was told.
After waking Airman Graham, he went into the dayroom and sat down on
the couch. He put his head in his hands,
and started to cry.
The click of the drill instructors boots approached. He brought his
head up, wiped his eyes, took a deep breath,
and prepared himself.
The door opened, and Sergeant Haynes stepped in.
He approached Bradley, and stopped inches in front of him.
‘What the hell are you thinking, Thomas? Did I give you permission
to sit on the couch? Is this your living
room?’
Instantly, Bradley stood to attention. He had to side step Sergeant
Haynes. To make contact with a drill
instructor is another thing unacceptable in training.
Now facing the chalkboard, his jaw dropped at what he saw.
Sergeant Haynes asked ‘What’s the problem?’ and then
turned around.
‘What the....." he began.
The board now read ‘HAYNES MUST DIE’. The eraser was on the
floor, where Bradley had dropped it.
Sergeant Haynes turned towards him, and the look he gave him made
Bradley fear for his life.
‘Explain yourself!’ he screamed. Spit flew into
Bradley’s face.
Tears slowly ran down his cheeks. His lips were trembling.
‘You are truly a piece of garbage, Thomas. Your career in the Air
Force is now over. Now clean that board off, and
then sit your ass down. I will be right back.’
After he left the room, Bradley walked towards the board, and took the
eraser to it. After he finished, he sat
in the middle of the floor. He was confused, scared, and couldn’t stop the tears from
flowing.
It had always been a dream of his to be in the Air Force. He had always
envisioned himself flying an F-16 above the clouds, overlooking the geography below.
Whether it would be desert, mountains, the ocean, or a foreign country dropping bombs if
the need arose. That dream was now shattered. He wondered if he could join the Navy. That
idea didn’t appeal to him because he had a fear of water. It’s one thing to be
flying over the ocean. It was quite another to be in the ocean.
His father had flown in the gulf war, and was one of the few who died.
He was not shot down, however. It had been concluded by the investigators that his father
was not at fault. It turned out to be an engine malfunction.
Bradley wanted to continue his father’s name, and finish a career
that his father had started. He wanted to make Colonel, one step above Lieutenant Colonel,
his father’s rank, and visit his grave. Kneel down in front of the tombstone, pray,
and pin the bird on the American flag that draped over the stone.
All of these thoughts, but the one that took precedence over all
the others was the fact that he hadn’t written what was on the board. Thinking of all
the members of his flight, and if any of them could have a grudge against him, he came up
with a blank.
He had kept his mouth shut the three weeks he was there. He
offered help to those who needed it, and took advice when it was given. It was just not
possible, at least in his mind, to have an enemy among his flight. The only thing that he
could come up with, and it was a long shot, was that maybe he had rubbed someone the wrong
way. Maybe it was because he was from Alabama, and had a slight accent. Maybe it was
because he was so quiet, nothing had seemed to bother him, and someone was jealous of that
fact. He had no idea. The fact remained that he was held accountable for the words on the
chalkboard, and he was going to pay.
He had just gotten control of himself when he heard a scream coming
from the latrine. ‘Thomas!’
Immediately standing, he ran to the latrine. He opened the door, and
instantly came to a stand still. The sight was so shocking, that he forgot to come to
attention. It was the last thing on his mind.
On every mirror, six of them, was written HAYNES IS A FAG!
It was written in what looked like red paint.
Master Sergeant Haynes looked ready to explode. Veins were
popping out of his neck and forearms. If his biceps
were showing, they would undoubtedly show the same thing. He was leaning over slightly,
looking ready to charge.
Through gritted teeth, and an obvious amount of patience, Sergeant
Haynes said, ‘Clean these now, and then
I will see you in my office.’
Sergeant Haynes stormed by him, brushing against his side. Still not at
attention, Bradley turned around and
watched him walk out.
Grabbing a sponge and bucket out from under the Ssnk, he walked into
the showers to fill the bucket with water. When he approached the first mirror, he noticed
a razor blade in the soap dish. He sat the bucket down, and picked the razor up.
All at once, the disappointment overwhelmed him. His dreams of
following in his father’s footsteps was shattered. He would never make colonel, or
get to fly in the United States Air Force.
Looking down at his wrist, fate called to him.
The other Airmen were sitting in the day room as the body was being
taken out of the barracks. Eddie Graham was
telling the others what had happened.
‘I tell you man. He woke me up for guard duty, and he looked as
scared as hell. He was shaking all over man.’
I can’t possibly be responsible for this, can I? he thought to
himself.
‘I got up and started my shift, you know? Not thinking much about
it. I thought maybe he had fallen asleep on the
job, and had a nightmare.’
It was just a joke, he repeated inside his head.
‘Instead of going to bed, though, he came in here. By that time, I
just figured the guy was looney-tunes, and started to study. The next thing I know, he
walked into the latrine. He appeared to be in a trance. That is when I started to get the
creeps myself.
‘I stayed at the door until my first check. I figured he may be in
there taking care of business, you know? No reason to really get all worried about some
guy I barely knew. Anyway, during the check, I went into the latrine, and there he was
lying on the floor. Blood was pooled up around his head and running into the drain. The
strangest thing was written on the mirror. It said ‘I’M SORRY DAD’. It was
written in his own blood man.
‘I ran out of the latrine to call the front office. Before I could
though, there was a knock on the door. It was Master Sergeant Haynes.’
Eddie was performing his checks that evening when he entered the
latrine.
He had been burdened all day
about the prank he pulled on Airman Thomas, and he didn’t know whether to blame
himself or to try his best to forget about it. He knew he couldn’t go to anyone with
a confession. That would do nothing but harm, and it wouldn’t bring Thomas back. The
question was whether or not he could live with himself.
Finished with the toilets, he made his way to the sinks.
A razor blade sat in a soap dish.
His answer was set before him.
©2001 Robert L. Hinton
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