In the Company of Strangers
Published by Jim Haffner at Smashwords
Copyright 2010 by Jim Haffner
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This is part 2 of a completed manuscript and is a TRUE STORY.
In part 1 “Swan Song”, I have been accepted to the Aviation Candidate Officer’s School (AOCS) in Pensacola, Florida. I have just arrived at NAS Pensacola and I am about to begin my transformation to a Naval Aviator. I pursued my dream of flying for the US Navy for 2 years before I was accepted in my senior year of college at the University of Toledo. Since that time, I have continued to prepare myself physically and mentally for the demands of AOCS. I am following my brother, Mike who graduated from Cleveland State and joined the Navy and is currently flying the A-6E Intruder off the decks of the USS Roosevelt. And the story continues…
As my foot touches the green carpet both doors fly open. I hold my breath and wait. Several sailors stream out of the building and head straight for me. I’m under attack. They’re dressed in matching khaki uniforms with black shiny shoes and a square gold belt buckle at their waist that glistens in the sun. My bag falls lifeless to the ground next to my feet as they step closer to the edge of the top step. They’re standing just a few feet from me.
The instruction the recruiter told me is just on the tip of my tongue when the sailor directly in front of me barks out, “STAND FAST AND STATE YOUR BUSINESS.” I almost jump out of my skin when he speaks. I stand there speechless. His voice is loud and deep and my mind goes completely blank. He’s standing with the other instructors at his side and I’m looking straight up at him. I’ve never seen someone this tall. I don’t move a muscle. I try to open my mouth but I make no sound. He speaks again, “CANDIDATE, STAND FAST AND STATE YOUR BUSINESS!” My mind unfreezes and the thoughts start running at top speed. What? Where? Who? What should I do?
The instruction. Oh, yeah. I start, “Candidate James….”
He interrupts me. “WRONG, WRONG, WRONG.” He’s screaming so loud it makes it hard to concentrate on what he’s saying. “CANDIDATE, YOU WILL RESPOND ONLY WITH YOUR LAST NAME. DO IT AGAIN!” I can feel my heat beating out of control in my chest.
My mind is way ahead of my body. I know I should respond but I can’t get the words out. I hesitate and try to collect my thoughts. I take a deep breath and start again, “Candidate Jam…” and then I catch myself. Too late. I see his expression change as soon as I say the first syllable of my name.
He continues to attack, “CANDIDATE, YOU WILL RESPOND WITH ONLY YOUR LAST NAME. I SAY AGAIN, STAND FAST AND STATE YOUR BUSINESS.”
Now more sure of myself I try again, “Candidate Haffner reporting.”
“WRONG. CANDIDATE, YOU WILL RESPOND WITH AVIATION OFFICER CANDIDATE, STATE YOUR LAST NAME, OF CLASS 2087. DO YOU UNDERSTAND?”
“Yes.” My mind is at terminal velocity. I desperately try to follow what he’s saying but the tone of his voice and the speed that he is talking scares the hell out of me. This is some serious shit.
“SPEAK UP CANDIDATE. I CAN’T HEAR YOU!”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Wrong, wrong, wrong. You will respond with AYE, AYE, SIR. Do you understand?”
“Aye, aye Sir.”
“CANDIDATE, WHAT IS YOUR NAME”
“Aviation Officer Candidate Haffner of Class 2…” I can’t remember the number. He said it so fast I’ve already forgotten what the number is. Something about a class but I’m lost.
He quickly responds, “CANDIDATE, YOUR CLASS NUMBER IS 2..0..8..7!”
“Yes, Sir.” My mistakes are mounting. I just need him to slow down and lower his voice.
“CANDIDATE, You will respond with AYE, AYE, SIR. Do you understand?”
“Aye, aye, Sir.”
“CANDIDATE, WHAT IS YOUR NAME?”
“Aviation Officer Candidate Haffner of Class 2087 reporting as ordered.” There I finished it. Now I can follow him up the stairs into the barracks and get this show on the road. He doesn’t move. He continues to stare down at me and I can feel the sweat continue to roll down the sides of my face. The silence is killing me. I’m sure he can see my heart beating in my chest.
He moves and I flinch when he starts, “NOW GET UP HERE!” he yells pointing to the top step.
I hurriedly walked up the last couple of stairs and stand right in front of the other instructors. I’m within their striking distance and they look larger than life. The instructor talking to me looks like he has enough gold bars on his collar that I must be facing a general. The other instructors looked like carbon copies of the first except they have fewer bars. Am I on some weird planet? Before I can finish my thought the instructor to his left shouts, “CANDIDATE, Stand at ATTENTION when you are being addressed.”
I do my best to stand straight with my shoulders back. The second instructor walks up to me and says, “Stand STRAIGHT and SQUARE your shoulders.”
I’m already on my toes and try to stand straighter. A third instructor walks up to my side and looks at what I’m holding. At least I think he looks at what I’m holding. I try to keep my eyes locked on the instructor in front of me. The instructor at my side starts, “YOU WILL WEAR ALL ISSUED CLOTHING. YOU WILL BUTTON ALL BUTTONS.”
It seems like a rhetorical statement so I don’t move. I lock my arms at my sides to keep still.
He hesitates and then continues. “CANDIDATE, PUT ON YOUR COAT. QUICKLY! MOVE! MOVE!” The words are flying so fast it’s hard to keep up. I have to keep repeating to myself what he says because he speaks so loud that I jump whenever he starts a command.
Maybe he wants me to put my jacket on. I’m not sure. What I do know is that I don’t have a lot of time to think. I drop my bag again and start to put on my jacket. Is this what he wants me to do? When I put my first arm in he doesn’t move or speak. Silence must be good. He just keeps staring at me so I quickly put the other arm in and then go back to standing straight to see what will happen next. When my hands return back to my sides the instructor repeats, “YOU WILL WEAR ALL ISSUED CLOTHING AND YOU WILL BUTTON ALL BUTTONS, CANDIDATE.”
How am I supposed to know that’s what he wants? I button the rest of the buttons down the front of my jacket. I do my best to stand straight with my hands at my side, trying to mimic the way he’s standing. The problem is I’m an inch shy of six feet and they look to be much taller.
Quickly he speaks again, “CANDIDATE, BUTTON ALL YOUR BUTTONS.”
I run my hand down the front of my jacket and I recheck all the buttons. I find an unbuttoned button at the collar of my jacket and shakily button it. The jacket cuts into my neck but that’s the least of my worries. I’m facing this very pissed off general and if he wants to see my jacket buttoned then I’m going to do it.
“HURRY UP, CANDIDATE. YOU ARE OUT OF UNIFORM. QUICKLY, QUICKLY.”
What? I’ve already buttoned all my buttons. I look down and check again the buttons down the front of my jacket. All of them are closed so I snap back to attention, putting my hands at my sides.
The instructor looks disgusted. “CANDIDATE, YOU FORGOT THE BUTTONS ON YOUR SLEEVES. BUTTON THEM NOW!”
I try to quickly loop the small metallic buttons through what feels like the microscopic holes on my sleeves. The buttons are slippery from my sweaty hands, which makes things even harder. I’m wearing a long-sleeve dress shirt buttoned to the collar and a jeans jacket in this hot, humid Florida sun. I’m in hell and it’s getting hotter with every minute. Why did I bring this jacket? Why didn’t I store it in my bag before I got to the base? I’m brought quickly back to reality by the scream of the instructor, “GOOD! NOW STAND AT ATTENTION, CANDIDATE,” he reminds me.
I do my best to stand as tall and straight as I can. My hands are hanging at my sides and my balled fists are in front of my pockets. I’m standing with my feet about twelve inches apart. It’s my best imitation of a military stance. At least from the movies I’ve seen this is how I think they look. I’m grasping for anything to help.
“CANDIDATE, ARE YOU WATCHING ME?” Of course I am. He’s standing right in front of me. How can I NOT watch him? “IT LOOKS LIKE YOU’RE WATCHING ME, CANDIDATE. STOP LOOKING AT ME. LOOK THROUGH ME. YOU DON’T NEED TO LOOK AT ME. JUST LISTEN TO ME AND LOOK STRAIGHT THROUGH ME.”
What does that mean? How can I look at him but NOT look at him? The instructor hesitates for a minute but keeps staring at me. He leans into my face just inches from my eyes. “STOP LOOKING AT ME!”
I’m trying to keep calm but it’s very hard. I do my best to act as if he isn’t standing there but it’s difficult since he’s inches away from me yelling at the top of his lungs. I try to look at the front door of the building behind him but I can tell it’s not working. I know my eyes keep focusing on his face but it’s a habit. The nuns at St. Mary’s of the Falls always taught me to look someone in the eyes when they talked to me. I can still hear Sister Kathleen from second grade, “Look me in the eyes when I speak to you.” She had a metal ruler that she used to enforce rules. The instructors used their voice but the effect is the same.
“CANDIDATE, YOU’RE LOOKING AT ME AGAIN. LOOK STRAIGHT AHEAD AND JUST LISTEN.”
I know I’m failing but I’m doing my best to stand tall. My hands are still hanging at my sides gripping my pant legs.
“Wrong, wrong, wrong. Put YOUR HANDS at your sides.”
I think they’re at my sides so I shift them a little and then put them back. Where is this going? I’m lost again.
“CUFF your hands like this,” as he speaks he moves his fist up to my face to show me his finger tips pushing into his palm. His thumb is locked on the top of his fist and is bent along the top covering his index finger.
I do my best to duplicate what it looks he’s doing.