‘Tis a curious thing how Fate seems to await us. As I said earlier, due to a technicality, spending 5 years getting my B.S. and my dad running afoul of the head of the Draft Board, I found myself aboard a bus heading to Fort Ord up near Monterey; grumbling about the unfairness all the way.
I’m sure those have been there know the course. You are hustled with 250 others into a receiving company where you are issued fatigues, boots, and the like. Then there’s the haircut or should I say head shavings. By now, my grumble had turned into a growl. I certainly did not want to be here.
Then comes the scary time. In the middle of the night you are rustled into the back of what we called Cattle Trucks for the ride to your basic training barracks; not a word being uttered. Arriving at the dimly lit buildings, the shouting starts. You are lined up into platoons with sergeants all over the place and in your face. Mine, and I’ll not ever/ever forget him, went by the name of Madaris; with an eye to chin scar on his right cheek which enhanced his meanness.
Next thing I knew is that he was in my face, voice at full decibels: “What are you smiling at soldier?” This was way/way too much for me to resist, so I answered back: “Don’t threaten me, sergeant. You know as well as I do that if you lay a hand on me, I’ll let the Chaplin know; and you’ll lose your stripes.” Dead silence amongst the entire company! He glared at me for a bit before moving on.
Next thing I knew was that I was on K.P. every day as well as every rotten detail there was. But (and, a big BUT), I was a HERO among the men as I refused to be bullied. Everyone would smile and wave as I pulled my duties. Of course, I never got the “good duties” such a loading the ammo trucks going to the rifle range which meant riding rather than double-timing to the firing range with full pack and rifle.
Then came the day the company commander, a college mate of mine, was off the base. Lo and Behold, I got selected to load the ammo trucks, so I doubled timed out of the formation to the out of sight ammo bunkers. Talk about being suckered. I arrived with seven sergeants standing shoulder to shoulder; Sergeant Madaris with six witnesses that he never laid a hand on me.
With my M-1 slung, I was ordered to the ground to start push-ups. Of course, it wasn’t wise to dawdle, but as I was into my third upward move, when a boot came smack down on my back, flattening me. Man, did it hurt.
Because of the football in me, I was instantly up and in a lunge position; M-1 ready to thrust. I guess I that’s when the wake-up call hit me as I suddenly found myself grabbed by my (what they called) blouse and in the sergeant’s face. “What do you find so funny, soldier?” I didn’t hesitate as my limp body replied: “I have learned my lesson, sergeant, I don’t think you’ll have another problem with me.”
I’m not sure what all happened after that, but I do know I became a model soldier; often complimented and actually thankful for the wake-up call. How did this help my teaching career? Well, the student certainly needs to understand who’s the boss; and, although there are many ways of accomplishing that, some people like me need to be woke up in such a manner. The trick is to discern “the who”.
Yep, come to think of it, whenever I stepped outside to have a little talk with “Johnny”, as you never wanted embarrass a student in front of a class, I learned to take a couple of witnesses outside as well, just as I learned from Sergeant Madaris. Oh, yes, and sometimes if I wasn’t getting through to “Johnny”, I would have a couple of trusted football players (bruisers) go out for a little sit-down talk which usually worked well. Now, before you accuse me of being mean and nasty, I rather looked upon it as doing whatever it took rather than giving up on a student; which I did maybe only twice in my teaching career.
However, I like to say, though, that I went into teaching with my fists, but went out of teaching , teaching with my heart….. and, that’s another story.
Finally, if there are any past students out there who wish to remind me of a story or anyone who wishes to shovel some criticism my way are welcome to write me at: LarryBme2@aol.com
Wishing you well,
Larry Bidwell