Welcome to the Army

It is the beginning of a long day of traveling and waiting, waiting and traveling. The morning- THE MORNING- starts at 4:30 AM with an aching back and a hot shower, followed by a scavenged breakfast bar and a brief ride with a maniacal shuttle bus driver. It is of course dark- the Military Entrance Processing Station (MEPS) is shadowy, lit occasionally by spotlights. A slight, warm breeze stirs the air, and as the bags are stacked outside the door and the soon-to-be privates file into the building, you realize the day has arrived.

It is a day of firsts for you and your new friends- the first time to ride in an airplane for some, or a taxi cab for others. If you were appointed Group Leader, perhaps it is the first time you have been placed completely in charge of the welfare of others. For nearly everyone, however, it will be the first day in the United States Army. As the recruits converge on the airport and fill the bus for the two hour ride "home", you may reflect on what possibly awaits you. The tension mounts as the bus rolls onto base, turning expertly onto this road and that until stopping before a large, brick building. The silence is thick when suddenly a dark sillouhette appears walking through a large, glass doorway. The hat says it all- you've watched enough 'Gomer Pile' to know that. A unison expletive is uttered by all on the bus- a heartfelt "oh no!"- as the figure draws closer.

When the drill sergeant boards the bus, you are surprised to find that he is civil, almost cordial. He welcomes you to base and instructs you to get your bag from under the bus and go single-file into the building. Once off the bus, you and the others scramble to carry out his instructions: hissed echos of "move quick!" are whispered as you search for your bag. Inside, you are seated on the benches and are welcomed and offered food. As you eat, line and platoon numbers are assigned by processing NCOs (Non-commissioned officers). Briefly thereafter, an amnesty offer is made to surrender any contraband items such as tobacco or knives.

It is after eleven o' clock when the drill sergeant leads your entourage down the long, spacious hallway, past mannequin models clad in uniforms past and present (including a very bad rendering of George Washington in Revolutionary attire). Once outside, you follow him down a short troop trail through the forest, passing under an occasional streetlamp. The silence is almost profound as you look around at your counterparts under the dim, orange sodium light. The loudest sound is that of the insects as they revel in the lamps, circling and spinning just overhead.

When you finally reach the barracks, you are assigned a bunk and wall locker. You have no difficulty sleeping tonight: the long, exhausting day of processing and travel has seen to that. More importantly, you have reached your home for the next 9 weeks. Welcome to Fort Lost In the Woods, Mo.