Eleven Weeks

 

We learned to march,

we learned to shine our shoes,

we learned what to call officers in different branches

of the service, we learned to salute, we got our hair cut,

we went to the BX and bought cigarettes, we learned to clean

the barracks and the classrooms we learned in, we went on bivouac,

we qualified on the M1 carbine, we went to the movies on base liberty,

we listened to the jukebox in the chow hall, rock and roll music,

we policed the drill field, first thing in the morning, this fucked up

our shoeshines, we lined up by height, you little people in the rear

stop running, we got classified for a military occupation,

some of us went to tech school, and finished basic training

there, some of us stayed at Lackland the full 11 weeks,

most of us graduated, it was a relief.  We had esprit de corps.

Everything is relative.  The Army had it harder than

the Air Force.  The Marines had it harder than

the Navy.  The Coast Guard was in between.

We came in by airplane and left by bus.

We rode together.  We slept together.

We showered and shit and shaved together.

You could buy a book but there was no place

quiet to read it.  Outside the main gate were

whores and con artists who preyed on GIs.

You could get a tattoo.  You could pawn

your wristwatch.  Regular citizens, civilians,

looked down on us.  I did too.  My morale was

lower than whale shit on the bottom of the ocean.

I thought I was different.  I thought I was a person.

What was I—the Lone Ranger?  No, I was Tonto.

I bought a boat, I’m going out to sea.  Kimo Sabe.

This was a pipedream.  I was stuck.  For four years.

Four years as an enlisted man in the service.  No wonder

Cheney asked for a deferment.  He had other fish to dry.

No wonder Karl Rove was in favor of torture.  It stopped

the terrorists.  We got good intelligence from it.  Hard

decisions must be made by brave men.  President Bush,

you win.  Did your daddy buy you that?

What fraternity were you in at Yale?

I bet you were grand at the game.

And the sock hop afterwards.

I bet you had a time.  We learned the Uniform Code

of Military Justice (UCMJ).  The rules applied to us.

 


 

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