(New Chief Engineer continued from Page 1)
18,000 recruits were involved in some comfiture of the training command. About half were in Camp Nimitz, the primary camp where life in the world ended and navy life began.
Nimitz meant four intense weeks of recruit molding, meshing, melding, hammering, drilling, and manufacturing into an acceptable form of Blue Jacket. Discipline was the order of the day. From Nimitz he was marched to secondary training where for another ten weeks the rough product was honed, shaped, and tooled to a final product, able and more than willing to pass in review without embarrassment to the government.
These ceremonies took place during faithful Friday afternoons on Preble Field with grand parades signifying that all military requirements and practical factors were met and the graduating recruits were fleet ready. A photographic head count on such a Friday in 1967 shows not less than 2400 Blue Jackets assembled for passing in review. Admirals and captains were present with other high officials. Bands played and there were many flags. Freedom birds, passenger planes landing and taking off from the new San Diego International Airport, roared overhead with strong purpose and promise. Over all the decorum and excitement, graduating recruits silently radiated the highest motivating force of all---the exit from boot camp. It was the end of a line, an interminable long line, expressed in time, a line whose end was so important nothing else mattered. No thought at all was given to the next three years and eight months as being particularly important. The zeal of that Friday parade was illuminated by the intensity of wanting to get out of that place. Freedom birds made a lovely sight.
After a week in “forming,” waiting for new companies to assemble, twelve long weeks of training began in the back yard of Recruit Training Command, Camp Nimitz. It was on the south side, separated from the main portion of the Training Center by a canal with a guarded bridge, sort of out of sight, and where was billeted the lowest order of the Naval caste system. It was an isolation site, a nadir, the dead end of the rear, quarters for the nothings. The new inhabitants of Nimitz were classified as a species lower than the product of a whale privy. There sad sack blue caps-- closely resembling those worn by inmates of the federal penal system, were held up by protruding ears, covering new bald heads as the stage curtain of boot camp lifted and act one began. Be it “digging in” with the left heel of the new “boon docker” work shoe, washing clothes in galvanized buckets with hard soap and stiff brush, marching drill, getting through the chow line without being pegged by any of the eagle eyes of adjutants or company commanders, or any other of the countless new rituals thrust upon them. In four rigorous weeks they learned—and quickly.
There was a lot of yelling. It seemed each person had a personal hawker
who would swoop from nowhere like a screeching phantom when any little
detail was not followed to standard. Anything, including moving the eyes
the wrong way or even a minor twitch---co-noted as the action of a worm,
brought them down. These martial zealots were
everywhere—scrutinizing, correcting, pouncing, ever aggressive and on
the attack. It was, “Move! Move! Move! You people move entirely too
slow!” Even the workers of the galley yelled as trays and utensils were
returned for cleaning. They, as it turned out, were also recruits
serving their term in service week. They were the ten week veterans and
who now gleefully dished out what they had been dished.
The reaction was exhibited in what may be loosely observed as a panicked scurry of movement to which the common name of the recruit was noted: “Squirrel.”
Leading Company 67-052 was a Machinist Mate Chief who vowed he was going to brigade the company if it meant death for all hands in doing so. He had been trained to scare hell out of mankind and succeeded admirably well. It was no joke when he informed the “squirrels” under his command that he was God and that he would make, break, and eat recruits. He was dedicated and determined. His word was law, his vocabulary was naval, and his actions were convincing. More power to the fact that he was never satisfied with anything and remained in a constant state of agitation in what would be loosely interpreted as being mad at the world. A Taurus, blowing fire and steam from eyes, nostrils, ears, and nose, Mr. Hartsock—Company Commander and SIR--- commenced the process of turning this cowering crowd of raw recruits, “pukes” according to him, into something the Navy would have. This would involve a lot of marching, drilling, inspections, each day, forever. It began each cold morning at 0500 with a march to breakfast, then a march back to barracks, then a march to the assembly area by the mess hall. There the most stressful, often terrifying, event of the day took place—personnel inspection and drill.
The assembly area for Camp Nimitz was called the grinder. It was the muster field where each morning and each morning thereafter; as things turned out, whether on land or at sea, there was morning muster. Muster: It might be on station or to quarters for muster, but there would be muster, rain or shine, thick or thin. Who can forget the IMC: “Now, all hands to quarters for muster!” Every now and then there might be a “muster on station,” but there was always muster. In boot camp each morning, thousands of new recruits were summoned to quarters for muster on the grinder of Camp Nimitz. Later, in secondary training, it was Brainbridge Court, but it began in Nimitz. There they would be inspected, interrogated on eleven general orders in recitation form, words of the day, naval vocabulary, chain of command, and national leaders. Then the brigade would engage in a massive tribal gyration known as physical drill with arms. This involved a series of contorted exercises utilizing a World War I vintage Springfield rifle---“ Piece, damn it! Never a rifle!” we were told. In step with music, the minions performed in unison an exercise with the piece with down and forwards, forwards and up, up and shoulders, side pushes, diagonal lunges, forward lunges, front sweeps, overhead twists, and finally ending with side twists. After this warm up, the sixteen-count manual of arms followed.
The whole thing was then caped off with a massive pass in review as martial music was blared over a scratchy loudspeaker system, reminiscent of a Chinese pep rally. Then, with the sailor candidates clopping down the left heel for cadence tempered by nervous force, the appearance resembled a German goose step. From the air the spectacle would have appeared as a checkerboard rug with the various dark squares fraying about, coming together, and then moving in unison up, down, sideways, and backward around the black pavement in a silent but precise movement. On the ground the formations were viewed by the command chain, perched as they were on a raised wooden deck looking down as the review passed before them, watching intently to judge the progress of the metamorphosing process.
(New Chief Engineer continued on Page 6)
