Boot Camp -- Making the Call

Everyone in boot camp was assigned a job. The two best jobs -- working in the commissary building and working in the nurses station -- were indoors and had certain perks such as coffee and interaction with people other than drill instructors. I worked in the nurses' station which also gave me access to a phone. I had planned on using it to contact my family and was prepared for any punishment they would give me, although I never entertained the thought of being discovered.

I only worked about 5 hours a day total. A few of these hours came before lunch and the rest followed dinner for med-call. There was only one nurse on duty in the evenings and that would provide me with the best opportunity to call my parents and figure out what the hell I was going to do when I was released.

The night I chose to make my call I remember clearly. Brown Recluse spiders were rampant in our barracks and the surrounding countryside. Many recruits had been bitten, but that evening we were treating a patient who had been bitten on the ass. He didn't tell anyone about it until the bite had ruptured, exposing the decayed tissue beneath that the poison had been feeding on. I can recall nurses sticking one-sided Q-tips about four inches into the flesh of his cheek to remove the gangrenous bi-product of the bite. For three weeks we had to pack that wound with iodine and sugar.

With this grape-colored salve still drying on my fingertips, I made my way towards the rear of the clinic to make my call. I dialed quickly and the phone rang...one ring, two rings, three rings, and then four. No answer. I hung up. Dad was passed out on the couch and mom was immersed in a crossword puzzle avoiding the telemarketers. I knew the routine.

I then distanced myself from the crime scene and began sweeping the floor of the clinic. I had tried. I could always try again. It had been an easy enough attempt. Finishing up my duties I headed back to my barracks for the evening. A shower, maybe some mail to read, and some sleep would put my mind at ease.

Revelry rang distortedly through the wall mounted speakers the next morning at 4:30 sharp. Didn't they ever just feel like letting us sleep in a bit and having an extra cup of coffee before verbally raping one of our mothers, sisters, or girlfriends for breakfast? The sun wasn't even fucking up yet and half of the guys were trying to figure out creative ways to hide their morning wood with just boxers and a t-shirt on while standing at attention. No easy task! Every waking moment was its own unique experience.

We made our bunks and then headed to morning chow. This was followed with a few morning P.T. activities and then I was to report to the nurses station. When I arrived, paranoia already setting in, I was immediately pulled aside by one of the nurses. She informed me that my father had called the nurses office that morning asking for me by name. Some shit was about to go down. Blasted caller-I.D.! I couldn't believe he had called back.

I was written up for using the phone and about a week later went before a three person panel to discuss my actions and their consequences. Despite an applause-worthy effort at displaying my child-like distraught over mom's transfer, the panel was hardly impressed, and chose to regress me a month in the program. The decision would be announced to the camp at evening colors, where I would be reprimanded by the highest ranking staff member present and relegated to my new platoon. Despite this setback, mom and dad were still foremost in my thoughts. (Click here to subscribe to my feed!)