Basic Training – A First Impression

John Spain, a hulking six-foot-three, 250 pound Texan, stopped in his tracks, lifted his entrenching tool high in the air, and smashed it down repeatedly into the muddy grass. The young men, who were lined up single file behind him, braked accordion style, then stood frozen with a mix of fear and curiosity.

It was my first day as a “soldier” at Fort Polk, Louisiana, in 1968. Prior to that, I hadn’t traveled further south than New Jersey. Before an actual basic training cycle began, the Army needed to keep us trainees busy in between giving air-gun injections (for a half-dozen tropical diseases I’d never heard of), handing out ill-fitting uniforms and piling into our backpacks assorted camping gear that seemed to weigh more than we did. Much of the time was taken up with standing in line waiting for said shots and gear. We would learn to call activities like these: “Hurry up and wait.”

That first day’s “busy work” for some 20 of us consisted of digging trenches to help drain a swampy picnic area. Immediately following John Spain’s beating the crap out of what we soon learned was a snake, our drill instructor gathered us new recruits around a nearby picnic table. Holding up the deceased reptile, he announced in full Louisiana drawl:

“This here’s a coral snake. It’s one of several highly poisonous snakes around these parts. If you get bit by one, take these three steps: One, bend over. Two, spread your legs. And three, kiss your ass goodbye. ‘Cause there is no cure for a poisonous bite from one of these bad boys.”

Having avoided the perils of Vietnam by seeking refuge in a local Army Reserve unit, I was determined to stay alert for these dangerous reptiles for the next six months, so I could return home alive.

M. Sacher
3/8/17