By Kenneth L. Hardin

I woke up on my first morning of basic military training thinking it was all a crazy dream. Our military caretaker allowed us to sleep past the normal 5 a.m. wake up time because we had cried ourselves to sleep well after 2 a.m. earlier that morning. As I stretched awake and looked around at the sparse surroundings, I thought to myself, “Well, this might not be too bad after all.” At that moment, the chaos started again.

Bursting in with high energy through the double doors on both sides of the room filled with about 40 beds lined side by side were several of the angry and energetic men from the earlier wee hours. And, they were counting again. They began stomping up and down the highly polished floors, maneuvering like snakes slithering in and out between the rows of beds shouting instructions at us to get up. We were given five minutes to wash our faces, brush our teeth and put on civilian clothes for what would be my last time wearing for nearly five months. The last time I had worn my shoes on the wrong feet was at two years old, but that morning as the countdown reached closer to double zeroes, I couldn’t be sure if I had regressed. I just wanted to avoid whatever the outcome would be if I failed to meet their time constraints.

We were hurried down a stairwell and out into the searing morning Texas heat. Since we hadn’t been taught how to march, we were a rag-tag group of 40 young men walking. I had no clue where we were going. Miles later, we ended up in front of a barbershop where we were herded in like cattle. I saw full heads go in and bald ones come out. As I stood in line, I was witness to an incident that still shocks me today. For what our caretaker lacked in height, he made up for in bravado. He was only 5’6” but stood taller in presence. He walked up to a much larger recruit standing beside me and positioned himself squarely in his face, or as close as he could get to it. He said in a strong and unwavering voice, “Son, you look like you want to hit me? I dare you to swing at me.” The big oafish dude reared back and swung right through this little man’s jaw, knocking him out cold. I stood motionless as did several other of my new brothers. I didn’t know how to respond. Several minutes passed and it was like a pack of similarly dressed wild hyenas descended upon us from everywhere. Men in military fatigues and wearing the stiff, round brim hats took over the scene and surrounded this young man, who had taken our drill instructor up on his request.

As calm returned, we walked over to get our new green clothing and headed to the chow hall for breakfast. I’m not sure what their fascination was with counting, but there was more of it with continual yelling. As soon as you sat down to enjoy a leisurely meal, someone was in your face screaming in your ear that you only had a limited amount of time to eat.  Forty years later, I can still hear the familiar refrain, “Eat it now and taste it once you get outside!” For about a decade after my honorable discharge, I still employed this rapid food consumption method. When we finally returned back to our barracks and were instructed to report to the dayroom, our DI walked in with a notable bruised and swollen eye and a bandage cover. What pride he may have sacrificed in the assault, he tried to quickly recover. He stood before the 40-man seated contingent and extended another challenge, “Anybody else here wanna try me? Come on, anyone else wanna take a swing?”

Some recruits looked at the ceiling, some looked at the floor and others just looked straight ahead without uttering a word. Later, we all laughed and quietly joked that this little man better sit down before he got a matching set. Since the new recruit hadn’t been given his legal Uniformed Code of Military Justice briefing, there was no action they could take against him. Instead, they kept him in for the entire time we were in training, humiliated him at every opportunity they had in front of us and then dishonorably discharged him after we graduated.

What my second day taught me was that the military will purposely strip you of your comfort, dignity and civilian ways while simultaneously building you up into a unified and disciplined group of loyal brothers and sisters. The intense and incessant yelling, screaming and counting was used to weed out those mentally weak. I looked forward to what was coming next.

Kenneth L. (Kenny) Hardin  is a member of the National Association of Black Journalists and operates the Veterans Social Center.