But I Gotta Go

BUT I GOTTA GO

I had just begun my second week of basic training. My instructor was not particularly pleased that one of the two chubby guys already had a stripe. Two years of ROTC destined me for early advancement throughout my 4 year tour of duty. This day was 'day one' of his warning of yesterday: "If you are going to be my squadron leader, you better fall out early....not last. Got it!? If you are last one out again, I will send you to the 'fat boy' squadron. You'll double time everywhere you go...you'll run your ass off....and eat sugared lettuce and vitamin tablets for 30 days...then you and I will start over. Got it!?

I had it alright. I had seen the 'fat boys' double timing everywhere they went and then they did extra duty and got less sleep. I met a guy later who had gone to the 'fat boy' squadron and lost 42 pounds in 30 days. He said it was the best thing that ever happened to him.

I was weak, not strong. I had to make sure I was never the last one to fall out in the morning. This morning, I had done it all. I was ready to go out that door, when suddenly I received a very clear bodily message....."YOU MUST PEE…NOW!" There was no holding it, for who knew how long it would be until I got a chance to pee. Just then, "FAAALLL OUT!" I had just unbuttoned my buttons - we didn't have zippers in fatigues back then - when I noticed that only 4 guys were left in the barracks. I re-buttoned my pants as I ran out of the latrine and out the front door. Buttoning the last of them, I called the squadron to attention. The four guys came out hurriedly and 'formed up'. I had made it. But I still had to pee. I had to keep my mind off of that the best I could. It was now 0603 in the morning.

Our instructor was a cross-trainee from the Marines. He had been a drill instructor, but realized that rank was too difficult to attain in the Marines. Still, he had a Marine attitude. All the basic training squadrons were to “pass and review” in a parade honoring the visiting President. Our instructor drove us hard. We practiced without so much as a water break until 1208, when he informed us that we would practice through the noon meal. He also announced that, if we practiced well, he would give us a base pass for that evening. The guys were pumped.

Me? I had to pee....bad; but absolutely refused to pee in my pants. Hell, I was the damn squadron leader! I’m a 20 year old man. How would that look? Now it is 1415 and I am calling cadence in the same rhythm as that of my throbbing bladder. Finally, I just could not do it. I ordered the formation to a halt, bent a bit and held my abdomen. It was 45* outside, but my eyes were actually sweating. The instructor came to me and asked, "What the Hell do you think you’re doing, Airman?" I explained briefly and saw his eyes soften a bit. He said, "Go lay down by the tree. If I catch you with it in your hand, I'll bust ya. If you pee in your pants, I'll bust ya. Got it!?"

I laid by the tree in abject agony….but I wasn’t marching, bouncing my sated bladder around. The tree was further from the barracks than the drill pad where they were still marching. At 1508, he finally announced, "Good damn job, men. Clean up and have a nice evening! Fall out!" As chubby as I was, I was the first person in that barracks. As I stood in front of the urinal with tears of relief streaming down my cheeks, he came up behind me, put his hand on my shoulder and whispered, "Respect has its price and rising to the occasion requires great fortitude. Good job, Squadron Leader. Good job."

So…he was a Marine at heart and with a heart. He knew and understood my ordeal. He ended up being a swell instructor.....except to Rupert Tvarski....but that's a different story.

Comments