Dave Konig on New York Guard Training on National Review Online

Send to a Friend
<% dim printurl printurl = Request.ServerVariables("URL")%> Version

September 18, 2002, 9:00 a.m.
The Longest Week
Part Four.

By Dave Konig

PROLOGUE: NICE AND EASY
Earlier this year I enlisted in the New York Guard, the all-volunteer state defense force that augments and assists the Army National Guard. As a new recruit with no prior military experience, I was required to go through a one-week course in "Basic Enlisted Training" to be held in the summer at a local Army camp. The idea is to, in seven days, give civilians an orientation in basic military discipline and teach them rudimentary soldiering skills. Before signing up I asked the recruiter about the week's training — was it tough? After all, at 40 I'm no kid. The guy laughed. "Nah, we take it easy on you. You'll love it. Nice and easy."

DAY FOUR: SYSTEMATIC, AUTOMATIC
For the past four days two angry bald men — and one angry woman — have told me when to stand, sit, eat, sleep, speak, move, and go to the bathroom. They control my every move; there's not a second of free time, not a moment to myself. It would probably be unbearable if there weren't a bunch of other guys and gals going through the exact same thing.

Like everyone else, I'm setting land-speed records in shaving and showering. The idea is to get it done as quickly as possible so you can get into uniform as quickly as possible so you can get into formation as quickly as possible in case there's a surprise Four-Minute Formation (and there's always a surprise Four-Minute Formation and it's now a surprise Three-Minute-and-Forty-Eight-Seconds Formation). I step out of the showers and sneak a peek out the latrine window. "I don't see him out there — maybe we're in the clear." Joey the Mailman is toweling off, taking his time. "Ah the hell with it," he grins. "If he calls us out there I'll just have to go out buck naked. What's he gonna do, make us do push-ups? He's gonna make us do push ups no matter what — so I'll do 'em naked!"

It's so damn hot. We're marching uphill into the northern reaches of the camp; The Snake is hissing; "Systematic — automatic! Systematic — automatic!" I'm not sure what he means by that, but naturally, I agree with him completely. The sounds of artillery fire rings through the hills. We march up a long flight of rickety wooden steps on the side of a sheer cliff. "These stairs weren't built to hold this much weight;" Wolfman rasps helpfully.

We're in a clearing on top of a hill, The Big Guy orders Dr. Scholl to conduct a Land Navigation class. I take the opportunity to jot a few notes down in my journal. David from upstate takes the opportunity to bust my chops; "Dear Diary," he mimics me in a high-pitched, sing-song voice. "We marched a lot today. It sure was hot!" Wise guy.

As Dr. Scholl explains the rudimentary basics of Land Nav, it becomes clear who knows their stuff and who doesn't. I know I'm strictly in the latter category. Lockerman, he of the sharp angles like a stiletto, and Mr. Rogers, he of the bad feet, are in the former; they're tossing around "azimuths" and "map coordinates" left and right. I make a mental note to stick by Mr. Rogers when we do a field exercise.

DAY FIVE: HARDCORE.
As the week goes on, I'm finding out two important things about myself. One; I can take more physical punishment, when I have to, then I thought I could, and two: I've developed a uniquely effective survival skill; I have the uncanny luck of always being behind the right guy at the right time. Sure enough, I did end up on Mr. Rogers's team during the land-nav exercise. During drill and ceremony exercises I more often than not find myself behind our best marcher, young William from Harlem, during PT I'm jogging with young Cesar who keeps everyone around him going with motivational cadence. Back in the barracks, I get a lesson in boot shining from Lockerman himself.

There's more of that happening; we're helping each other get through it. Everyone is helping Nervous learn his phonetic alphabet and memorize the ranks. You don't want the guy next to you falling behind, whether it's out of a brotherly spirit of comradery and altruism or, more to the point, because if he screws up you all end up getting yelled at and doing push ups. And, quite frankly, the novelty of being yelled at and doing push-ups is really starting to wear off. So, you help each other out. Because by now the rigors of the week has streamlined our thinking to concern for only the most elemental needs; food, sleep, and what do we have to do to keep these guys from yelling at us?

"ARE YOU MOTIVATED?" The Big Guy asks. "MOTIVATED! MOTIVATED! MOTIVATED!" we answer. "ARE YOU HARDCORE?" The Big Guy asks. "HARDCORE!" we answer. "DO YOUR FEET HURT?" he asks. "NO, STAFF SERGEANT!" we answer.

Very true, reasonably true and completely false, in that order.

TO BE CONTINUED
Editor's note: Part I of Dave Konig's New York Guard training can be found here. Part II here. Part III here. Part V of his series on his summer training will appear on Friday.

— Comedian Dave Konig starred on Broadway in Grease! and won a New York Emmy as the co-host of Subway Q&A. He just completed his first novel Good Luck Mr. Gorsky. Konig is an NRO contributor.

 

     


 

 
http://www.nationalreview.com/comment/comment-konig091802.asp