Pledge May 1, 2010
Posted by midswatch in Home, Writing.Tags: Plebe Summer, Pledge, Superman
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Seventy-two days down. Twenty-eight to go. Memory 73/100:
You might recall my creativity regarding hygiene, where I used FaBreeze as a substitute for showering. My creative thinking extended to cleaning during Plebe Summer.
While preparing for an inspection, I noticed two things: the room stunk, and the floor was dirty. A simple sweep wouldn’t suffice. Luckily, I had a great solution. I sprayed Pledge (the stuff used when dusting,) all over the floor then wiped it with a dirty shirt. Fantastic! The room smelled like summer in a pine forest, and the dirt was gone (well, it was now all over my t-shirt, but whatever.)
The grand solution carried me through the rest of the day. I went to be a hero, slept like Superman, and the world applauded my courage.
The next morning, as every morning went during Plebe Summer, the detailers woke us using blow horns, whitles, yelling, pounding on walls, and beating metal rods together. We all gathered out in the main hallway as quickly as possible, and as usual we carried all of our linens we had just slept with, inside our pillowcases. They counted us, told us how slow we were, then gave us the impossible task of going back to our rooms, making our beds, shaving, and going to the bathroom, in seven minutes.
“Ready?” The always asked.
“READY READY!” We always responded.
“Go.”
I made a mad dash around the corner to my hallway. I turned sharply to make it into my room at full speed. I put my foot forward to slow down, but it didn’t work! Next thing I knew, I was on my back sliding across the room. The desk stopped my skid quite rudely (painfully.) That’s when I learned about the power of Pledge.
Pledge worked well as a prank during Army week.
The Days April 28, 2010
Posted by midswatch in Home, Navy, Special Events, Writing.Tags: Beat Army, Christmas, Graduation, Herndon, Plebe Summer, Ring Dance, spring break, The Days
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Sixty-nine days down. Thirty-one to go. Memory 70/100:
I think I’ve mentioned it on here somewhere that one of the plebes’ daily rates is The Days. How long until graduation? Sir, you now have thirty-one days until 1/C graduation! During Plebe Summer, it was a daunting task—how long until Plebe Parents Weekend? First Class Parents Weekend? Thanksgiving? Until we BEAT ARMY! in football? Christmas? Spring Break? 2/C Ring Dance? Herndon? Graduation?
The Days serve two main purposes, in my view: 1) Make the plebes memorize some more stuff, and 2) Give them something to look forward to.
The 1/C and 4/C have a traditional controversy about Herndon (the time where the plebes graduate from 4/C to 3/C—“Plebes No More!”) every time the plebes give the days until Herndon, the 1/C say “No, you’re wrong. Herndon is infinity plus 2010 days away!” I enjoyed telling the plebes during their Plebe Summer that Herndon was a myth. The plebes insist on the actual day count, despite the 1/C teasing.
The plebes keep The Days count on the company chalkboard. They write how many days until Herndon, and I erase it and write “Infinity plus 2010.” I was pleased to see today that they had erased my writing, replaced it with the correct number, and replaced the number of days until graduation with “Infinity plus 2013. Graduation’s a myth.”
Break a Leg! April 9, 2010
Posted by midswatch in Writing.Tags: Broken Leg, Plebe Summer, Wheel Chair
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Fifty-one days down. Forty-nine to go. Memory 52/100:
Another Plebe Summer memory. I remember when a kid from 9th Company fell from the top of the rope climb at the obstacle course. He broke his leg and went to the hospital. I thought he was the luckiest kid ever. I decided that I, too, would break my leg—not in the same way because I didn’t want to be accused of copying, but somehow so that I could get out of Plebe Summer. I’d probably get to go home, I thought. Perhaps, I wouldn’t even come back.
I saw the kid the next morning, squaring his corners, sounding off, and memorizing his rates. Only, he was in a wheelchair. That didn’t look fun at all. He didn’t go home or anything.
I decided at that moment that I wouldn’t break my leg.
Letters March 16, 2010
Posted by midswatch in Navy, Writing.Tags: Letters, Navy, Plebe Summer
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Twenty-seven days down. Seventy-three to go. Memory 28/100:
I decided to stay home for Spring Break this year. Many of my friends left for cruises to warm places, but I wanted to relax by myself. Also, I haven’t finished IFS yet, so hopefully I’ll have my solo flight this week! One of my goals for the break was to clean my room. It was filled with high school things (including a “Congratulations!” bag from graduation day) and Naval Academy stuff I took home for the summers but didn’t need at school.
Inside a clear, shoe box-sized container, I found my letters from Plebe Summer. I didn’t have much time to write during Plebe Summer, but I received many letters. The box is completely full. I remember feeling guilty for not writing back to all of the people. All sorts of friends wrote to me, some I wouldn’t have expected to write. I loved getting letters from family, too. My mom put all sorts of fun things in the letters. I especially liked photographs and comics.
The detailers handed out letters every night. I generally had a letter each time. The letters were a big highlight—even better than letters were care packages, filled with cookies, Pop Tarts, candy, and other sweets; but there was a problem. I received the letters just before bedtime, after our thirty minutes of personal time. As soon as the detailers dismissed us, we had to get in bed—lights out.
I didn’t do many things to rebel during Plebe Summer, but my love of letters pushed me beyond the line of blind obedience. Each night, as I jumped into bed, I threw a package of Pop Tarts and my letters inside my pillowcase. Once the detailers had stopped patrolling the rooms, I brought the goods out one by one. I carefully opened the letters as silently as possible (the Pop Tart wrappers were difficult.) Even though we didn’t have our lights on, I used the light from the hallway to read each letter carefully (we weren’t allowed to have our doors shut unless we were changing, even while sleeping.) Any time I heard footsteps, I quickly rolled on top of everything. I crushed a few Pop Tarts over the six weeks.
I read each letter twice before putting it away. I then reread my letters for the week on Sundays. They were my connection outside of Plebe Summer. I remember feeling like I had jumped in a time machine; my friends wrote about their summer vacations, city-league sports, and barbecues. All of their lives continued normally, but mine had changed drastically. Most of them didn’t leave for college until I had finished Plebe Summer. It was the beginning of the separation between my past and my future.