They called us Probates. Technically, what were we was probationers who had broken the law in some form or fashion. Besides that, about the only other thing that we had in common is that we were all given a choice — it was either go to boot camp for thirteen weeks or go to prison. It was that simple, and just like the other 41 guys in my platoon did, I rationalized that doing push-ups sounded so much better versus getting shipped off to the penitentiary. But as we all found out the hard way, it wasn’t going to be as easy as we thought that it would be…
Never mind the marching, standing in formation, or at attention, exercising, and the like. That sort of stuff came to be expected; it was, after all, boot camp and what we had signed up for when we decided to participate in the S.I.T.C. (Southampton Intensive Training Center) program.
However, what none of us had anticipated was the added rules, like the one where we weren’t allowed to talk to one another. Or the one where we were forbidden to put our hands on another probate. Breaking the first rule would get you “thrashed” or put “on your face,” meaning push-ups or some other crazy exercise such as “mountain-climbers.” Whether it was that, sit-ups, or jumping jacks, they ALL came with a four-point cadence that had to be chanted out loud — “One, two, three, Sir, one Sir. One, two, three, Sir, two Sir . . . until the drill instructor (D.I.) determined that you had done enough. Even then there were only so many times that you got thrashed before you ended up with some sort of disciplinary infraction, and it was only so many of those that you could stand.
Like I said, it wasn’t as easy as any of us thought that it would be.
Breaking the latter rule was automatic grounds for dismissal from the program, which would cause you to get sent immediately to the “smokestack” (Southampton Prison) across the street.
Go figure, it took me less than two weeks to get caught breaking the rules.
It happened right after I had gotten thrashed pretty good by Corporal Riker for, of all things, not being in step with the rest of the platoon while we were marching on the parade deck. As you can only imagine, I was still in my feelings afterwards and made the mistake of not only sharing those feelings with another probate, but also I went through the motion of showing the other probate exactly what I wanted to do to Corporal Riker — all of which he not only witnessed, but also overheard me talking about how badly I wanted to choke the crap out of him.
I just knew that I was going to the smokestack, but one of the things that saved me was the fact that I never touched the other probate. All I had merely done was make a gesture and that’s all; a particular gesture which stayed with me during my entire time at boot camp. As far as the other thing that saved me, I wouldn’t find out about that until later on.
For my indiscretion, I was given a log and was told that I had to carry it on my shoulders EVERYWHERE that I went, whether it be going to chow, to the parade deck, to school, work, and the like. Needless to say, lugging that thing around totally sucked! Not to mention, it wasn’t light either.
On top of that, I was also given extra duty. As far as I was concerned though, they had more or less thrown me a bone by giving me extra duty. Even though I wasn’t able to get into the rack for about an hour after the other probates did (that is, depending on who the D.I. was), there was one perk with having extra duty. Typically, they only gave the other probates one full minute to get showered, and you best believe that the D.I. on duty stood there and timed you. The only time that they didn’t stand there and time someone was when they had finished extra duty. Instead, the D.I. would retreat to the office and do paperwork, therefore one could take their time and enjoy their shower, within reason that is.
A couple of weeks after the fabled incident with Corporal Riker, I got caught up in something else that also followed me during my entire time at boot camp. It happened one day when we were sitting on the bus and taking a lunch break after sling blading grass all morning long. There I was, sitting in the back of the bus and minding my own business when out of the blue Probate Sawyer, who was sitting towards the middle of the bus, turned around and winked at me. Being that this guy clowned around like I did, I really didn’t think much about it at first.
“Sir, Probate Sawyer requests permission to speak, Sir!” he said loudly towards to the front of the bus where Corporal Stith was engrossed with looking in the mirror and rubbing his chin.
This ought to be interesting, I mused as I took in a deep slug of Kool-Aid from my canteen. When it came to Sawyer there was no telling with this guy. “Whatever it is that you want, it better be good, or you are going to do mountain climbers until your legs fall off,” Corporal Stith told him.
“Sir, yes Sir! It is! It is a matter of life and death…”
From the sound of Sawyer’s voice, it was obvious that he was asking for those mountain climbers, which judging by the look on Corporal Stith’s face he was going to get them any second now.
“… Sir, Probate Sawyer feels threatened after Probate Bomber flashed ‘The Claw’ at him, Sir.”
At the sound of that I simply couldn’t hold the Kool-Aid down. Pretty much everyone in the two seats in front of me got sprayed. All I could do afterwards was just give them a look that said my bad. For the time being, I had to settle the score. Two could play this game.
“Sir, Probate Bomber requests permission to speak, Sir!’
Up to this point Corporal Stith hadn’t missed a beat with rubbing his chin while still looking intently in the mirror towards the back of the bus.
“Probate Bomber, are you threatening people with ‘The Claw’ again?” he asked.
“Sir, no Sir! Probate Sawyer turned around, winked at Probate Bomber and then began slowly licking his lips. Probate Bomber isn’t quite sure what he meant by that, but whatever it is Probate Bomber doesn’t want no parts of it, so he showed him ‘The Claw’ in hopes that Probate Sawyer would stay away from him, Sir.”
For the first time Corporal Stith actually cracked a wide smile. “Oh, I get it. You two want to be buddies. Well, guess what? Today is your lucky day. It just so happens that I do have a buddy system. The way that it works is whenever one of you gets thrashed, so does the other. As a matter of fact, you see that ditch over there? Looks like a good place for you two to do mountain climbers until your legs fall off, so get to it,” he said.
A minute later as he and I were busy doing Corporal Stith’s beloved mountain climbers, I couldn’t help but ask Sawyer what his problem was. “Nothing really. I just was tired of sling blading grass and this seemed like a better idea,” he replied nonchalantly.
As far as Stith went, he really wasn’t too bad of a D.I. compared to the female D.I. that I had to contend with. When it came to her, I swear that this lady really had it out for me. Then again when she was around things did seem to go haywire.
“Probate Bomber, get in step!” she screamed at me one day as we were all learning how to march.
No problemo. “Sir, yes Sir!” I quickly shot back.
At the sound of that she practically sprinted across the parade deck. The next thing I know she pretty much began marching right along beside me while screaming at me some more as I continued marching.
I dunno, maybe it was just me and my imagination, but unless I was mistaken this lady was actually keeping in step with me during her tirade. Funny how this was the exact thing that she was griping about a second ago.
Like I said, for some odd reason this chick had it out for me.
“Do I look like a sir to you, Probate Bomber?” she barked.
It wasn’t like I was calling her that on purpose. This was, after all, the expression that they had drilled into us day in and day out when we first got there and by now I simply was accustomed to saying it, that’s all.
Sir, no Sir!” I hollered trying to maintain the thousand-yard stare that they had taught us while I concentrated on marching. Of course, I realized that I had done it again no sooner than the words came out of my mouth, but by then it was too late. One thing about it and two things for sure, I knew right then and there that I was going to get thrashed really good by her.
“Platoon, halt!” she screamed as loud as she could. Seconds later she closed the gap between her and me and got within inches of me. By the look on her face, she clearly was not a happy woman. “Probate Bomber, you and I are going to get one thing straight today! I am a ma’am and not a sir! Since you can’t seem to distinguish from the two, it looks like I am going to have to teach you the hard way. Now fall out and get on your face!” From that day forward every time that she was on duty I got thrashed by her for some reason or another.
By week five, I had watched as the 2nd platoon had graduated. In turn that ushered in the 5th platoon. Now all eyes were on the 3rd platoon whose probates were next in line to graduate. Just think, it would only be four more weeks before all eyes would be on us in the 4th platoon.
In the meantime, I was still stuck doing extra duty at night, and of course that had me daydreaming about the day when I would be able to graduate myself. That is if I could stay out of trouble long enough to avoid getting sent to the smokestack.
Keep your eye on the prize Probate Bomber, I thought to myself as I swept the parade deck.
Moments later, I couldn’t help but notice Corporal Riker walking towards me. Oh boy here we go…
“Probate Bomber, I am going to relieve you of duty early tonight. Hit the shower and then hit the rack,” he said nonchalantly.
In that moment I didn’t know why this guy was throwing me a bone, but I wasn’t about to question him about it either. It did however happen to cross my mind that perhaps this guy wasn’t so bad after all. And to think that a few weeks ago this guy had managed to get me totally out of my square. Now look at us.
“Sir, yes Sir!” I hurried up and replied before making my way to the barracks.
Moments later, as I was taking my time and enjoying the comfort of the shower, out of the blue there suddenly was a shrilling sound that pierced the air. Durn you Corporal Riker!
Whenever a new platoon arrived there was a ritual that always occurred. During their first week the D.I.s on duty would conduct a fire drill, which by design all the new platoons inevitably failed. And in some cases, some of the other platoons repeatedly failed that same exercise, just like the 3rd platoon did.
In theory, they expected everyone to be out of the building within 15 seconds from the time the fire alarm sounded, never mind the fact that this drill occurred when everyone was sound asleep. If by chance you didn’t make it out within that timeframe you were then considered to be burned up in “the fire.”
Go figure, we failed our first fire drill miserably. Then again some of the guys in my platoon did take their jolly ole time getting dressed, while others stopped to use the restroom. Put it to you this way, a couple of minutes after the fire alarm was pulled guys were still coming out of the building. Needless to say, they thrashed the crap out of us, just like they did with the 3rd platoon.
As you can only imagine, the moment that I heard the sound of the fire alarm the second time I pretty much panicked. Being that I was still in the shower I knew that I was stuck between a rock and a hard place. Besides, I was positive that I was skating on thin ice, so there really wasn’t any room for any more error whatsoever.
So, I did what I thought was best in this situation. I turned the shower off, grabbed a towel, wrapped it around me, and took off out of the barracks.
Moments later, I was standing in formation in the back of the platoon, dripping wet and trying my best to stand perfectly still, which was seemingly difficult to do. As my luck would have it, it just so happens that this particular night was unseasonably cold and breezy, hence I was shivering. On the bright side, somehow or another my entire platoon managed to make it out without getting “burned up,” so to speak.
It’s too bad that I couldn’t say the same thing for the 3rd platoon, who once again had managed to fail their third fire drill in a row. About the only thing that I could think there was, have fun getting thrashed.
As far as the 5th platoon went, they were going to have a field day with them boys. Then again, you had to give them credit. After all they didn’t take their jolly ole time getting dressed or waste time using the restroom like we had done. Instead, they showed up to the party late and brought their blankets that they bundled up with as they lined up in formation.
With that in mind, there for a second I had kind of forgotten all about how cold and wet that I was. That is until my thoughts were interrupted by Corporal Riker.
“Probate Bomber, report to the front of the platoon now!” he ordered with a slight smirk.
For the second time that evening I thought, durn you Corporal Riker! Never in my life had I ever felt so embarrassed and on the spot. In that moment I thought this is it, this guy is getting ready to belittle the heck out of me like he did before. Surely, I am going to the smokestack because ain’t no way in the world I am doing any push-ups, sit-ups, or mountain climbers with nothing but a towel on.
Despite my apprehension, I proceeded to follow his orders as instructed.
“Probate Bomber reporting as ordered, Sir!” I managed to squeak out somehow as I looked at him.
“Probate Bomber, about face!” he ordered.
Yup, this is surely it, I thought for a split second. Then just as quickly another thought popped into my mind. Remember Probate Bomber, keep your eye on the prize.
So, I did as I was ordered to do and turned around and faced my platoon even though I was unsure what to expect. About the only thing that I could be certain of was that everyone’s eyes would be fixed on me, and they were. Of course, there were a few snickers, all of which came from the 5th platoon, but then again you’d expect that anyways being that they were undisciplined newbies and all.
“4th platoon, Ewww-rah Probate Bomber!,” Corporal Riker belted loudly.
“Ewww-rah Probate Bomber!” all the probates replied in unison.
There for a second I couldn’t believe what I had just heard or what I had just been given. This was after all a motto that was only given when a probate did something spectacular, so as you can only imagine I was a little puffed up with pride at the moment. Needless to say, I now had a newfound respect for Corporal Riker. Besides, it went to show me that he really wasn’t such a bad guy after all.
True to his word, Corporal Stith kept after Probate Sawyer and me, just like he said he would. Sure enough, every time either one of us got thrashed, so did the other. Before long none of the exercises fazed us anymore, or at least that’s we thought until we decided to test that theory one day…
By this time we had grown accustomed to Stith and his antics. Besides, he wasn’t the type to write a disciplinary infraction over something petty like talking to another probate. When it came to something like that he was more content giving out those infamous mountain climbers that he claimed to have invented. Then again he also told us that he was the one who taught the Chinese how to do the Chinese push-up, so go figure.
But that’s exactly what you got from Corporal Stith, and you always knew what to expect from him. So, we weren’t the least bit surprised when he gave several of us, including Sawyer and me, the directive to do mountain climbers.
This time we decided to do things a little differently. Instead of counting off like we normally did, we decided to use a totally different cadence — one that we had picked from the 2nd platoon right before they had graduated.
“One, two, three, you can’t hurt me. One, two, three, you can’t hurt me…” we chanted in unison.
At first Corporal Stith didn’t pay us any attention. He was too busy sitting on a cooler, rubbing his chin, and looking up at the sky at God knows what. Finally, he snapped back to reality and realized what we were chanting.
“Oh, I can’t hurt you, huh? Check this out. You already know that I taught the Chinese how to do push-ups, but let me tell you, I have something very special for you. Put it to you this way, had the Chinese known about this one they’d want it instead of the push-ups I taught them. These ones are called ‘Star Jumpers.’ Trust me, you are going to love them!”
The way they work is you first touch your hip. That is position one. Position two is you bending over and touching the ground. Position three is standing back upright while touching your chest. Finally position four is you jumping up in the air while spreading your arms and legs as wide as you can, like a star. Hence the name.
After doing exercises for over eight weeks, you would’ve thought that we handled these with no problem whatsoever – not! By the time we reached twenty of them, every single one of us had been broken down by those bad boys.
As they say though, what doesn’t kill you only makes you stronger.
A few weeks later, several of us including myself, were given the privilege to go on a road trip. On one hand, it was nice to be among those chosen to go with some of the D.I.s and pick up some furniture from the police academy that was closing in Charlottesville.
On the other hand, this road trip occurred on the same day that the test results from school were supposed to come in and which I was extremely curious about.
When we first arrived at S.I.T.C., all of us took what is called the T.A.B.E. (Test of Basic American Education). The first time that I took it I pretty much treated the test like a joke somewhere around halfway through the test. After that I just penciled in random answers. Somehow or another I had managed to score a 9.1, meaning that my score was on the low end of the ninth grade.
However, in the grand scheme of things it really didn’t matter what your score was, or if you had a high school diploma. You still had to go to school no matter what.
Fortunately, the teacher that we had, Mr. Valentine, was pretty laid back and pretty much didn’t care if we talked or goofed off on the computer and played games. Usually, I opted to play games while most others worked on improving their score.
Finally, right before graduation we again took the T.A.B.E. test and this time I applied myself and even went as far as taking the advanced test. For those of us who didn’t have a high school diploma, like me, we also took the G.E.D. test around that same time. As far as that particular test went, we wouldn’t be able to find out how we did until well after graduation.
The moment that I was back on the camp I looked for an opportunity to ask someone about the results. It took a while, but finally I caught Probate Curry and whispered to him.
“Hey man, who got the most improved award in school?” I asked him.
At first he just shot me a dirty look, then he looked side to side to make sure that he wouldn’t be caught talking. Finally, he exclaimed, “wouldn’t you like to know!” The next thing I know he stomped off.
I wouldn’t find out until the next day that it was actually me who was to be given the most improved award. Not only that, but I had also scored the highest grade in the class, a 12.9, and had only missed one question.
It just went to show me what I could accomplish if I just applied myself.
Finally, the week that all of us were waiting for had arrived, graduation week. This was the week where we were done with work and school. About the only thing that we concentrated on was marching and getting our uniforms in order for graduation.
When it came to my marching, you would think that I would’ve learned to keep in step by now, but the truth of the matter I still couldn’t manage to stay in step.
As far as my uniform went, I really could not have cared less to be quite honest about it. Besides, it wasn’t like anyone was coming to my graduation. But still, I had come this far and of course I hadn’t taken my eye off the prize and wasn’t about to now. So yes, my boots would get spit shined to the max and that uniform would get pressed, even though I didn’t have a soul to impress.
When we were two days away from graduation, we were visited by the Lieutenant. Normally, the only time that you saw this guy was when you had gotten written up for something, as he was the one who was responsible for issuing out some sort of punishment, such as log duty or extra duty. Or, in worse cases, getting sent to the smokestack. Yup, this was the guy who had dwindled our numbers from 42 probates to a mere 23 by graduation time.
This time, however, he wasn’t there to dole out any sort of punishment. Instead, he had all of us sit down in the grass by the parade deck as he gave us a speech. As soon as he was finished he asked, “So, which one of you is receiving the PT (Physical Training) award?”
“Sir, Probate Crouse Sir!” he chimed loud and proud.
“Very good, Probate Crouse. Excellent job young man. Now, which one if you is to receive the most improved award?”
No one said a word, including myself. Instead, everyone turned around and looked at me.
There for a second he just looked at me incredibly. Finally, he got his bearings.
“You mean to tell me that Probate Bomber, who has been in and out of my office so many times that I lost count? And that this same Probate who stayed on log duty and extra duty for seven consecutive weeks is the one who got the most improved award? That’s it, everyone on their feet, especially you, Probate Bomber. As a matter of fact, I want you to personally march them over to the log pile. I know that you know where that is. This time everyone except Probates Bomber & Crouse is getting assigned a log.”
Of course, everyone was relieved to find out that he was only teasing when we got there.
Two days later, we sounded like thunder as we marched up the boulevard, making our way to the parade deck where many of the probates’ families were there to watch the ceremony. Yeah, I might not have had anyone there to impress, but I still was a reflection of the 4th platoon.
Moments later after receiving my award and officially graduating, I was greeted by all of the D.I.s that I was under. That’s when I found out by all of them that the reason why they were so hard on me and pushed like they did was because they saw some things in me that I didn’t see in myself. That is why they didn’t kick me out in the beginning. Of course, they added that they couldn’t help but notice that I had I stayed in step for graduation.
That was July 1st, 1993.
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