"I Was a Trooper."
Drill Instructor Franks
I first saw DI Franks get on the bus. He was a large man standing military tall, his drill instructor hat high on his head, in full dress uniform, gig line perfect, short dark hair, a head that looked solid sharp, blue eyes, a jaw made of iron down into a man that was more than 250 pounds of barrel standing a step over six feet the hat making him taller. He looked at us all and a short ruffling ensued, an inaudible laugh due to comments as we drove in leading to a laugh, "Look at those hats." "Where do those guys think they are, in a movie?" He was a 'Jar Head' and looked some what like a human 'Bull Dog'; I thought. I looked at the strips, a Sargent what comes next proved my human Bull Dog metaphor, was one of those beautiful soliloquies' you hear about but never think it will be you at the receiving end of. He stood looking us over until a sort of hush came.
"Stop talking..." Two words started it, a hush, movement still happened, us in our seats, but he had our attention, "You belong to me." it started as usual, then went left quick, "I own you walking mistakes, rejects of the community, tried and convicted felons, inmates..." He looked around some of us thought things might be different that hope was dashed, 'Inmate' is a very generic word like saying, horse manure, dung, feces by the generic word, in reference. Later I would know that once I stepped off that bus, I was no longer an Inmate, I was a 'Trooper'.
"... as soon as you get off this bus, you have been sent here to this program because someone saw something in you, you can leave anytime you can't cut it, most don't, you are a disappointment to your Mom and Dad, so I am your Mom and Dad; I am the walking two footed storm of your existence." We had no idea what that meant and it seemed he was insulting us beyond, and some fellow went there under his breath, a little neck talking, murmur.
"Stop talking!" It was loud. I mean the kind of sound that was like the bark of a very big dog, very close; for, I had the misfortune of being close to the front of the bus. A 250 pound dog is a very BIG dog! "You!" an arm went out from the torso finger on the end landing like a judgment, "You." "What is your name?" at this point he was barking every word. A terrible time period must ensued of mental turmoil while the poor fellow caught unaware that he was within the big dogs yard and verbally ran for the fence his voice leaving him. A squeak came out,
"Simons" D.I. looked down at him noting the name mentally and then went on. I think this scared Simons more.
"You will be told when to eat, when to stand, when to walk, when to run, when to sleep when to work, no books, no magazine's, no papers, no television, you get one phone call on Sunday after two weeks if you work into the phone schedule, we will tell you the news, we will tell you when you have to know the news, but for now you are not here to know anything unless we tell it to you." He didn't take a breath, he never missed a word, and his voice never lowered for the next four months. "You will never eat a spread again, you will study, you will work, you will drill, you will PT, you will hurt, you will stand, work, PT, in the rain, mud, sleet, and like it, you will be dedicated, motivated, be willing for change that we must see, and you will if some of you are able to retain some form of moral integrity, honesty, and fortitude you surely have not shown in your life, and if we say you made a real change with this program you will go home, other wise you will be shipped back to your home institutions to do the rest of your time, you will lose your good time, you will go to the hole, you will be ineligible for all programs in the future, you have your shot if you step of this bus." Scare tactics defiantly set before us a reality of this is not what you expected, not what you heard even from someone was here, this was not in the cards, so it seemed we got on a ride and their was no way of getting off, and we had to see it to the end, hell or real hell lay in wait the kind even tough guys say "F$!% that!" if we have any smarts to back up the talk. Freedom is the paramount objective of any man, and being locked up let's you know really what that means. "73 men, you are the 15th Platoon." He looked at us all for long second registering faces and he seemed to take accounting of a list in his head while looking us over in contrast for a second his demeanor changed; I would know later why, words of reverence, "Welcome to the Hill." and he got of the bus.
We filed after him, off the bus two by two, and where directed in ragged lines to a short staging area where our cuffs were take off and the count was done. We were all swinging our necks looking at everything then like a bunch of lemurs just let loss in the fence while being yelled at by DI's Tooth/Cason and DI Wolf adding in all the other DI's who were yelling, and the staff with the LT looking on, everyone came for the festivities of a new platoon on the Hill. We kept getting out of sorts as we waited the count, the DI's, the confusion was splendid. All of it was done with efficient yelling by DI Tooth/Carson and DI Wolf at the helm, then the bark, "A quitter!" We all looked towards the disturbance getting quiet, "We have our first quitter, he would rather go eat spreads, go to a yard fenced by double razor wire, eat all he wants, watch television in the day room, call his girl pretend she's not seeing Jodi, "Jodi?" I thought. Well we are happy to give him a ride back and we extend the same ride to everyone with a nice set of bracelets to go with it as leg irons and chains for transport were brought out. The fellow was mad and showing it in his sudden realization of wearing the chains. "Hell with this place!" He yelled in rebellion, and "F^#! you!" to emphasis the fact he thought he was getting a raw deal. He stood at the front of the bus by the door hoping to get back on, and on seeing the leg chains he felt that that in no way was part of the bargain. He was not in charge at all and soon found his continued refusal of simple facts and his anger were just getting him deeper in the staffs actions. He was lead off, not put back on the bus, but lead to the hole in a white building we could see the glass bricks for light. "We now have two waiting transport. Here is a nice fact this used to be a military base and they have a real nice cement box with only those bricks you see for light, no heat, no air. "Yes" he swept his arm towards the building where the man was being lead still complaining over his shoulder doing the duck walk "We always have room." We were marched lead as a unruly rabble into the next staging area inside.
"Form on the lines." DI Tooth/Carson took the lead verbally. She yelled to, in a constant line of repeated commands. "I want four equal lines." You have no idea the inability of 72 men to form four equal lines while being yelled at and a whole new set of social rules of which the "Sir Mam" sandwich of speaking was outlined, "Everything you say will start with a Sir or Mam and end with a Sir or Mam. That's the Sir Mam sandwich." She went on voice not lowered; I don't think voices on the hill lower until 6 pm, but that is just for ushering in the dark because loud was a constant from the DI's a never ending streams of verbal soliloquies then came DI Franks again The 13th Platoon came
