In the summer of 1957, I joined a cadet training program with the Lincoln and Welland infantry reserve in Niagara Falls. It didn't do me any harm, although I don't recall that time fondly. There was a lot of pointless drilling, route marches, obsolete WW II weapons, flies drowning in butter in the dining tent, sleeping on the ground, crawling on the ground, camouflage practice in the bush, and a bunch of old men getting their kicks out of giving orders. By the way, I got so many mosquito bites in the bush that I was in sick bay for half a day. The officer who ordered us into the bush called me out for being too stupid to avoid the bugs. Of course, if I had run out of the bush he would have said, "Bang, you're dead. Pretty poor camouflage, Private Ware."
I spent most of the summer looking and feeling foolish. Take marching on parade. You would think it would be a simple thing to march around the parade ground in step with the guys. Surprise, it's not that easy; the parade ground is so large that there is a delay that increases as you march away from the band. So do we march in time with the music we hear, or pacing the platoons close to the band who hear it sooner, or in step with the soldier ahead who is rhythmically challenged? When it's all over, I discover that someone made a movie showing that I am the one guy in the battalion who doesn't know how to march. Too much thinking, not enough doing.
Well, I signed up for the money, not to look good, not to attract the girls with a spiffy uniform, not for marching or shooting or throwing grenades or taking orders or giving orders. I learned something about all of those things that summer, but the most significant lesson was about my own character. I learned that I am out of step with the army, always have been and always will be.
I hear you saying, "I knew that." We all know I would make a terrible soldier. Just imagine.
Sargent (to the platoon in the trench): "Ready, men. Wait for it. Wait for it. OK, open fire."
Private Ware: "I don't know, Sarge. You still haven't told us why we are killing these guys."
Sargent: "If you don't shoot them, they will shoot you. Come to think of it, I might shoot you myself."
Private Ware: "Yes, but..."
BANG
And that's my life, over and over again, questioning orders and dodging bullets.
This did remind me of one of my ancient memories. I can't recall who introduced marching in formation as one of the electives at a junior high youth camp I once attended at Erie Beach. (You can tell it was very ancient history, not unlike yours.)
ReplyDeleteHowever, I recall finding the drill quite fun. I enjoyed learning the formations and keeping in step with the rest of the lineup. We had no band but I realized the whole business of keeping in step, anticipating the commands, turning as one living creature quite thrilling. It's not nearly as easy or as intuitive as it looks.
It's one of those activities that helped me appreciate what others are doing even if I never do it again myself. (I never did.) I still appreciate those big parades on a whole different level for having spent that single week at junior high camp.
It's not unlike my experience with curling, perhaps. I only every tried curling one season but that was enough for me to develop a genuine appreciating for the finer points of the sport and to enjoy watching for decades.
There, part of my mysterious life story for your amusement.
The only reminder this brought me was growing up tap dancing! I had to be in time with the rest of the class, and it was VERY noticeable (audibly) when I wasn't.
ReplyDeleteThe most annoying part was having to smile during it all!!