blanket, my posture or the quality of my voice (he referred to my diaphragm a lot). He did not approve of my marching style or my expertise at Close Order Drill.

One afternoon, the Bully in Blues called me into his office and announced that he was putting me on the Drill Team. He quickly chilled my elation by expounding on this ‘Drill Team concept’…I was chosen to become a member of the ‘after-hours drill team’ and I was to fall-out after chow every evening, with rifle, for extra instructions. There were many other horror stories during those three months, but I think you’ve got the picture.

I took everything that the Chief had to offer, including his ranting and raving and his attempts to demean and berate me during my time in Boot Camp. If I had a choice, I would rather have done twelve weeks on a ‘Can in the North Atlantic.

Perhaps Chief Johnson wanted an apology from me for my Roll Call ‘faux pas’ on that first day, my guess is that he needed to show everyone else how costly a memory lapse could be, maybe he was just plain psycho. I think that he should have been out at sea instead of ‘pushing boots’ at Great Lakes.

Slowly, time passed, and Recruit Training came to an end, After Graduation, when all the guys in Company 97 were saying their goodbyes and signing each others Company Photograph, I was urged by many of my buddies (I had become quite popular) to shake hands with Hose Nose and ask him to sign my photograph, as they had done. Well, I never apologized and I never gave that wretched soul the satisfaction of asking for his autograph or a handshake. I never saw him again and for that I am grateful.

I was assigned to the Fargo Building in Boston, Mass. for Radar School. The remainder of my enlistment, (three years, ten months and twenty-nine days) were spent on Tin Cans, the USS Ernest G. Small DD-838 and the USS Wadleigh DD-689, and for that I am also grateful.

Full Speed Ahead
Donald A. Wayman, RD2

THE TINCAN SAILOR
APRIL 1993