There are key decision points in every person's life where one's life may have been very different had the decision been made another way. I had to make one of those important choices nearly 50 years ago, in November 1968.
It was in Air Force basic training, in an innocuous classroom at Lackland Air Force Base in San Antonio, Texas, where my entire flight of trainees was assembled to fill out some important paperwork considering our Air Force careers. It was one of those basic training rarities - a chance to actually decide something. Each of us could pick one of three options: 1) a career field; 2) a first duty station; or 3) a chance at attending Officers Training School.
Trainees picking a career field or first duty station were guaranteed to get what they wanted, a real bonus for those who entered the Air Force to learn a particular trade or who were exceedingly homesick. Since neither option appealed to me, I rolled the dice at a shot at OTS, and promptly forgot about it. I was having second thoughts by the end of basic, though, when I learned that I would be remaining at Lackland for another six weeks to attend security police training. It was near the end of that training that I got the word that I would be sticking around Lackland even longer as a member of OTS class 69-02.
Orders to a Kansas AFB were canceled and another SP grad and I were place on "casual" status while we waited for our OTS class to begin. We took a week's leave before returning to Lackland where we were assigned to the base Security Police squadron. Since we were to be there just a short time, we really didn't have any duties. We spent most days moving furniture and assembling dormitory bunk beds. A daily duty was to provide music for the noon pass in review required of many trainees. Every day around 11:45 we'd assume our positions in a dorm window overlooking the parade grounds where we'd proceed to play tape cartridges of patriotic music and the national anthem. We especially appreciated the arrival of the training admin officer, a first lieutenant, who arrived a minute or two before noon in his cherry red Dodge Charger in what appeared by his demeanor to be an intrusion into his day. That'll be us in a couple of years, we thought as he stood on a podium to review the troops.
The routine was broken one day when our NCO thought it might be a good idea for us to get a taste of real-life military justice.
"There's a trainee that's being court martialed today," he said. "You should go."
We walked the several blocks to the courtroom, arriving just in time to see the young airman testifying. Seems he had been caught shoplifting two or three audio cassettes from the base exchange.
"I didn't mean to take them," he said. "I saw a buddy outside and I was just going out to get money from him to pay for them when they grabbed me."
The officers hearing the case didn't buy it. They swiftly decided his fate: a busting of rank to airman basic, some sort of fine and 30 days in confinement. Not only was the verdict swift, it was harsh, my buddy and I agreed as we walked back to our squadron headquarters.
The NCO asked what happened and we started to tell him about how this tribunal of officers threw the book at this young airman but he raised his hand as if to stop us.
"No, no. What happened to the prisoner?" he asked.
That's when it dawned on us: we were actually supposed to be working as security policemen, not mere observers. The NCO quickly shuffled us into a van and we drove back to the courtroom where we found the prisoner sitting. We took him into custody and delivered him to the stockade.
Fortunately, our careers in law enforcement officially ended on June 30, 1969, when my buddy and I were finally commissioned as second lieutenants. That was a good day for us ... and for the Air Force security police.
Author Larry Lehmer's book about Dick Clark and American Bandstand -- Bandstandland: How Dancing Teenagers Took Over America and Dick Clark Took Over Rock & Roll --is available from Sunbury Press. His book about the last tour of Buddy Holly, the Big Bopper and Ritchie Valens -- The Day the Music Died: The Last Tour of Buddy Holly, the Big Bopper and Ritchie Valens -- is available at Amazon.
Larry - this gave me a chuckle as I ended up as a Security Policeman for four years in Cheyenne WY - when I got out four years later, and eventually decided I wanted to go back, I insisted Security Police records be sealed, i.e. I wanted NO chance to go back to that task. I ended up in communications and had a good go of that for my military career. Regardless, this post is one I enjoyed as it brought back vivid memories.
P.S. they took our entire basic training flight to Cheyenne as SPs. They were opening the Minute Man Sites at the time.
Posted by: JSmyzer Wilson | September 29, 2017 at 10:36 AM