EPTRecycle:
A recycle is where you were injured or administratively held until the situation was resolved. For example: You get busted doing something stupid in week 2, you would stick around for a while until the paperwork went through, then you would go back to a newer flight that was week 2. The same thing applies if you were injured.
We had a few people recycle into our flight, and we had a few people recycle out of our flight. None of the people leaving the flight were for getting in trouble. Can't say the same for the people who came in. They usually came in without notice, until somoene points them out.
The shoppette:
My dorm was actually right across the street from the shoppete. The reason this was even important is because about 30 seconds upon reaching the dorm in the first place, they confiscated almost all our shit. Minus some cash and stuff, but the majority of it was locked away. So we had to get basic necessities. Stuff like towels, soap, toothbrush, basic hygiene shit. I think we went halfway through the first week.
We marched to the shoppette. We were told that only X of us were allowed in at a time to avoid crowding the place up. And man, did we do it anyways. We were also told to only buy shit we needed (we had a list). Nothing else.
The ones outside hated their lives. It was hot as balls and all we were allowed to do was study out of the study packet. I noticed a few people getting close to passing out. Our canteens were running on empty, people were taking so long in there Eventually you got in to buy your shit. We had already went to Finance earlier to setup our direct deposit to our bank accounts. They also gave us some kinda card to use to buy stuff from the shoppette. I think it had like 300ish $ on it.
The total amount of shit I had to buy amounted to about 250$ or some crazy shit. I was less than pleased, but I had to buy it.
If we ran out of shit, we would occasionally be allowed back to buy more stuff.
Halfway through:
It was fairly easy to recognize where people were in training, as I stated before, based on their uniform.
0-1: Civilian clothes
1-2: Uniform. No tags.
3+: Uniform. Tags.
Tags referred to your name and the service actually sewn onto the uniform. For Army, they get velcro, that's an exception, but to my knowledge, all the other branches got their name and respective service sewn onto their uniform. I presume sometime during their respective basic, because that's when I did mine.
It was sometime during 3rd week, I remember, we went to the same place that we actually picked up our uniforms. Again, we had to pack up all our uniforms up into that sack and carry them all the way there. It was somewhere around a 20-30m march, which now doesn't seem like much, but I had a 20-30 pound sack on my ass.
I get there and find out that we're also getting our Blues. These are the formal wear that the Air Force get. Other branches get their own formal wear that they refer to as whatever (Class A's, I believe are the Army equivalent). So they took our measurements as they're supposed to be snug on us. Or something like that.
We got them, and balled them up to stuff them into our bags alongside our newly personalized uniforms. Damn they were wrinkly when we got back.
My dorm chief:
I commonly referred to him as leader, but his official title was dorm chief. He had 4 element leaders which were more or less just people who volunteered to get their ass kicked for stupid shit we (the rest of the flight) did.
He was a pretty small guy from what I remember. I do remember he was from California, but referred to himself as a redneck.
I don't know how that was possible. He claimed he was from far north Cali. He definately acted redneck like until somehow a conversation about In N Out was brought up and he instantly jumped in at how fantastic the place is. That about dissolved any doubt that he was from California for me.
Anyways, I think it was either the 2nd or 3rd week. During that time, we were all doing our details (the duties we either volunteered or got voluntold to do) or folding clothes (which was a ridiculous issue at the time due to ridiculously specific inspections), when someone came back from doing something downstairs. I don't remember what, but it was important to note that the Latrine crew had just finished cleaning up the latrine, and it was implied that you shouldn't go in there unless it was an emergency.
We heard the shower turn on.
I don't know if I mentioned this before, but the shower was a community shower. For those who don't know, it's a room with 7 shower heads and knobs around the room. That's it, there's no curtains, no walls, no privacy. You get in, you get wet, throw some soap on, wash it off, and get the hell out. We don't have time for you to be scrubbing between your toes kinda shit.
Well, anyways, the shower went on, and the Latrine crew (including me) looked at each other, and then gazed at the latrine. I knew who had gone in, I just was in a slight amount of awe that he gave that little of a shit as to our hard work.
My dorm chief bolted in there and got into a screaming match with the guy while he was still showering. I don't remember what came of it, but I remember amused watching a guy in PT uniform (which was also different than the current PT gear, I miss the old stuff), arguing with a naked guy while a shower was going on, and the entire dorm was outside listening in.
Fun times.
Week 5:
So now we jump back to the end of Warrior Week. I didn't really go into the odd shit that happened there, because actually not much did happen there.
After we ran the obstacle course, we were told to head back to our tents and pack up our shit. Because we were anxious to get out of the tents, we were more or less already done, we just had to sweep the shit up.
So we did. In an hour or so the buses came to drive us back to Lackland from whereever the hell we were at.
Getting back was more or less a smooth transition, except when I was rushing off the bus, I dropped my gun case. Nothing came of it other than some snide comments from my TI, but it was mostly brushed off.
We spent the rest of the day cleaning up our uniforms. I don't envy the laundry crew that day. The Laundry crew had a hard enough job because they took everyone's laundry. Not just that, we shared a laundry room with... everyone else that lived in the dorms. I think that's about 6 flights or something, give or take 30 people a flight, that's 180 people's worth of laundry to be done every day. Ouch. And we hadn't done laundry the entire time we were at Warrior Week.
For our actual uniforms, they were taken to a nearby laundromat. It was OK. The big thing was that it creased our uniforms for us. We weren't actually allowed to have an iron, even though it's a requirement, so we had to do something.
We gave Laundry crew shit the entire time we were there. Laundry was always missing and we'd somehow gain extra underwear. We all wrote identifying marks on it to show that it's ours, but due to the influx of people having to use it everyday, it's no wonder shit gets lost. It doesn't matter, we made fun of them anyways.
The uniforms getting out of Warrior Week was a mess. Dirt in places I didn't know were on my uniform, uniforms faded to the point of unrecognizability, some boots were torn to the point of being unservicable, it was silly.
Somehow we got it all taken care of.
The rest of the week was exam week, and prepping for Graduation. We spent a good chunk of time in classroom, studying over general Air Force policies and procedures. More or less review over the study material they had given us. Also our PT test was this week, and we were given squadron details.
The squadron details were effectively jobs around the squadron we had to do. It wasn't anything difficult, mostly sweeping and stuff. There were lucky people who got chow hall ... something, I can't remember what they were called, but they worked in the chow hall. They effectively got to eat anything they wanted in there. There was ice cream, candy, soda, all the unhealthy shit were you eyeing while you were in the chow hall, but had no idea how to get it without getting yelled at.
I swept.
Man the PT test. I already have stated that I was a scrawny Asian kid. This did not, and still has not changed. I actually failed the pushups and situps the first time, missing the requirement by like, 10 or something. The run I was fine on, I wasn't concerned about that.
The retest got me passing the Pushups, but not the situps. Eventually my TI tested me himself. Quite an oddity. I wasn't actually sure what was gonna happen to me at the time until he called me into the day room with some other guys in the same boat as me. I pushed hard as fuck with the rest of my flight cheering me on. I was pretty damn proud of myself, finally passing the shit.
The exam was nothing really difficult, I very seldomly had issues academically.
At sometime halfway through the week (it was either 5th or 6th week this occured, I'm not entirely sure), we were marched to a pad to be presented an Airman's coin.
Throughout Basic, we would refer to ourselves as trainees. After you recieve that coin, you would refer to yourself as Airman. A few people (including myself) had issues adjusting to that, and messed up anyways.
Week 6:
Graduation week. We'd all hoped for this time to come, and it finally did.
Before graduation actually occured, about halfway through the week, we did what was called the Airman's Run. Essentially it was a 5k around the base, with all our family and friends cheering and taking pictures. We all wore our respective squadron T-shirts to represent. Or something. It was easy, we ran singing songs and junk. Then graduation came.
Graduation was a ridiculous ceremony. Each squadron had 2 graduating flights, for well over 300 people graduating that day. Band flight (Yes, there was a flight that also incorporated music into their training program) was there banging at their drums, blowing on their trumpets, blah blah blah. Everyone else was standing in blues, trying to remember what they said in training, and how to respond.
I remember this day well. It was the first time I had to actually put on my blues, and I did not know how to tie a tie at all. I still don't know, come to think of it. Anyways, the rest of the flight kinda looked at each other when the TI told us to put the stuff on.
After about 10-15 minutes of awkward testing, we were more or less dressed. The people who didn't know how to tie a tie, had someone else who did know tie it for them, and were told to just never untie it. Brilliant.
We marched out there and stood around for what seemed like hours before we went into the ceremony itself. The ceremony is something you should really experience for yourself in a spectator standpoint for the full "wow" effect. My ass stood around for about 1-2 hours and my legs were going numb.
At the end of the ceremony, we were marched to a pad where our family and friends came by to take us on our first trips off base (if you were allowed to) since we had gotten to basic (not counting Warrior Week). We were told to stand there until someone came by to take us. If no one was coming, just head back to the dorm after a certain amount of time. I felt really bad for those guys that had no one coming.
My mom eventually came. I didn't notice her out of my peripheral, I just noticed a lot of my flight dissiminating slowly. My mom, my stepdad and my sister were all there. It was something really emotional for me, to see someone smiling to see me. It's something you miss after about 3 weeks in. They told us as part of one of our exercises during Aerobics day to get into the fetal position. That was the only hug you were gonna get in Basic. They were essentially right.
Anyways, my mom and stepdad took me off base to San Antonio. It was nice to not have a set schedule, and at the same time a little overwhelming. I had a curfew to be back by, so we went somewhere downtown to get some food. Other Airmen passed by occasionally. I ignored them for the most part, I assume they were in the same euphoric state of mild freedom I was.
I went back to the dorm to get ready for some more briefings and paperwork as I got ready to head out of Basic.
The next couple of days, we didn't have anything particular planned. Our TI told us, if you have a base pass (which you got for excelling at the PT test, obviously I didn't have one), you could spend more time with the family. I spent more time with the family anyways. I didn't go off base, but it was comforting to me at the time. Our TI did recommend that if you didn't have anything done, go do outprocessing, which consisted of marching to places that were obnoxiously far to get someone to sign a piece of paper.
Specific people did have special briefings related to their jobs as well. I was one of them. There were a few other people in my flight headed to an intelligence related job, so we had a special briefing then.
I only remember the march there because it was during lunch. We had to stop at some other squadron to eat on the way there, or we weren't gonna eat that day. We got to the chow hall at an odd time, where no one else was there, so we all sat down. I was an oddball, and had to sit at a table by myself. As I plopped down and got ready to scarf down, I noticed a pair of jeans outside of my peripheral. Oh god, a flight of rainbows just came in. And I'm the next table. I tried to quickly eat, but couldn't finish before the new guys got to my table and sat down. Eyes had no emotion besides fear. I felt a hand on my shoulder.
"Pick up your tray, Airman"
I complied. The table went flying under my arms and the TI behind me went screaming at one of the guys next to me. I didn't bother to finish, I walked my happy ass out of there as fast as I could, and we continued our march.
We get to the building we were told to go to, and after getting lost for a bit, we reached a room where some other people looked equally lost, so we figured it was the right place, and sat down. Eventually, we were given a paper with our AFSC (Air Force Specialty Code. Read: Our job). Linguists were given a special letter at the end of theirs signifiying the language they were to study.
Mine turned out to be Russian. What the fuck.
I tried to figure out what the hell happened. This was the first time in my Air Force career that I had little control over what the hell happened to my own career. And I wasn't even out of Basic yet. There was little I could do, the people that decided that shit were way over my pay grade, or the pay grade of the people I was actually allowed to talk to. I eventually ran out of time to try and argue, had to drop the topic and put up with it.
Leaving:
The night we were leaving, our TI did 2 things.
1. He gave us back our civilian stuff. It was all locked in a closet that was in the dorm, we just weren't allowed in. Obviously. We spent the rest of the night toying around with the stuff we brought with us. Cell phones, cameras, and laptops mostly. This kept us entertained until our respective buses came to take us to Tech School, the next step in the Air Force career. Where you learn your job.
2. Amnesty Hour. It's not necessarily an hour, but it's a time that the TI allows to let us get shit off our chest of stuff that we know we shouldn't have done while we were there, but we did it anyways. There were no repurcussions. Think of it as a community confession booth. Except you get to see the priest, and there's an audience. I knew it was coming, and a lot of the stuff I /facepalmed.
Some stuff that came up:
-Someone on Dorm Guard duty snuck into the TI's room to use his cell phone to call home when the TI wasn't around.
-Someone had put IcyHot on their nuts (Actually that was me. The story was that after some guys bought IcyHot, they were informed they couldn't have it. Well, they had to throw it away, but they dared someone 20$ to put it on their nuts instead. That was a painful 20$).
-People snuck into the civilian stuff cabinet to use their shit.
-Descriptions of weird places to hide food that came out of the chow hall.
There was other stuff that came up, I'm sure, but I can't remember it now.
Eventually, after dicking around for a couple of hours, the dorm slowly became more and more vacant. People would fly out at odd times. I was no exception. My bus got to my dorm at about 2ish. I went downstairs early to get ready with a few other guys. My TI was there to see me off. First time I saw him even attempt to crack a smile.
The bus shuttled us off to another office like area. We were told to sit in a desk until our socials were called off to identify us. People were passing out around us and she eventually told us that we'd be forced to stand if you passed out.
I admit, I was dead tired. And she called my social off in a way I don't normally recite it. She was pissed at me when I didn't immediately respond and had the rest of the room stand up to wake us up. Whoops.
My social was called and a few of us heading to Monterey were given an itinerary. We got onto a bus, and shuttled off to the airport to head out. After a couple of hours, off I was, back to California.
