Moment 290: ROT CEE

R.O.T.C.
Or "ROT CEE"
OR "AR-OH"-

Whatever you wanna call it- I wasn't that good at it. I mean, I could march. I kinda knew what my uniform was supposed to look like- I don't think I had the head for it at the time though, you know?

We spent a lot of time learning about the military and how it works. It was very informative. You'd be learning what stripes meant what. Chain of command. A little bit of Air Force history- shit like that.

I used to love it when Fiegenbaum would roll in puffing on his pipe. That shit smelled awesome- plus his class would be mostly zen like. You know- like some jedi master passing knowledge onto his padawan. This was a rare treat though because usually the class was taught and run by SGT. Killian.
Yes. His real name was Killian.

He was what they call- "a screamer". That comes with that whole "SGT" thing. You would be in the class all nervous and shit, hoping you didn't get called on to do something. And now- when I think back- I can't remember exactly what the hell we did in class with him. I just remember not wanting to be called for anything. I should have kept a journal back then...

The BIG thing I remember about ROT CEE is inspection Fridays.
Every Friday we would have these inspections where you would show up to class and immediately file out to line up in "flight".
Sgt. Killian would come down the line and slowly pick us apart. First he would stand in front of you- almost nose to nose, then leaning to the right and then back to the left.
He would call out errors one by one and his assistant- another student from the class who was some sort of leader or something- would mark them down.

"Gig. Haircut."
"Gig. Mustache."
"Gig. Wrinkles."

and if there were too many- it would cause him to go into tirade.

"Gig. Shoe shine. Gig. Gig line- GORDEN!"
"Sir! Yes Sir!"

"What's wrong with you, Gorden?"
"Sir! Nothing Sir!"
"Oh! Well, did you iron your shirt this morning?"
"Sir! Yes Sir!"
"Really? 'Cause it looks like you ironed your shirt with a brick, Gorden!"
"No sir!"
"And then it looks like you used that same brick to shine your shoes, Gorden!"
"Uh, no sir!"
"And do you know how to shave, Gorden!? Because you have more hair on your face than I do my chest, Gorden!-"
"I've never- uh-"
"Do you respect this uniform, Gorden!?"
"Sir! Yes Si-"
"I don't think you DO!-" he would shout, as he got so close to my face it felt as if my nose was tickling the back of his throat- "Because you look like a HOG, Gorden! YOU LOOK LIKE A HOG!!!"


Yeah.
And I would do ANYTHING not to be in uniform that day- I had excuses out the wazoo, lit it was at the cleaners or I needed to get a new shirt that fit better- which was ignorant because I would just have to wear my uniform on Monday and get inspected anyway, but there was a slight chance I would get inspected by a fellow student as opposed to Killian.

The other thing that kinda bugged me out is that, like any military organization- we had a ranking system- which is cool! I mean, you need ranks in the military- but it was especially weird to give this sort of- you know, POWER to one student over another one in High School. You know? 'Cause they don't know how to deal and whatnot. For the most part it was cool but you can imagine some of the shit that went down. It was a fuckin' soap opera.

I didn't realize then that the actual military would be the same in a lot of ways. Bottom line is- I got to do some cool shit. Marching was kinda fun. I met some cool people too.

Ron- who lived on my street was an ROTC dude as well and I was thankful to have him as he was the only other dude who grew up with us that was in with me. So I had someone I could relate to. His mother was a single parent, too so- even though my Mom had been with my step dad for a while at that point- I think we could relate on that level a little as well.


I don't know whatever happened to Killian or Col. F- In fact- after I did my three years of ROTC (enough to earn an extra stripe should I join the military) I got the fuck out. My senior year was spent in art classes and rolling out to lunch early and my Fridays belonged to me.