Air Force OTS, Lackland, San Antonio, TX

The four of us from California stayed at a motel in San Antonio though I am not sure if pairs of us shared a motel room or each had his own room.  I do remember at least three of us swimming in the motel pool in the afternoon.  

We reported to Lackland the following morning.  George Tucker and I managed to be placed in the blue squadron.  One of the guys was in the yellow; the other in the green.  That was pretty much the last I saw of those two.  George and I would continue through the entire program together since he was also a pilot candidate.

While there was an entire Air Force officer staff for OTS, and we had a first lieutenant flight commander who was prior service and became an officer through OTS himself a few years before, most of OTS was run by the cadets themselves, from a Cadet Wing Commander all the way down to cadet second lieutenants.  But being given a cadet position would happen after the first six weeks of OTS.  And the first three weeks were when we would affectionately be referred to as "woolies".  Those little accumulations of dust bunnies under your bed in the dorms.

Our first dorm was a modern, three-story affair.  The cadet I shared my two-man room with was a amiable guy who, because of mistaken understanding of a single event, would be selected as the Cadet Wing Commander in his final three weeks at OTS.  But the first three weeks as woolies, while we marched our flight around as we marched our platoon around at OTS, when we got to the dining hall, we had to remain silent, not eye-ball the area, and after we got our food, we had to sit at each four-person table without talking and without looking up from our plates until we were done eating.  We were supposed to go to the first open table and fill in those that were next. 

If we were ever given instructions and any misunderstanding could result, I would misunderstand.  One morning, as first in line, I saw a table with only one person sitting there, though he was from another flight.  I sat down with him but a cadet staff member who was in charge of the dining hall, affectionately referred to as "the cookie monster", came over and berated me for sitting at this otherwise empty table with someone who was obviously almost finished eating and who would have to wait until I was done before he could get up and leave.  I forgot to mention that when four of you sat down to eat, you could not get up and leave until all four of you were done eating.  Frankly, I do not recall how you indicated to one another that you were done eating when you could not look up from your plate and could not speak to one another.  But somehow we muddled through and got out.  That particular morning, after being thoroughly chided by the upper classman, I gobbled down my food and the other fellow and I got up and walked outside to get in line with our respective flights, to go back to the dorms.

Unlike Marine OCS, Air Force OTS had men and women in each flight.  Far fewer women attended in each class, but in my first flight we had two women.  They were in the same dorm building as we but on the first floor.  When we formed up outside the dorm for meals, one of us guys would go inside, knock on the door and inform whoever answered that our flight was ready to leave and for the women in our flight to join us.  One morning, I was tasked to get them.  David Hunn, who also would be in the flight screening program with George Tucker and me, was to march us to chow.  I went inside, got the two women in just a couple of minutes; but when the three of us returned to the spot where the flight was supposed to be waiting, they were gone.

David Hunn was impulsive and bull-headed.  Even though I was inside for just a couple minutes at most, he figured he'd waited long enough and marched the rest of the guys off to breakfast.  I was furious.  I had to march the three of us to the dining hall.  Right and left of us were full flights, and here was a contingent of three woolies marching by ourselves to breakfast.  I just tried to get us to the dining hall without an upperclassman chiding us.  Of course, when I was finally able to confront David for leaving us behind, he claimed they had waited long enough for us and took off because we were taking too long.  We will come to obnoxious OT (Officer Trainee) Hunn later.

Unlike Marine OCS, I developed a blister on my right big toe from the hard shoes (no boots) we wore every day.  The medical staff always warned us that blisters on your feet in the humid climate could become extremely dangerous.  They would prescribe the same old socks but flip flops instead of shoes.  So much of my first three weeks, I would have to wear flip flops, which made marching awkward.  And I often managed to be in front of OT Hunn who would invariably step on the back of one of my flip flops, ripping it off my foot and ruining it so I would have to march in just a sock until I could replace the broken flip flop.  I went through several pair of what we would normally only wear to take showers in the dorm.        

We did get to catch a break partway through our first three weeks by being allowed to fly in a Cessna from Hondo field.  It was a chance to get away from the base for a few hours and relax.  Below are a few of the photos I took on this excursion. 

One of the two women in our flight and Brian Bauries, another FSP candidate, and my brand new 1973 Camaro, at Hondo Field, an old Army Air Corps training base from WWII.  The old buildings near the hangar featured an entire base of cinema, chow hall, barracks, and anything else a fully functioning base needed.  


     

David Hunn is on the far left.  The other woman in our flight is on the right.  The guy in the background, admiring the B-25 was a really nice guy in our flight.  The other guy in the middle I do not remember either.   Thing is, after our first six weeks together, those of us in the Flight Screening Program would leave for three weeks, be out of the cadet wing entirely.  Our previous flight would continue on and graduate three weeks before we could.  When we returned from FSP, we would join a new flight who had just lost their FSP members.  This flight had started OTS three weeks after our original flight had started.  Brian Bauries, David Hunn, George Tucker and I would have to make new friends or acquaintances all over again.  But it was this new flight that we became more familiar with and with whom we bonded more closely since we, and they, were then upper classmen. 

This was the hot guy at Hondo Field.  Of course, I never even thought of pairing off with anyone while there, the same with OCS, even if someone might be gay (though unlikely).  Although at least one of the guys paired off with one of the women in the second three weeks of OTS for a brief liaison, sex was not possible unless you wanted to get caught and tossed out.

Here was the same hot guy on his bunk.  He's wearing our Blue squadron T-shirt and shorts that we wore for athletics, running, sports, and anything else like that.  (This was probably during our second three week period at OTS when we were no longer woolies.)

Again at Hondo Field, August 1973.  From left to right, another guy I do not remember, the hot guy, and me.  As you can see, I am wearing socks and flip flops.  (It was a nasty blister.)

 

We had paid a specific sum, maybe it was $25.  An upper classman who was pilot trained would fly us around the area, one at a time for fifteen minutes.  This was important, especially for those of us who were going to enter the Flight Screening Program.  Unfortunately for me, I was one of the last to go up.  It was a very hot and muggy day.  I think we had eaten burgers earlier.  As soon as the upperclassman began to do easy clearing turns, I got so damned sick to my stomach and puked.  It was not only embarrassing but more importantly a foreshadowing of what was to come for me during FSP.

These were probably taken before my abortive flight where I paid good money to get deathly ill.  The top photo is Brian Bauries, me sitting, and another cute guy in our flight.  The middle photo is of several members of our flight.  The bottom is of me leaning on that same B-25 Mitchell bomber.

Brian tried to cheer me up, telling me that just because I got sick on that day did not mean I would get sick while undergoing FSP.  I was not so sure.