ARMY There is a strip of asphalt in front of the Quonset hut of platoon 2 Company D that even now 47 years later part of me is still standing in front of while screaming drill sergeants declare what a low life motherfucker son of a donkey shit I am. It was easy to believe First class Sergeant Hill when he said we would never forget his face. Sergeant’s boot slammed into the heel of my foot for not standing straight and looking tall. The brim of his smoky the bear hat up brushed up against my cheek as he declared the induction center barber left too much sideburn. I twinged as he took out a pair of tweezers and began plucking out the obscene hairs. Orders that were at first welcomed to drop and give me 20 because they broke the tedium of standing at attention became problematic as my limbs got pushed aside to cause collapse. A glance of the eye elsewhere but straight ahead or slump of the shoulder were cause for further attacks. At least there were other people groaning besides ...