Bring Me Men (and Notsocranky), Part 1

Okay, so maybe it's because I'm about to turn 40, but I though it would be fun to write about my USAF Academy experience.

Ever since I was about 12 years old, I wanted to be a pilot.* My mother recalls my 7th grade proclamation, "I am not going to college, I'm going to be a pilot!" I soon discovered that I needed to go to college to be an Air Force pilot. My aunt who lived in Colorado Springs told my mother about the Air Force Academy located there. Mom sent for the catalog and I read it cover to cover. It sounded like a great place.**

I am the youngest of four daughters. For the first 18 years of my life I was "following in my sisters' footsteps". My mother knew everything about everything that came up -- "when your sister was in school..." etc. I was tired of hearing that so decided I wouldn't go to any college my 3 sisters had attended. The Air Force Academy (USAFA) sounded better and better. It was far away from home (NH), it was a great school and probably most important, offered a way for me to become a pilot. I managed to get an appointment*** and off to Colorado I went in the summer of 1984 for Basic Cadet Training (BCT, or "beast" as it was called).

Wow, what an adventure! Kids from all over the country, beautiful Colorado scenery and of course, the military stuff. **** I quickly learned how to march, but always had a hard time keeping a straight face while being "trained" (translation: being yelled at) by the upperclass cadets. The only "down time" I managed to get during BCT was to skip chapel. No problem. I'd been dragged to Catholic mass my whole life by my mother and was happy to be free of that as well. I had 45 minutes or so of peace and quiet in my room, which was probably the best thing for me.

That first summer was rather busy. There was early morning PT, marching, memorizing, and many other activities, but probably the hardest training event was the Assault Course. We low-crawled under barbed-wire fence, climbed over/through/around obstacles, all while being yelled at for added stress. We also learned how to fight with a bayonet on our rifle.



At the end we had pugil stick fighting. Here are the guys going at it:



We had a squadron pugil stick competition to see who would be the "Big Bad Basic". I was in "A" flight and I managed to beat the other girls in "A" and "B" flights. So for the title, I had to go up against the winner of the "C" and "D" flights, who happened to be a big, tall volleyball recruit named Andrea.***** I knew at only 5'4", 105 lbs., I was going to be pummeled. I put up a good fight, but had a hard time overcoming her tremendous "reach" advantage. I lost but enjoyed the competition anyway.

(This post has been amended to add this picture of me. I didn't know whether to look tough or smile.)


In the middle of the summer, I got word from home that my grandmother had died. She had been one of only 2 grandparents alive during my life and it was a huge loss. A lifelong smoker, she had succumbed to emphysema after a lengthy hospital stay. My parents and I decided I should stay in Colorado and continue with my training. I'm sure it helped me to be so busy during that difficult time.

When the summer ended, I was no longer a Basic Cadet, I was a Cadet Fourth Class. The school year brought still more challenges for this small town girl.



* I had not ever been in an airplane and would not have the opportunity until I was 17 years old.

** I wanted to do the skydiving. I knew it would be fun and would also freak out my mother.

*** I also had an appointment to West Point, but wanted to fly. I was the first person from my town to go to one of the Military Academies.

**** Other than my uncle Jim, nobody in my family had been in the military. My grandfather had been a translator in WWII, but as a civilian.

*****Andrea is now a Northwest Airlines pilot.