Chapter Nine- SMA: The Sun'll Come Out...

Over Christmas I saw Dianne only once. It was clear to me now that we had been drifting apart even before I went away, and now she made it official. We were "OK to be seeing other people." This was an announcement, not a question. Maintaining a girlfriend was going to be tough anyway. Yeah, I was better off. For sure.



Darkest Before the Dawn

The first two weeks back from Christmas break felt like descending to the Outer Ring of the Seventh Circle of Hell. Well rested from their break, Alexander, Ratcliff and the other morons got on me worse than before. I had failed Algebra II first semester and would have to repeat it. Other new cadets were getting promoted and I felt pretty much abandoned by anyone in my life who mattered. Including God. I'd been skeptical enough even though I had been raised Roman Catholic and had First Communion and Confirmation. Classes sucked, the people were irrelevant and the cold walls were closing in. That was it. I left my room one night after Third Mess (Dinner) and went to the pay phone at North Barracks. I called home and when Mom answered and began to break down in tears.

"I want to go home, Mom. I can't take it any more. I'll do anything you want, just come and get me out of here."

I can't remember exactly what she said, but it was a tender mother and son moment. I needed to hear a sympathetic voice and she came through. After I had composed myself she told me she would talk to Dad and see what we could do. I felt better after that, though as I walked back across the Asphalt I felt oddly disconnected from the scene, more like an observer than a participant. I heard Alexander's voice booming from South Barracks, shouting "Newww-beginnnn", in his Southern drawl. All I could think was "Hmm, a talking building."

The night passed and in the morning I felt a weight off my shoulders. I can clearly remember being in Major Johnson's history class, listening to his daily dissertation on the Depression, when a fellow cadet named Chuck Pfarrer came to the classroom door, in his capacity as a Guard, to tell me I had a visitor. I followed Chuck up to the Asphalt where I was directed to my Dad's car, parked on the far side. Here it was, just before lunch on a Monday, and Dad had driven all the way out to SMA to see me. I didn't know what to think. Was I going home?

Dad got out as I approached and I tried to read his expression. He quietly said "Get in, son". I sat in the passenger side and closed the door. He got in and we both sat there in silence for a moment. Then he said: "Your Mom tells me you are very unhappy here. Is that true?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

I was nearly 17, and two different kind of responses warred within me. I wanted to lash out, to say I'd been treated unfairly and didn't deserve to be sent away. That it was all his fault for years of physical and mental abuse. The other side wanted to tell another truth, the one more immediate to my concern. I started with the first day and unloaded the whole story, complete with the jerks I'd had to put up with. When I was all talked out, he seemed to be lost in thought. He and Uncle Bob had also been sent to military school before going to the Naval Academy. Was his mind going over some of those memories? He began speaking to me, not like the Dad I thought I knew, but as somebody who understood all I had been through. As we both talked, the Corps of Cadets formed up on the Asphalt, read announcements and marched off to Second Mess. Over the course of those few hours he instilled in me a resolve to identify what was causing me the most problems and deal with them bravely. He told me that if I would promise to do that and things didn't change by Spring, I could come home. It didn't take much thought for me to know I had an opportunity to do something right after all the crap I'd been through. We had a deal. We shook hands on it, literally. Dad just wasn't a hugging kind of guy. No matter. I got out of the car and watched him drive away, then I went down the steps into the mess hall to get some food. I was starving, but my head was clearer than it had been in a long time.

Ya Gotta Have Friends

With the New Year came some other changes. I had a squad leader named Duncan Smiley, and he was another minor bad actor in my Passion Play. One day, during a routine room inspection, the faculty officer found a fifth of vodka in his dresser and just like that he was booted out of school. I was shuffled to another squad and my new boss was Sgt. Pete Bantz. He was a New Yorker and had been at SMA long enough to know how things worked. He took a personal interest in making sure I didn't screw up any more, meaning he kicked my ass and didn't let me feel sorry for myself. His tough but fair approach was one of the elements I'd been lacking, and it started the process. This guy ended up being my Best Man and I named my first kid after him, but that's all for a future chapter.

A couple of new cadets joined A Company at mid year as well. Andy Blythe was a visitor from Neptune who came to SMA disguised as a Kansas boy with a fascination for Janis Joplin. Boots Shelton was a creative and insightful guy and ended up being our official photographer. At first, the little creeps I've mentioned earlier tried to give them the same old story about me, but day by day they could both see I was something of a kindred spirit. I sensed a circle of friends was developing. But there were still obstacles to be overcome. It was time to pull the plug on Ben Alexander.

Reckoning

Bearing in mind what Dad had told me, I wasn't going to take the crap any more. One day while Alexander was out I searched through his locker and found all the things he'd stolen, including a medal I'd won in a "Best Drilled Squad" competition. It had my name right on the back. A lot of other stuff had cadet names on them as well. This was it. Time to call in the big guns.

I went down to my company commander's room. Coincidentally, both of the platoon commanders were there as well. I told them what I'd found and they told me to go back to my room and wait. It was Saturday inspection, and we all had to do a thorough cleaning of our rooms before being released for the day. I was scrubbing away at the floor, trying to look casual while my heart was racing a mile a minute. Man, where are those guys? Are they just going to shine me on? I kept looking for little tasks to do while Alexander busied himself pulling the wings off flies or something. Tick. Tick. Tick. Cold sweat under my shirt. Then, here they came: Captain Steve Crane, Lieutenant Gene Ehman and Lieutenant Julian Lake, their shoes clicking authoritatively on the wooden walkway. Crane walked into the room, directly up to Alexander and said: "Open the trunk".

It was the first time I had seen a person literally turn white with fear. I thought my own heart was going to burst out of my ribs it was pounding so hard. "Why?" he said, in a small, squeaky voice.

"Just open it!"

There's a scene from National Treasure where they finally break through into the final chamber, revealing more than they even dreamed of. When I saw it I was reminded of the expressions on the faces of the three officers. "What is all this stuff?" said Crane. He picked up my medal. "Hey, that's mine!" I said. Alexander and his trunk of loot were taken down to Crane's room and he was interrogated. A while later we all met in the study hall room and held kangaroo court. It was mostly for A Company cadets, but other guys whose stuff was in there testified as well. That's when I found out just how many guys he had ripped off. It was staggering. After Ratcliff argued to keep him in school and Alexander pleaded for mercy we went to a vote. There went the blood pressure again. A vote? I couldn't imagine how he could be kept among us after betraying a trust so important to the Corps. I needn't have been so worried. The vote was overwhelming to turn him over to the Commandant for expulsion. A curious thing about the vote: Somebody cast an abstaining vote, and everyone thought it was me because I was his roommate. To this day I thank that selfless person. It took all the heat off me. Alexander was packed and picked up that night by his Mom. Adios, muchacho.

Classes were starting to make some sense. I was actually getting it in Algebra II. My English teacher, Lt. Greenwood, saw me less as a slacker and more as an abstract thinker. Spring was in the air. And I got promoted to corporal. It was getting better all the time. I had to admit.

Better, better, behhhter.....