Chapter Twelve- SMA: The Daily Grind

Many of my reader have asked: "This is all well and good, but what was daily life like for the average cadet? Not a weirdo like you, a normal guy..."



A Day in the Life At Staunton Military Academy









6:35 AM: Reveille. First a klaxon bell rings loud and long enough to wake the dead, then one of the buglers from Band Company has to get up and walk to strategic points at each barracks. There, he blows the traditional Reveille call. Then he loudly announces the Uniform of the Day. One of the more colorful buglers we had was J.M. Cooke, affectionately known as "Z", for the many zits upon his face. Our normal daily uniform was Alpha, as shown. Gray shirt, Gray pants with a black stripe down either side, soft cap, and black tie tucked into the shirt below the second button. And if you felt insecure at formation you could just hold hands. Great camaraderie there. So you had about 15 minutes to get dressed and get your sorry butt up onto the Asphalt to form up with your Company. In my day we had four main Companies: Alpha, Bravo, Charlie and Delta. The Band was its own Company. Then there was Headquarters, for guys like the the Battalion Staff, Color Guard, Medic Aides and Commandant's Aide. Last of all were the Junior Schoolers, 6th through 8th grade, called Foxrtot Company.

No matter the weather, from 95 degrees and 90% humidity to freezing in the dark and snow, we were out there in military lines while the Color Guard hoisted Old Glory up the flagpole to the strains of Call to Colors. Then we all marched into the Mess Hall by company. Each month an Honor Company was named, and they got to march into the Hall first and eat first.

7:00 - 8:00: First Mess. We had good old American food, along with some Southern delicacies. We served buffet-style, grabbing a metal food tray and utensils and digging in. There was ham, scrambled eggs, hash browns, milk, juice, coffee, cereals (In those little individual serving boxes. It was against the rules to take food from the Mess Hall, but those little guys were gold when the munchies hit), bacon, grits and scrapple. Grits are basically Cream of Wheat; they taste like whatever you put on them: hot sauce, sugar, salt, butter. Scrapple was..unique.

8:10 - 2:10: Classes. Our subjects were the same required courses all students needed to graduate from high school in Virginia. The only courses unique to our type of school were the Military Sciences classes. That's where we learned to be good little soldiers. Our instructors were regular Army "lifer" sergeants, who taught us classes like Weapons and Rifle Squad Tactics, Health and Safety, Personal Hygiene, and Military History. Not only was this class an easy "A", if you got a 90% or better score you also got a certificate in that discipline. No big deal to us, but it was a nice present for the folks back home. Classes were typically small. I had a Spanish IV class with three other guys. The largest classes might be 12-15 cadets. Made for some great one on one learning.

While we were in class, a Military Department officer would come to our rooms for Daily Inspection. Each cadet was rated on how neat his room was, right down to the dust over his door and the polish on his drill boots and how clean his rifle was. Each cadet had an M1903 Springfield 30 caliber rifle, just like Sgt. York used in WWI. (No firing pin) We had an open dresser, called a "Press", that showed our shirts and whatnot, and they all had to be folded just so. We got a little note card indicating whether the room was Superior, Good, Fair or Poor. Based on this we got Merits (good points) or Demerits (I already told you about them...bad).

11:45 or so: Second Mess. Form up. March in. Eat. Go back to class.

2:30- 3:30: Drill. Form up. March down to the Track. March around and do Column Lefts and Right Face and Eyes Front and all that Army jazz. One day as we marched back up the Hill our platoon leader started a chant:

Call: "What's the word?"

Response: "Thunderbird!"

"What's the price?"

"Thirty twice!"

"Howdaya drink it?"

"Out of a cup!"

"Whattas it get you?"

"ALL FUCKED UP!"

"Sound off!"

"ONE TWO"

Sound off!"

"THREE FOUR"

"Bring it on down!"

"ONE TWO THREE FOUR ONE TWO............THREE FOUR!"

Yeah, he got in a bit of trouble for that one, but it was cool to do it so enthusiastically.

3:30 - 6:00: Monday, Wednesday and Thursday we stayed on campus and did intramural sports, study, varsity sports, goofing off, going to the school Canteen (snack bar), or getting extra help from teachers. Tuesday afternoons we were allowed to go downtown, if your name wasn't on the Beat Squad list. If so, it was even more marching, raking leaves, cleaning toilets or whatever else made you regret being alive. On Fridays Third Mess was often optional, so we could go downtown and eat at the Tack House or go to stores or visit the girls at Stuart Hall. Sometimes a select few of us would take our illicit sacramental herbs and steal off into the countryside. More on that later. Oh, and interacting with the townsfolk. Definitely a treat. Carloads of drunken hicks sideswiping us as we walked by the side of the road, the call of "Bellhops!" (because of our uniforms, get it?) and a can or bottle thrown at us. I get misty eyed just thinkin' about it.

6:00: Third Mess. Form up and listen to the daily announcements: Upcoming events, an address by the Commandant, and sometimes Special Orders. A Special Order was issued by the Commandant when a cadet had greatly transgressed the Rules of Conduct. 95% of the time a Special Order meant expulsion from the Academy. By the time it was read the poor bastard was probably already gone. Ben Alexander had barely left school when his S.O. was read. Then we all marched off to dinner.

A couple of things about dinners there still stick with me. Fried Chicken Night. Man, that was some seriously good chicken. Most nights a cadet could go back for seconds if there was food left, but on Fried Chicken Night the servers made sure there were no second helpings available. The leader of the servers was a big, black man named Chick. He called everyone "Buddy".

"More chicken please, Chick?"

"Sorry, Buddy, no chicken."

You could clearly see trays of chicken in the kitchen area, covered with cloth. Hmmm. One night I was in the Commandant's waiting area and I saw Chick pull his car up to the kitchen loading dock and put a huge plastic bag of chicken into it. I realized that these guys probably made shit pay serving these little rich boys, and the chicken was the closest thing to a bonus they would ever get.

The other weird thing at Third Mess. Sunday was the day we always wore our dress uniform, called Charlie, to dinner. It featured a white shirt and white trousers. And Sunday night dinner was always spaghetti. Tell me the logic behind that.

Occasionally a very large percentage of the Corps would come down with the "runs" all at once. This was never traced back to the food and who knows? We might have been the subjects of mass poisonings by the Army. Could happen.

7:10: Call to quarters. Study time in our rooms. If a cadet was in some academic trouble, (me), he had to go to supervised Study Hall, where a proctor would confirm the homework and make sure it all got done that night. Everyone else had to sit at their desks and be actively doing something academic. Minimal conversation allowed between roommates. No music. No visiting. No bathroom breaks unless by special permission. In warm weather we had to keep our doors open, so the faculty officer on duty could come into our rooms and observe and ask questions about our studies. We had a ten minute break signaled by a bell, and there was always a mad scramble for the bathrooms. Then back to study until 9:40.

9:40 - 10:00: Preparing for lights out. Brush teeth, change into jammies (shorts & t-shirt), visit briefly with buddies.

10:00: Lights Out. Doors closed. No talking. No music. And the soft strains of Taps. Seniors were allowed one extra hour of study until 11:00, and we needed it.

That was the typical weekday.

On Saturdays the day started the same, but after First Mess we had weekly inspection. Time to really scrub out the room and polish the floor. Some guys used this concoction called Bowling Alley Wax. It's a thick paste that had to be lit on fire, melted down and spread over the ancient linoleum. Then it was buffed to a brilliant shine. I stuck with Mop N Glo. Cheaper and safer. I don't think anyone has ever nearly burned down a private school with Mop N Glo.

What the hell are you talking about?

Patience.

After room inspection we were free for the day. Sports, town, memorizing porn, whatever floated your boat. And of course bad little boys got Beat Squad. Used to love walking by those guys on the way downtown: "So long, suckers!" "Fuck you!" they would cheerfully call back.

Sunday was Church Day. Our owner, Layne Loeffler, wanted SMA to be known as a Christian military academy. We would form up after First Mess and then break off into our Church Squads. In my first year I dutifully trooped off with the Roman Catholics to go to Saint Francis. An incredibly ornate place for such a cow town, I became discouraged with it after a run in with one of the priests. He wanted me to sit down with the cadets and I had been ordered to stand in the back and supervise them. I told him I would not sit and he told me to leave the church and never come back. Which I did.

What denomination to choose? After casting around a bit I fell in with the Presbyterians. The coolest thing about them was that all the folks at First Pres were really happy to see us when we chose to come. They offered us cake and tea and asked us about ourselves. Nice. If we chose not to go, we would hang out at Woodrow Wilson' Birthplace, conveniently located out the back door. We'd sit and smoke cigarettes, enjoy the weather and get back to school when "service" was over. A damn sight more relaxing than "Stand up, sit down, kneel and feel guilty."

Sunday afternoon we donned our dress uniform and showed off the marching skills we'd been practicing all week. This was the Sunday Parade. Man, we did a lot of marching. That's the Army for you, a bunch of guys sweating with rifles on their shoulders going nowhere.



Sunday night we were back in quarters, doing homework and readying ourselves for the week to come.

Lucky Chapter 13: These are a few of my favorite folks