When I and the other new recruits arrived for basic training at Lackland Air Force Base in Texas, we were referred to as “rainbows”. This was due to the fact that, while everyone else on the base was wearing the same camouflage uniforms, we were all still wearing civilian clothes.
It was our first lesson in how to survive basic training: Don’t be different.
Our civilian clothes were essentially big, colorful signs that said, “Please yell at me, I’m new here.” Basic training instructors are not people who need much encouragement in that area. It seemed like everyone on the base took time out of his or her busy schedule to accommodate us on that first day.
We weren’t carrying our luggage properly, we needed haircuts, we were bad dressers, we didn’t know how to march, we were funny looking, we didn’t know our left from our right, we sweated too much, we were breathing too loudly, we needed to shut up, we were too tall, too short, too skinny, too fat, and we were daring to look people in the eye. Essentially, they wanted us to know that we were a bunch of worthless maggots who would never make good airmen.
It was a long day, but the sun finally tired of watching us get chewed out. It snuck behind the horizon and darkness mercifully fell on Lackland AFB.
We were herded into the dayroom of our dormitory and told to wait. We sat in the air-conditioned room and waited, each of us now quietly hating our sweaty, salty, wrinkled civilian attire.
Our Technical Instructor (TI) came into the room and commanded us all to remove our shirts.
We were then assigned positions of leadership in our flight (like a platoon, but for the Air Force) based upon our individual levels of fitness. The guy who was in the best shape was anointed the flight leader. Four guys who were slightly less fit than the flight leader were named squad leaders.
I was designated as one of 4 road guards. To put it politely, road guards were the unfortunate people who needed a little extra attention in the area of physical fitness.
Whenever the flight marched anywhere, there would be two road guards in front of the formation and two road guards behind it. The job of the road guard was to stop traffic at any cross street that the flight happened to pass while marching. We were the members of the flight that the TI was most willing to throw in front of moving cars.
The next morning, before the flight was to get our uniforms and haircuts, we enjoyed a lovely breakfast at the dining hall. In the dining hall, it was necessary for all trainees to walk past the table full of instructors, known as the “snake pit”.
I was walking past the snake pit with a group of my fellow rainbows, when one of the instructors shouted “HEY RAINBOW!” at us. One of the rainbows that had been designated as a squad leader turned to look at the instructor.
He actually asked, “Who, me?” Just like that, he had been designated as the instructors’ breakfast entertainment.
When they were finished with my friend the squad leader, his tray was on the floor, his food was on his shirt, and he was busy saluting a wall in the corner of the room.
It was at that moment that I knew I would be able to finish basic training. I may have been a rainbow and a road guard, but I certainly knew enough not to look up when an instructor was fishing for someone to yell at.
