Tender Mercies of Officer Training

COT training was like nothing I have ever experienced.  At 35 years old I thought I was pretty set in my ways but after this experience I truly believe that I was meant to be placed in this situation to show me my potential. Anyone who knows me knows that I am pretty laid-back and non-confrontational.  The environment at COT pushed me and tested me in all things that cause discomfort and growth.   After the first day, given the opportunity, I would have hopped on a bus and headed back home but that was not an option.  

An innocent appearing school bus picked us up at the airport and took us to Maxwell AFB.  If I had know what lay ahead I would have been kicking and screaming and clawing at the emergency exit as we passed through the security gate. As it was in my ignorant state I watched out the window as we were waved through the checkpoint.  The bus pulled up to a four story building and we were instructed to get out and set our bags on the sidewalk and head around to the back of the building.  My sense of self preservation should have been all a buzz but again I was oblivious.  I kept my backpack on because it contained my laptop and personal documentation and figured I aught to keep an eye on it.  I figured wrong.  No sooner had I cleared the back of the building when a piercing booming voice yelled ,"What about leave your bags on the sidewalk did you not understand!" A short but fierce looking female drill sergeant came striding up to me and within centimeters of my ear drums told me to go back around the building and leave my bag on the sidewalk. The childhood images of Satan as a forked tailed horned beast soon began to morph into something resembling the drill sergeant.

We were herded like cattle through line after line having people demand information from us while other people are yelling at you for something else. "Walk up to the blue line!" "Up to not on top of the blue line!" Don't you look down, eyes straight ahead?" Simple things like remembering your name and which direction is right or left became impossible.  My heart was hammering against my ribs and it was all I could do to keep breathing.  The ensuing hours are now a blur but I remember being issued a jacket, camelback and a room key and was then told to go and set up my room.  Finally a break from the yelling. I found my way up to my room and closed the door behind me.  I had not the strength or emotional energy to cry or scream, I just sat on my bed and starred at the wall.  I wondered what I was doing here, how a nice guy like me could end up in a hell hole like this.  In the depth of my pity party I became aware of someone else entering the room.  A tall thin young man entered with the same glazed over look that I am sure I had on.  I introduced myself and asked his name. Ryan West.  When I told him I was from Utah a small smile broke his lips and he asked if I was LDS. I told him that I was and he said that he was as well.  This was the first tender mercy.  I had been told that there were usually quite a few members of the church at COT but in our class of nearly 150 there were 4 of us and one of them happened to be my roommate.

The 150 new officers were broken up into small groups of 15, called a flight. We were given a military alphabet name like alpha, bravo, charlie.  I was placed in Golf Flight.  Three flights together formed a squadron. Our class had three squadrons; griffins, guardians, and falcons. I was in the Griffin Squadron. For the first two days we marched together as a squadron and were assigned the mean little drill sergeant as our instructor. I have never been super coordinated or been able to follow a beat very well.  Marching combined all these weaknesses and then added a horrible mean voice right next to you when ever you messed up.  It seemed as though she was never very far away from me and anytime I pivoted on the wrong foot or got out of step she was right on me.  Despite the consistent instruction to keep your eyes forward and to not look down at your feet I continued to watch others to make sure I was in step.  I was so freaked out about screwing up that ensured that I screwed up. Instead of turning left I turned right, instead of haulting I kept marching. I was terrible. The entire group would get reprimanded for my mistakes which compounded my anxiety and propelled my performance to even lower levels.

On the second night after we got back to our rooms after a full day of marching and yelling I was at my wits end. I had sat by a young lady at dinner that was white as a sheet.  I watched her take a bite of food and chew it slowly. She then burst into tears and stood up.  She took a few steps and then seemed paralyzed in place.  I had the image of her pale face and expression seared into my mind and it caused a worsening of my anxiety.  I looked over at my roommate and asked him if he would give me a blessing. He did so and I was able to sleep soundly for the first time in two days. The next morning we lined up for drill practice.  I felt remarkably calm.  We began marching as usual but this time I listened to the words of our drill sergeant. I focused on the back of the head of the person in front of me and just listened. I felt calm for the first time and was able to feel the cadence and follow the commands, I was marching. Having a worthy priesthood holder give me a blessing and learning to march was tender mercy #2.  The following day we were told we would no longer be marching as a squadron but that we would have to march as a flight.  We were to meet our flight commander later on that day and everyone alluded to how scary of an experience that was going to be and I was not looking forward to it.  The hour rolled around and we were sent to our flight room where we awaited the arrival of our commander. The door burst open and the room was called to attention.  Our flight commander strode around the room inspecting our uniforms. My roommate and I had spent a lot of time clipping strings off of our uniforms so that they looked immaculate.  Capt Ah Loy, our flight commander, criticized the poor state of the uniforms of each member of our flight handing out demerits as he went around.  He stopped in front of my roommate and could not find anything out of place. He then criticized him for not telling everyone else how to make their uniform as good as his and told both of us that we had failed. We did not know what that meant but figured it was not good.  Later we had to go formally present ourselves to him up in his office and have a personal interview of sorts.  When it was my turn I had the wording of what I needed to say in my mind but messed it up once I arrived.  Exasperated I let out a frustrated chuckle which is never a good idea.  For five minutes I was berated for my lack of professionalism and was told that I had already gotten on his bad side. Great, I thought, that is the last thing I needed.

It did not take long however to realize that Capt Ah Loy had to try to be mean. There were other flight commanders who were professional at being mean.  You could hear them yelling through closed doors on the other end of the building.  During lectures it became apparent the Capt Ah Loy was also LDS.  He used phrases like return with honor and don't run faster than you are able and told us that he attended BYU and worked at the Polynesian Cultural Center in Hawaii.  Having a flight commander that was not super mean and understood me was tender mercy #3.

My first Sunday my roommate and I went to church off base.  It was awesome to get out of the stressful atmosphere of COT and go some place that I felt safe.  As we walked into the church building a missionary couple greeted us. They introduced themselves as Elder and Sister Blau.  Sister Blau gave us both a huge hug. I am sure she will never know what it meant to me to receive a hug in that stressful time but that in and of itself was tender mercy #4.  The Blaus were angels and helped us countless times.  The drove us to stake conference when the base shuttle would not take us. They took my roommates glasses to get fixed and even drove us to the Birmingham Temple and took us to dinner.

That first Sunday was Fast Sunday.  There was an incredible spirit among those Alabama saints.  I felt the spirit testify to my heart that I need to be  at COT and in the Air Force.  I knew that these experiences would be for my good.  A great overwhelming peace came over me and I was filled with gratitude for the Savior.  The ward in Alabama was tender mercy #5.

There were some fun things that we did at COT but it was never a picnic.  I learned a lot about myself and about the sacrifice that members of the military willingly make.  I appreciate more the cost of freedom and understand better the wonderful land that we live in. 

I know that the images I have posted have little to do with the story that I told but I wanted to write down for my posterity the tender mercies that I experienced while learning to be an officer in the United States Air Force.