especially when it came to Corby. Corby, however, was adapting to the attention remarkably well. Em had not seem him flinch in over two hours.
Mercifully, they were led to the chow hall at eleven forty-five. The last thing Cannon said, and the only thing he did not scream, was “Relax, boys. Enjoy your meal.” All of them doubted they were going to get to enjoy their meal. Throughout the entire morning, they were not permitted to speak to one another. Each of them knew very little about any of the others. Column 4 was allowed to be first in line, so Em was seated at one of the first tables. Jackson Turner sat in the seat next to him. Aside from Larry and Corby, Jackson was the only other person he knew by first name.
“Hey, Jackson. You think the rest of these guys will ever learn to walk?” Em began the conversation. He had noticed that Jackson, as the front man in column 4, had no trouble marching in unison.
“That poor Cook guy ain’t got a chance,” Jackson said. “I’m glad I’m not in his shoes.”
The conversation did not continue. It seemed both of them realized just how hungry they were. Em also doubted that they would be given much time to eat. The marching had made them hungrier than they could have imagined. Just as Em was shoveling the last bite of meat product they were eating, he saw Corby going through the line. Once again, he had the attention of a couple of sergeants. It was as if he were a magnet, the way they were attracted to him. Corby was taking it well. He filled his plate and sat down at the first table he came to. He grabbed his fork and scooped a pile of potatoes. Like a moth to a flame, Cannon materialized out of nowhere and knocked Corby’s fork from his hand. “You think we got all day, Cookie? Get on back out there and form them up. Keep them at attention!” Then he whispered something in Corby’s ear and walked back to his table.
Corby did not hesitate and never tried to take another bite. He simply arose from the table and started to survey the room. What he did next took the entire room by surprise. He went table to table ordering everyone outside. Some had eaten nothing at all. Em was totally surprised that Corby took control of the situation. He took it in stride and made the best of it. Once the room was empty and everyone was outside, Corby formed them up the same as they were previously. Once they were lined up and at attention, he never said another word. From then on, everyone was comfortable with Corby hogging the attention. Em could see the looks on some of the faces, and none of them was at all envious. From Em’s position near the front of the formation, he could see that everyone was doing his best to remain perfectly still. He assumed that things were the same behind him.
When Sergeant Cannon finally emerged through the chow hall doors, twenty minutes later, strolling along casually, with a toothpick dangling between his lips, he looked in one direction only, front left. For the first time since he arrived, Em saw a look on Cannon’s face that did not seem menacing. In fact, it almost looked as though he wanted to smile. The look vanished as quickly as it had appeared. He once again started to scream. Corby was obviously his target.
The rest of the day was much like the first half. No matter who was making the mistake, it was somehow linked to Corby’s inability to lead the formation. However, the mistakes were becoming fewer and fewer. They were becoming a qualified marching unit. After four more hours and two rainstorms, they could make it around the entire flight line with minimal mistakes. Some of the weaker guys would fall out of formation from time to time. This was not to their benefit. Instead of getting to recover, they were pushed to their limit. This brought tears to some of the men. As punishment for falling out of formation, they were made to run in place until they threw up. When Sergeant Cannon thought that someone dropped out for any other reason than exhaustion, he made them run circles around the entire flight while the marching continued.
They were finally led back to the barracks, two hours after dark. Each of them was given two minutes to shower. They were not to attempt to shave or clean their teeth. Cannon had informed them that they would need special instructions on those tasks. After their shower, they would assemble in the room opposite of Cannon’s office. Before he had entered his office, he shouted, “Clean the stink off and get in there and sit down. And don’t talk!”
Sergeant Cannon began his speech with an insult. “You look like a bunch of worms.” Instructions were given on various things. Polishing boots, ironing underwear, standing in line, facing forward even! Every sentence from his mouth started to blend together. Em saw several of the others’ heads droop occasionally. He reminded himself to stay awake and pay attention. Sitting on the cold floor, in their underwear, did not seem to be keeping anyone awake. It was close to eleven o’clock in the evening, and Em knew that reveille would be before four thirty in the morning. The next thing Cannon did was to assign special duties. He asked for volunteers for chow runners. He looked at each one of them, staring straight into each set of eyes. “I understand if no one wants to volunteer, but I’m telling you, if I have to assign these positions, it will not be as pleasant!”
Em knew that this was some kind of trick. His uncle had told him, “No matter what, don’t volunteer for anything.” He remembered every word. He also remembered telling Corby the same thing. When Corby spoke, as if on cue, it did not surprise Em at all.
“I volunteer, Sergeant Cannon.” Em only moved his eyes to look at Corby. He saw that Corby was starting to rise.
“What are you doing, Cookie? Nobody told you to get up!” Corby dropped back onto the floor. Sergeant Cannon did not miss a beat. “Get back up now! You want to be a chow runner? You better get started on your training!”
The only thought that kept repeating itself inside Em’s head was “Don’t he ever get tired?” He had been with them since before the sun came up. He had screamed all day. He simply had to be as tired as the rest of them. The funny thing was, he did not look at all tired. Even though he still had on the same uniform as he had been wearing at four thirty in the morning, it was as crisp and clean now as it was then.
Corby stood at attention, in his underwear, while Cannon rattled off his new list of duties. Em thought that chow runner sounded rather simple. All Corby had to do was stand in line for the chow hall. He would stand in line in place of the whole flight. (“Flight” was the new designation for a formation of fifty airmen.) When their flight was ready for meals, Corby was to leave the flight and make his was to the chow hall and reserve their flight’s spot. Em noticed that Corby looked like he was starting to relax. After all, it sounded like a rather simple duty. Em did not understand that new recruits trying to cross an air base unsupervised drew attention. Daily confrontations would confront Corby as long as he held this prestigious position.
Em thought that Sergeant Cannon had really lost his mind when he yelled one more time. “I think we better get started on that training! Never know when I’ll get hungry!” Sergeant Cannon sent Corby, in his underwear, to the chow hall to see if it was open. Corby sprinted out the door like a rabbit. Em remembered how cold it was. Springtime in Texas produced some cold nights. Before Cannon had a chance to finish his next rant, Corby burst back into the room. He slid to a halt and started to open his mouth. Cannon stopped him and screamed, “Cookie! I don’t think that was fast enough! See if you can make it a little quicker this time. Go!”
Corby jumped backward and was out the door in a wink. Cannon turned and faced the rest of them. “Who wants to be his assistant?” Needless to say, all eyes went straight to the floor. There would be no volunteers to be Corby’s friend. Before Cannon could say another word, Corby was back and covered with sweat. Sergeant Cannon just told him to remain at attention at the door. He forced a laugh when he said, “I might get hungry, Cookie. You just be ready to go.”
Cannon assigned several other duties. It seemed that Cannon thought that squad leaders were the most important even though they had the fewest duties. He picked the biggest and strongest-looking guys for the four squad leaders. Six “lucky” guys received latrine duty. Several moans were heard in the room, and Sergeant Cannon just smiled. These guys thought they had just gotten the worst job possible. The latrine was expected to be in “inspection order,” twenty-four hours a day. No one volunteered for anything. Em found himself on the laundry crew. He had even secured the coveted “leader” position. He was ultimately responsible for the laundry. The other three on his crew were to be his responsibility.