Trooper Down! by Marie Bartlett Page B

anything for you, either. I didn’t send thoseacceptance letters to you—headquarters did. The only way you’re gonna earn my respect, and the respect of your peers, is through a four-letter word. It’s called
work. 
If you’re not familiar with the term, you’ll soon learn it. ’Cause we’re gonna work you from five every morning till ten every night. My suggestion is that you take it one hour at a time. And you just might, by the grace of God, make it.”
    Trooper Tommy Cheek, whose finely chiseled features are now sternly set, goes over the list of do’s and don’ts.
    â€œI don’t want to see water, hair, shaving cream, or anything else in the dormitory sinks. Keep all towels out of sight. Dry all water spots on the hardware. Don’t use the soap that’s on display. Clothes are to be hung with shirts buttoned, sleeves across the chest. Shoes are to be polished, with laces tied. Dresser drawers are pulled out six inches for display, with all items secured by tape so that nothing rolls around.
    â€œAnd woe be unto the first one who squirrels M&Ms in the ceiling or sets his alarm for 3:00 A.M.  to sneak across campus for a Coke! If one messes up, you
all 
pay.
    â€œLine sergeants will be coming on campus for in-service training and they’ll be eyeballing you,” he continues. “Their first questions are gonna be, ‘How are they doing? Who’s the sharpest? How many have you lost?’
    â€œYou are reflecting us, so you better not let us down.
    â€œCrosby!” 
Cheek suddenly barks at a sleepy-looking cadet. “If you don’t open those eyes, I’m gonna come back there and open them for you! If you think I’m standing up here just to hear myself talk, you’re mistaken! And get your arm off that prop. There won’t be
any 
propping in here!”
    â€œWe’re gonna get you like you’re
supposed 
to be,” Sergeant Oliver cuts in, “and that means no squared-off, jitterbugged haircuts, no beards, no mustaches. Sideburns will be rectangular in shape, with hair no longer than the top of your collar. That goes for you women too.
    â€œIf you forgot something at home, that’s your problem. We told you what to bring. Phones are off limits till Monday. You’ll be too busy for that. We’ll have daily devotions in class. If anyone is opposed to that, you can sit quietly on the steps at the back door. Sinus headaches, sore muscles, ingrown toenails, stomach cramps are
not 
gonna get you out of physical training. And God help you if we thinkyou’re trying to sandbag us. You’ll get a rude awakening when your butt lands on the floor. We’ll assist you if you have problems. But don’t try to pull any wool over our eyes.”
    Later that day, a cadet is caught smoking and has to run two miles while puffing on a cigarette. Another is found sitting down when he should have been cleaning his room. For punishment, the entire squadron of cadets is sent outside to perform a hundred push-ups.
    By the next morning, two cadets have resigned.
    â€œSergeant,” one says mournfully, “I woke up this morning and couldn’t see no mountains. I’ve got to go home.”
    Before the week is out, others will follow. The average dropout rate is five to ten cadets during the first two weeks.
    â€œThere’s a tremendous adjustment required in the beginning,” explained Sergeant Oliver, whose harsh manner is artificially induced. Away from his charges, he is a pleasant, easy-going man.
    â€œFor some of these young people, cadet school is almost like culture shock. They’ve never been exposed to anything like it. About the second week, they become acclimated and the rules and regulations begin to make sense to them. For instance, when they undergo physical training each morning, I make them look at the instructor because when they’re out on patrol and stop