Four Long Years of Shock and Awesome Growth, USNA 1969 - 1973: PLEBE SUMMER

How do we learn about life?  How do we learn enough to be able to successfully navigate and traverse through the daily challenges and obstacles of life?  In most advanced countries there is a "school" system where you learn to read the native language in the elementary, early years and begin to understand the complexities of the native language.  We learn the basics of math too, counting, adding, subtracting, and the complex systems of multiplication and division.  Science may be part of the study, social studies or history, some music, some art or drawing or expression of art, play time or physical education.  Many different systems have been developed with increasing progression bringing increasing complexity and depth of study as the child matures through elementary, goes into the transition in the middle grades and finally, there is supposed to be the preparation for adult years in high school.  I contend that except for the reading and basic math, most of the "education" I received in my 10 years in Danville was wasted, irrelevant, and useless.  



What I needed was to know HOW not the What.  I was never taught to "study" or how to learn efficiently and effectively.  I had to weld together little, tiny pieces of social behavioral rules and constructs from my awkward and inept interactions with my "family" and schoolmates and the community.  It did NOT go well.  

In 1969 when I "graduated" from high school, I was still 17, not officially 18 until September, still without a driver's license, never been kissed, gone on a date, been to any friend's party, had a real girlfriend or significant relationship, or was in any way ready for the REAL world waiting for me.  
I needed to know how to be socially aware and to interact with other "men", "play well with others", how to meet, treat, and interact with members of the opposite sex, how to study efficiently and effectively, how to drive safely, how to buy, sell, and negotiate for anything, how to budget my money especially earning it, saving it, and investing it.  I needed to know about other religions, philosophies, politics and political parties, the war in Viet Nam, the civil rights movement, the sexual revolution, Woodstock, the math and science of the Moon Landing, and above all, how to come to terms with my internal struggles and conflicts and the miasma of religion, beliefs and values that were beginning to brew and boil inside.  
BUT, NO, I was NOT prepared or ready in any way to deal with the Real issues facing a 17-year-old.  



Then throw in a total ecosystem and structural change and BAM, there I was going off to the United States Naval Academy, USNA.
I had several weeks between high school graduation and having to report to USNA.  It was turbulent and difficult few weeks.  The Houck family acted as if they could care less.  They never talked to me about any of the challenges or difficulties.  They seemed to care less.  
They, Mr. and Mrs. Houck, drove me the 3 hours to Annapolis.  I had one old suitcase and a typewriter.  Thank goodness I had taken a typing class. Perhaps the most useful and practical course I ever took in high school.  I still use it today!!! How many high school courses can you use today?  It was not a fond, memory making trip except for the comment by Mr. Houck who stated, "don't know how you'll make it if you can't even stop pissing your pants", referring to the very early days of my arrival in Danville, when, due to the one bathroom for 7 people, I wet myself several times... this because I was not allowed to relieve myself outside like I had been used to doing in Korea.  Yep, just more old acid and vinegar on some sad memories rather than any encouragement and pep talks.  No Sir, that's not the Houck way!  



Most parents I noticed then and even today will drop off their son or daughter and wait for the Induction Ceremony later in the day after the new "mid" has been instructed on the very basics and been transitioned into the plebe uniform.  Not the Houck's.  Dropped me off and did not see or hear from them until I found a way to get home on winter break in December, six months later.  Never a visit, or phone call, or letter, or care package.  Oh sure, there were others who had similar issues, but not many, not in my company.  It was a cold, cold separation, no hugs for goodbyes, or good luck or prayers or any encouragement.  Just drop off the package and off they went.  So, what's new?  

This would continue to be one of the underlying cancers in my life.  This caustic, cold, careening interpersonal dysfunction between the Houck's and me.  Even after all these years, nearly 60 years, it continues to gnaw and grind and grate.  I am trying to get to forgiveness, but it is a very difficult process of peeling away and abrading the layers of hate, revile, disgust, disappointments, and disasters.  The years have slowly built up a thick callous of "don't care anymore" but that's not really true.  We are always our parents' child and our inner child never really moves away from the need for love, positivity, encouragements and assurances, support and positive presence.  We may outgrow the need for guidance as we mature but we never outgrow the innate need for parental love.  
I had it with my true Appa in the early years.  I think that's what truly got me through life, his love, his caring, his protection, his teachings.  




So, alone, with my two things, I go to the check in place and face a wall of strangers who seem to be totally pissed off to see me.  



The loud commands, the shouting, the orders and incessant directions to do this and that.  Total chaos and confusion in my mind.  The "fight or flight" reaction came to the top which created panic and extreme distress, exactly what this induction process was supposed to do. 



The first day, the first week is to separate you from your prior life into being a plebe, a nothing, a total newbie in a new ecosystem that combined a university with a military boot camp. 





You drop off your things, line up, wait, line up and wait for a haircut, actually a near shave, so-called buzz cut with about a quarter inch of hair on top, gear issue, room assignment, new roommates, chaos, yelling, running, and a short break for lunch, then more running, yelling and a tsunami of instructions and details that you're supposed to know yesterday.  
Magically it all comes together by late afternoon, you're in your new uniform, and you line up for the induction ceremony when you take the Oath of Office as a Midshipman in the United States Navy.  



You get a few moments to meet with your parents before they return to the real world and you go back to being a plebe!



Then the real plebe summer begins:






One day melts into the next, you're so busy that first week that time seems to stop.  5 o'clock reveille, physical training on Farragut Field with Heinz Lenz, learning to march in formation, wearing all the different uniform items, shoe shining, buckle polishing, room inspections, and more marching, drilling, running, and yelling.  



Very soon a few people left, dropping out rather than take "all that bullshit".  That's one of the main purposes for this chaos and constant intimidation.  
Soon, the summer program, Plebe Summer, was coming to a close the everyone was told to be ready for the "return of the brigade"!  

That's when all the other students, Middies, the "Youngsters" who were now sophomores, who had just finished their Plebe Year, the Second Class, the Juniors returning from a month's vacation and a month of summer training, and the dreaded "Firsties", the seniors who had gone through their summer training of visiting the four main branches of the Naval Service - Aviation in Pensacola, Marines in Quantico, Surface ships in Norfolk or other major Naval Base, Submarines at several submarine babes such as Groton or Kings Bay.  The Firsties would be making their service selection at the end of the first semester where they would choose which branch they would serve their 5-year obligation.  
For us, that was an eternity away because right now we had to survive the onslaught of questions, demands, and tasks that were constantly given to the "plebes" by mostly the firsties and second classmen.  The youngsters were normally not involved but would sometimes be helpful to some plebes.  Yeah, the "Brigade's return" was going to be "fun"!