Basic Progress - Prologue

Boot Camp - 1982.

It was an adventure. We worked at skills and disciplines and timing to the point of exhaustion --Fire fighting school, marching, reveille, bad food. Our company commander lectured us at night. He was preparing us for war! One night he told us that we would never forget him. I still don't believe him. Mess duty, memorization, medical call, bad food. Along with the nightly prayer, countdown to boot camp graduation was a company affair.

Breaks were for shining shoes and laughing at each other. I always counted the birds. I don't know why. I was homesick and tired and bored...

Pigeons don't have roll call. I'm sure their roster was different every day. It is my guess that these fat black or gray birds trade places from time to time and take turns showing up to frustrate me. I couldn't really tell, they all looked alike to me.

I had developed the custom of smuggling a piece of bread to bribe my companions. There was some hope that I could get close to them. I spit and buffed and chewed snuff and I counted the birds. My shoes looked good, I was wondering why I had enlisted, and the pigeons continued to ignore me. They wouldn't get close.

"Look!" With good reason, the others thought I was crazy. My normal shoe shine and smoke break had provided me with a sign! Among the pigeons, was a vision that I related to --He was unique. He was brown!

A brown pigeon with some white feathers.

I had never noticed one like it before. He returned three consecutive days. I wanted to ask him some questions. I tried to bribe him. He acted like the rest. I say 'he.' It could've been female.

After the brown pigeon left, I wondered if he knew he was different. He sure didn't act like it. The other birds didn't seem to notice or care.

I related to the one that was different. He really didn't belong...

He looked like I felt.