the
reprisal.
During morning inspection Donna was asked to
step front and center. She was then asked if she wrote the memo. It
had her name on it but I guess Sgt. Dickens was making a point. Her
squad leader was called up next, and asked if he read the memo, and
if he agreed with Donna’s analysis. He stated he did and yes he
agreed. Cadet Clark, the class leader was called next. He also
stated he agreed.
Sgt. Dickens asked if anyone disagreed with
Cadet Chavez. Not one person stepped forward.
“The entire group of you," said Sgt. Dickens,
"is nothing but a class of fucking babies. I’m embarrassed to be
your Sergeant. I’m embarrassed you think you can be police
officers. Not fair?" his voice screamed, "Not fair? I’ll show you
'not fair!' You will all turn in a ten page memo by tomorrow
morning on what is not fair in life. You will proceed with one
hundred pushups this morning and twenty hill runs after class to
give you a start on your memos. One of us will now be in the
classroom at all times and you will learn what 'fair' is all about.
Cadet Higgins you may lead the class in pushups.”
And so it began. If we stopped or got out of
sync, Sgt. Dickens was in our face. We all struggled through.
During class we weren’t just pulled out during break we were pulled
out during classroom time and told to do more pushups.
The Pushup Club did not exist that
day.
After our classroom torture was finished, we
headed to the hill for our twenty hill runs. Once those were
accomplished, we headed back to our dorms to begin writing our
memos. I didn’t go to bed until 0230. Donna cried for hours. She
felt horrible about the entire class being punished for her memo. I
tried to explain to her that Sgt. Dickens was psyching her out and
she had to pull through.
We turned in our memos before breakfast to our
squad leaders. Some were returned, and cadets spent breakfast
rewriting the page which had mistakes. It helped that we all
remembered our old grade school trick of writing in large print.
The memos were eventually turned into the Sergeant, but our
classroom time continued to be hell that week. I lost count of the
number of pushups we did.
Wednesday, according to our calendar, was
expandable baton training and we were told to bring them to morning
physical training. There was no inspection and we spent the day
learning the ins and outs of controlling someone with a
baton.
My biggest fear was having my baton taken away
and getting beaten with it. But we learned techniques for keeping
the bad guy from accomplishing this. I also learned why we did so
many pushups. I could barely hold the baton by the end of the day
and I’m sure I couldn’t have just three weeks before. Having
completed baton training, we were given permission to carry our
batons on our duty belts.
Donna was talking about not returning after
the weekend. I made her promise she would come back, but I had my
doubts. Sgt. Dickens was singling her out during inspection and she
could do nothing right. The psychological abuse was terrible but
for some reason I think my age played a huge factor in it not
affecting me as much as the younger cadets.
It was the physical requirements that were
overtaking me. My body was breaking down. My back was killing me,
my joints were unbearably painful and my muscles cramped
continually. My age had caught up with me.
Friday finally came and we left for the
weekend.
I called Donna several times and she said she
would return. I wouldn’t believe it until I actually saw her Sunday
night at the study session.
Chapter 11 The Red Shirts bring
Pain
I managed a quick trip to my chiropractor’s
office over the weekend for a readjustment and a water additive to
help replenish lost body fluids. But I was on pins and needles to
see if Donna would return.
I was able to have lunch with some friends
including Veronica on Saturday. She was invested in my hell and
completely understood why my head was shaved. My other friends
Learning to Kill: Stories