As far as I know, only there is only one member of Pre-flight class 28-62 whose name appears on the Viet Nam Veterans Wall in Washington, DC. That classmate is John Abrams, killed while flying for HAL-3 in the Mekong Delta. John was also a squadron mate of mine in HS-7 in Norfolk from 1964-1966. I met John for the first time after lights-out on our very first night in Pensacola, in that crowded bunk room where about sixty of us huddled in nervous anticipation of the next encounter with our drill sergeant.
My roommate from college, Ed Higginbotham, had entered the program several weeks ahead of me, and he advised me sternly NOT to show up at Pre-flight early on the first day. I arrived around five PM, and had enough time to get the full brief about the Quarterdeck (which I traversed without the proper acknowledgement), the position of attention (which I had already memorized, thanks to Ed), and when to assume that position (whenever Sgt. Hoffman entered the massive bunk room).
I was also made aware, at the top of Sgt. Hoffman's lungs, what was expected of me (of all of us) at reveille the next morning. To wit: be standing at attention beside your bunk, with a sheet in each hand and the pillowcase over your head. Seemed a bit extreme to me, but I was prepared to do whatever the Sergeant wanted, if it meant I escaped his undivided attention.
We had turned in at taps, after a pointed lecture on how to make up a bunk with hospital corners, with the top sheet turned down so that a dollar bill fit precisely across it. About an hour later (I was not asleep, and I doubt many of us were) in comes our last arrival, John Abrams. The bunk above me was one of the only ones left, and John struggled into it with many questions, which I and those around me tried desperately to hush up.
Of course John wanted to know what the straight skinny was; and although it seemed to me that I was risking some sort of hideous torture from the sergeant, I got him somewhat quieted down and then informed him of the next morning's drill. "When the lights go on tomorrow at 5 AM, be standing beside your bunk with one sheet in each hand and your pillowcase over your head"!
"You gotta be shitting me"!!
Naturally, John was skeptical. He had not yet experienced Sgt. Hoffman's cold stare or apoplectic screams. He would soon get more of them than any of us ever wanted, when we were being outfitted with uniforms and such a few days later. That's another story.
"Listen, Buddy", I said, "I don't care if you believe me or not; but when the Sergeant flips on those lights in the morning, you DO NOT want to be the only sad sack in this room without a sheet in each hand and a pillowcase over your head! Now hush the hell up and let's get at least a little sleep"!
I don't remember who else I met on that first day. It was a shocking day, even allowing for the good advice I got from Ed Higginbotham. Was it on that first day that we learned how to enter the sergeant's office? ... Step smartly to the brass plate in the middle of the double door. Right face. Position of attention. With right hand, slam the metal-trimmed entrance as hard as you possibly can, bruising your thumb painfully in the process. Sergeant doesn't look up. Slam again, even harder. Sergeant asks the private if he hears some kind of pitiful tapping. Slam until the walls shake.
"What the hell do you want, lowlife"?
"Sir! Cadet Stoddard to see the Drill Sergeant, Sir!"
"Stoddard, why is your OD jacket over your head"?
Sir! My OD jacet was unbuttoned during RLPI, Sir"!
"Unbuttoned? You worthless puke! Assume the position! Give me thirty pushups"!
Thirty quick pushups.
"Stoddard! Who is that outside my door"?
"That's my roommate, Cadet Stark, Sir"!
"Why is he here"?
"His OD jacket was unbuttoned as well, Sir"!
"Stark! Give me thirty pushups"!
"Stoddard"!
"Sir"!
"Are you going to let your roommate do his pushups all by himself"?
"No sir, sergeant"!
Thirty more....
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