Buckaroo Who is a story of a young man arriving at his first duty station in the Air Force during the mid 1980s. It includes much of what I experienced but also fictionalizes a lot and delves deeply into Buckaroo Who’s limitless imagination that takes him on new adventures.
Presented here is chapter 3.
I woke up. At first a little hazy until I remembered where I was. But then the door tumblers rattled, and the door opened. Some man walked in. For the briefest moment, we looked at each other. He was shorter than me. It looked like he was returning from work. His fatigues were marked with oil and grease. A scent akin to lacquer thinner arrived with him. I asked, “What is that smell?”
“You must be my new roommate. I didn’t think I would have the room to myself for long. My name is Dennis.”
“I’m Patrick. I just arrived this morning.”
“Hi Patrick. This smell is JP-4. Jet fuel. I’m a crew chief for the 22nd Aircraft Maintenance Unit. Where are you working?”
“The 53rd. A-Shop.”
“Avionics, a pointy head, huh. Ok. Well nice to meet you.”
“Nice to meet you too,” I replied. I didn’t know what pointy head was but let it pass.
He walked around to his side of the room and began to undress. Our lockers were arranged so that we each had some privacy from each other. Unfortunately, my bed was next to the door and his was hidden in a corner. He came back around wearing a towel and carrying his toiletries. He asked, “Do you know where the showers and toilets are?”
“Yeah.”
He looked at my naked mattress. “Do you know where linen exchange is?”
“No.”
“So, you didn’t listen to the dorm chief when he assigned you my room. You better get down there. It closes in 30 minutes.”
I didn’t remember the dorm chief telling me about linen exchange. All I remember was trying to process everything Ben and I had done today and all I needed to remember. There was a lot of information, and I might have missed it. But even I knew that wasn’t true, I did miss it. That bit of information just couldn’t make it onto the onramp of my mental speedway. I looked back up at Dennis, but he was gone. I figured I would need a copy of my orders, so I grabbed one. Then headed down to linen exchange.
Back on the first floor, I found it behind a sign on a door. Luckily, I had a few minutes left. Entering the room, I saw an elderly man. “Hi, I just arrived today.”
“Orders, bitte?” He asked in a heavy German accent.
I gave him my copy. Wow, I thought. He must be at least 80 years old. World War II only ended 40 odd years ago. I wonder what he did back then and how he feels now about working for Americans. I saw him grab my sheets and blanket. His skinny, wrinkly arms could barely lift them to the counter. Someday I should talk to him and learn about his past.
Two pale sheets, a pillowcase, and an olive-green wool blanket. Military leftovers, I guess. I headed back to the room. I grabbed the door, but it was locked. “Oh, man,” I complained to myself. Just another stupid action. I simply must remember my keys.
I knocked but no answer. Dennis could still be in the shower. I headed down to the community showers and found Dennis at the sink. His towel was wrapped around his waist. “Umm, Dennis,” I asked holding my linen in my arms. “I locked myself out.”
He shook his head, and I muttered “Stupid Airman” to myself. It seemed to echo what his lips whispered to himself.
“Do I look like your nanny? Oh, never mind, I’ll be right there.”
I walked down and waited outside the door. Dennis came walking down holding his keys and opened the door. “Thanks, nanny?”
With a swiftness that billowed his towel, he turned around. “Not now, kid. You haven’t earned it.”
“Earned it?”
“You are nothing. Just some kid out of tech school without any idea of what we do here. You haven’t yet seen the real Air Force, boy.”
Dennis looked angry and I didn’t want this on my first day. All I could muster was “I’m sorry.”
“You owe me, kid.” His fingers jingled and the lock disengaged. He walked into the room.
I followed him into his room. Wasn’t it my room now? Just something I had to figure out. I looked at my naked bed and the linen in my hands.
Dennis peaked around the corner. “Just make the damn bed and get cleaned up. I’ll take you down to Spuds later. I need some beer after today.”
This was my first true move. Sure, there was basic training at Lackland Air Force Base in San Antonio, then two more bases for technical training. Lowry in Denver was first then Langley in Virginia, but this was my first new home. I loved putting away my clothes in the wall locker and finding places for my toiletries and other personal items. It felt like I was crafting a new life. Starting new stories. The bed looked nice all made up. I folded up my duffle bag and squeezed it under the bed next to my suitcase.
I got undressed and grabbed my towel and toiletries that found a new home in sweet travel case. I wrapped my towel around my waist and palmed the key to the room. I walked down to the showers. The community bathroom had three large rooms. The middle room contained about fifteen sinks. It was flanked by a room with toilet stalls and urinals and an open room with a bunch of shower heads. I got cleaned up and returned to the room. I dressed myself with blue jeans and a button-down plaid shirt.
“You ready to get some beer?” Asked Dennis.
I nodded and we left the room. I wasn’t sure where we were going yet, so I kept quiet and followed.
“You’re in luck, Patrick. Spuds is a bar that is in our own dorm.”
I followed him down the central hallway with doors leading to other rooms. Was it in a room? Was it an actual bar? Or perhaps a party? I asked, “Is it in one of the rooms?”
“No, idiot. It is on the ground floor. The staircase you came up is where the dayroom, linen exchange, and the dorm chief’s office is. On the ground floor of the other staircase is Spuds.”
We walked down the stairs. How many times would I walk these stairs in the coming months and years? The wear on the steps and railings was obvious. A few marks penciled the walls. When I was at field training at Langley, we had been tasked to paint the buildings several times. I suspected these walls also held several coats of paint. How many stories were buried underneath these slabs of paint? Looking closely, I could see some ink emerging from beneath some paint that has peeled away.
I stopped and tried peeling back to see what was written, but Dennis interrupted me.
“We just painted these stairwells. If you don’t want to paint them again, stop peeling it.”
I thought I was uncovering some obscene picture but stopped peeling the paint and continued downward. I hoped nobody else noticed what I did. I hoped Dennis wouldn’t tell on me.
I heard the music growing louder. While I preferred country music, current rock hits began to infiltrate my steps. We walked down the last steps at the tail end of “Sledgehammer.” Spuds was inside a large room about the size of the dayroom, dorm chief, and linen exchange rooms combined. There was long bar along the wall. Looked like it held a full stock of beer and booze. Several stools were still empty. We walked in just as “Danger Zone” began its undeniable riff. It was quite full of people, not all table and chairs were fully occupied. Among the darkened room, smoke clouds hung under the low lights.
Dennis grabbed my arm. He looked at me and in chorus with the song and others shouted, “highway to the danger zone.” He pulled me over to a table. “Hey everyone, this is Patrick. My new roomy. He just arrived today.”
One of his buddies, hidden behind four empty bottles of Bitburger Pils, lifted a fifth to his mouth. He stopped and put the half empty bottle in my face. “Drink it, skater.”
His emphasis on skater gave me pause, and his voice was familiar. Not wanting to be unfriendly, I took a drink. It was a hard swallow. I almost spit it back out. I coughed heavily afterwards. I had heard Bitburger Pils was quite bitter. It was.
Everyone laughed at me. The buddy. Wait, I remember now. He is Conner, that guy from dispatch. I saw him take a long swig from the same bottle. His cringe came with a smile. A long belch followed.
“Hey, my big strong man, give me some of that.”
Conner leaned over to the girl beside him. It was that girl, Buckingham, from the orderly room. He leaned over and gave her a long kiss. Then a tap on her shoulder caused her to turn around and kiss some other man. Their tongues touched and spittle glisten down their lips.
Dennis looked at me. “You like that, boy. This here is Leah Buckingham.” He then walked over and leaned towards her. He whispered something in her ear. Then it turned into a kiss, and final whisper carried by his tongue deep into her ear.
Madonna started singing over the sound system. It was her song “Like a Virgin.” Was I about to be touched for the very first time? My heartbeat increased when Leah disengaged from Dennis and she stepped out towards me. Her tight-fitting jeans reminded me of a favorite country song. She wore a low-cut black blouse, without a bra. Another step closer and her perfume overpowered the smoke and alcohol. Its Lilly of the Valley carried a gentle yet infusing musk. I almost melted. Another step and her I saw deep into her eyes. Passion flowed heavily as she drew my focus into hers. She was just a step away, and a gentle touch graced my biceps. They shook terribly taking the rest of my body with them. She stood now just before me, almost a head shorter. I could smell her hair let loose from its earlier confinement. She let her fingers glide down my arms onto my hips then around to the small of my back. I felt her chest against me. Her emerging breasts pushed into me and outward from her low-cut shirt. I didn’t know what to say or do.
She lifted her head and her lips turned upwards and parted the moisture upon them. Her teeth emerged brighter than white capped mountains above soft, puffy cumulus clouds. I felt my tongue carouse my own lips. It was just us, nobody else. I bent my head forward.
She spoke to me. “My name is Leah. I am a princess. Do you think I’m a princess?”
Without any energy to say anything more, I mustered, “Yes.”
“I am the people’s princess. Do you want me to be your princess?”
“Yes.”
She rose upon her heels. Her head barely before mine. I inhaled her breath. I felt her hands move from my back to my chest. She held her breasts into mine, as one.
She pushed me with all her force, and I stumbled back. Someone placed their feet behind me. I tripped and fell backwards into someone carrying some drinks. They spilled all over me. There I was on the floor covered with beer and booze.
Leah took a step over me, bent down. I could see her breasts under her shirt. “But you are not my people, and you never will be.” She turned back around, kissed Conner, and they laughed. Everyone in Spuds was laughing. I guess I should be thankful that the alcohol flowed over my tears. But I was still betrayed.
“Look poor baby basic Airman is crying, look at his quivering lips.”
Every kept laughing.
I got up and ran back to my room. Crying all the way.
“Come back, crybaby. We are only having fun.”
I tried to open the door. It was locked. I shook it fiercely. It didn’t budge. I reached into my pocket and found my keys. I opened the door, entered, and slammed it shut. I fell onto my bed. I cried.
I just thought of every failure, every ineptitude and inability to act properly and be a man. I was tired of always failing, not standing up for myself. I opened my wall locker and grabbed my knife. Without question or hesitation, I slit my wrists. Now blood and tears both flowed down mixing with the remaining alcohol. The hot blood clashed with the cooling alcohol. It was almost cathartic, and cleansing. This felt right, like a destiny almost unfulfilled.