Summer Life

I know it's been a while, but I don't really have that much going on. The only reason I'm posting is because I feel obligated to pronounce my continued existence. That and I've finally accumulated enough to write a small amount about halfway through the summer.

The main thing I'm doing in College Station is Physics. Electricity and Magnetism isn't that bad so far, but it does happen to be one of the most failed courses at A&M. I also prefer to do well in it, but even with that wish, there's really no Corps activities to speak of, and I'm only taking one class, so I keep finding stuff to do in my spare time. After an extended period of about a week trying to not be bored by playing video games with friends, I've discovered that the library has a respectable collection of Orson Scott Card books. Specifically, I've been reading the Ender's Game series. Unfortunately for me, they don't have all of them, so I'm going to have to find another place to read, but they do have 3/4 of the major storyline, as well as all of the minor storyline and a few unrelated books of the same universe. I've found that I can get through one 200-300 page book in about four or five hours, if I decide to string it out, or 3-4 if I'm in a hurry.

The Ender's Game book mostly deals with the early life of a boy, who, having been trained all of his life for war, kills what is thought to be an entire alien civilization, thinking that the final battle was merely a simulation. The rest of the series deals with the finding of another potentially deadly alien civilization and the various philisophical, familial, moral, and theological problems that it presents. Much of it (especially in the third book) revolves around what kind of alien life it is acceptable to destroy, and how to tell which is which. It's actually a quite entertaining discussion, and not terribly hard to follow most of the time. I expect that these books may become required reading if we ever decide to send a colony to a potentially livable planet. I know for a fact that the reading of the first book, dealing with Ender's development as a leader and strategist is strongly encouraged, if not required, among some of the military institutions in this country.

In addition to reading and physics, I've had the opportunity to help recruit for the Corps. It's mostly been small, behind the scenes jobs, but I've done a bit up front too. There is no possible way to describe how wierd it is to be introduced to someone who will probably be your fish next year. It's something like a combination of "who do you think you are, hot shot?" and "you have no idea what you're getting in to". Some of them have attitudes that can be annoying, until I realize that that's where I was a year ago, thinking almost exactly the same thoughts. I've also been talking to a lot of non-regs, and have found that there really is no way to comprehend what the Corps is without experiencing it.

On that note, I've noticed that the Corps has quite the public relations problem. It doesn't take a genius to notice that Corps enrollment isn't increasing the way the university is. It's not so much that everyone hates us, it's just that no one really understands us. Even when the Air Force paid to have a Chief Master Sergeant (an E-9, the highest pay grade for an enlisted person) from the Air Force Academy talk to us about leadership, it was clear he had no idea what makes us tick. And this guy's been lecturing to people like us for decades. I'm only beginning to see the start of what holds us all together myself. It's not just an internal thing to my outfit, I can meet pretty much anyone in the Corps and already know, based on my experiences, a certain amount of their prejdudices, priorities, preferences, and some of what they've gone through. Very few non-regs see past the march-ins every home game, the constant PT we're doing, the constant yelling on the Quad to see the things that make the Corps what it is. It's not so much the march-in, it's the pride in the Corps and the whole-hearted support for the university. It's not so much the PT, it's the learning from the mistakes, the bonding with your buddies, the unity within the outfit. It's not so much the yelling, it's the whip-out, the introduction between a fish and those who will train him, and the respect that must exist without which there could be no leadership.

On a lighter note, I'm having quite a bit of fun here. Between the physics, recruiting, and the library, it's hard to stay bored, despite the relative nonexistence of summer life in Aggieland. It really is amazing to walk around on a Saturday afternoon and see no one for ten minutes at a time. Additionally, with the reduced workload, I'm available to respond to comments and emails if you wish to send them, at least until fall comes around.

End of fish Year

As you may have noticed, final review was about three weeks ago. Yes, I've been slow coming to this, but it's mostly due to laziness this time. Today I'm going to tell you about some of the things that happened during the last two weeks of the semester. The emphasis is on some, since there's no way that I could tell everything. There was just too much going on.

(By the way, Peter, SPOILER ALERT. It's really in your best interest not to read much of the following. Just skip down to final review and enjoy fish year.)

A note about what follows: it's not nearly as funny unless you know that hazing is a felony.

Two weeks before final review was sophomore drop. Sophomore drop is one of those things that every fish looks forward to with a large amount of excitement and more that a small amount of dread. We'd had smokings for every drop until that point, and some of the stories of what other outfits had put their fish through for sophomore drop do not bear repeating. Since it's the last time fish have to act as fish (except final review, which doesn't count) some people take the opportunity to do some really crazy stuff.

So, Friday training comes around. The entire week the sophomores had been telling us to hydrate for March to the Brazos (abbreviated MTTB, an 18 mile hike) and had been hinting that crazy stuff would happen Friday evening. When 4:30 comes around (training time) we all go into the fallout hole as is normal and then fall out onto the wall. The odd thing was that there was no one except us and the sophomores present. Apparently it's at least a good idea and it may be required (I'm not sure) for some juniors and seniors to be present at training times. Then the shocker comes. The sophomores tell us to pack C's and T's (the uniform we would wear the next morning for ) in a bag along with whatever we would need for the night. Then they sent us on a wild goose chase (driving, not walking) to places such as Rosa's , Laynes, Cold Stone, and the Chicken (where the bartender had us eat small bowls full of jalapenos and drink the same bowl full of tabasco sauce). We eventually ended up at a deserted park with plenty of back-woods trails; the perfect spot to get away with anything without being seen. The sophomores were already waiting for us. Then the police showed up. Not one, not two, not even three, but four police cars showed up. And there were our sophomores, standing around wearing shirts that said things like PRO HAZING: it's not peer pressure, it's just your turn and looking guilty. A couple of them even had axe handles, the traditional symbol of hazing at A&M. I've never seen them look so scared in my life.

Anyways, we just got on to the drop. We whipped out and had a barbecue dinner (the sophomore class has some good burger cooks) and for the first time could talk to sophomores using their first names. It wasn't nearly as awkward as I thought it would be. We also stopped being fish on that day. No more locking it up on the walls, no more "sir sandwiches", no more yelling our heads off on the quad. The sophomores, after a bit of questioning, told us what was supposed to happen before the police showed up. They were going to pretend to haze us. They had collected laundry bags from us earlier that they would put over our heads, lead us around the woods for a bit, they would pretend to be about to beat us. That's when we would drop.

MTTB wasn't nearly as bad as I thought it would be. Traditionally, MTTB is where everyone gets their rank for the next year (accompanied by a lot of PT after half of an 18 mile hike). So our fish class got Private First Class brass, the sophomores got non-commisioned officer brass (Sergeants and variants therof), and the juniors got office brass. The seniors then left on the buses that took them back to campus (or to the Chicken, I've heard) and we hiked all the way back.

SPOILERS END (Continue reading from here, Peter)

Dead week and finals week were a lot more fun this year. Not only could we finally talk to people normally, but there were several trips throughout the weeks. I went to a professional soccer game in Houston the Saturday before finals week, then returned the next Tuesday for a Nightwish concert, and the next day went to New Braunfels to go tubing.

Final review really wasn't as fun as it sounds. I know, the last time you have to march for a year and the first time wearing a new uniform are occasions to be glad about, but the way it was planned just messed with our lives. For one thing, Cadets are required to be out of the dorms the same day. That lead to the situation of the entire Corps trying to move out between second pass of final review and midnight. The timing of final review was exceptionally poorly planned. It occured between 5:00 and 8:00 in the evening, so there really was not much time to leave. Additionally, everyone was starving because that took up the time where most people would have dinner. By the time we left, very few places were still open to eat, and we only got home at 1:30 the next morning. We'll call that bad planning by Corps leadership and leave it at that.