Bad Luck Cadet Read Online Free PDF

asleep.
    I slept until 0430 hours the next day, woke
up, and did it all again. We were given 110 pushups at morning
inspection and ten hill runs. I could barely move my arms during
class and taking notes was excruciating. I thought Friday would
never come. I was gigged (gig is like a demerit) for my boots every
day. Our class could do nothing right.
    My thinking began to change that week. I had
always respected police officers but my admiration for them was
growing as well.
    We were constantly under stress. It was
explained as being similar to what it would be like as an officer
on a patrol shift. Being a police officer was stressful as well as
deadly and if we couldn’t handle it we needed to leave. It was not
shameful to decide this was not right for you. It was smart, or so
they told us.
    I struggled with my decision to become a
police officer on a whim. Did I have what it would take? Could I
handle the stress?
    Friday finally came and we were released at
1600 hours. I was too tired to make the drive home. I called my
husband and begged his forgiveness. I spent the weekend working on
my shoes, typing my notes and organizing my binders.
    Sunday evening at 2000 hours we had a study
group in our classroom. All but two cadets showed up. The two
missing didn’t show up for physical training on Monday morning as
well. They had decided being a police officer was not right for
them. My roommate with the hurt knee was one of the two not
returning. I was down to one bunkmate. The bathroom schedule became
much easier.
    Cadet Donna Higgins, Rocco Chavez and I were
becoming a team. We were the slowest, most un-police like cadets at
the academy and we bonded. We weren’t treated badly by the other
cadets, but we knew they didn’t think we would make it.
    Our first classroom test was the next day. If
we didn’t pass, the decision to stay would be taken out of our
hands.

 
    Chapter 8 The Worst Possible Enemy
    The day of our first classroom test had
arrived. After more torture at morning physical training, then
breakfast, then inspection where we earned eight hill runs, we sat
down for our test. Bubble sheets again. It was multiple choice, but
for every question there were at least two possible
answers.
    We were able to leave the room when we
finished. I was third out the door and felt I had done well. Cadet
Clark, our classroom leader, who we had elected the previous week,
was the first to finish. There was a machine for grading in the
secretary’s office outside the classroom. When approximately ten
bubble sheets were turned in, they were gathered and run through
the machine.
    My test was handed back and I only missed
three out of eighty-six. We all managed to pass but there were
quite a few scores in the seventies. We were told this was the
easiest test we would be given and we needed to study harder. It
felt good to be out of the bottom of the pack for a
change.
    Next, each squad was given a package of
stencils and one black cloth marker. We were told we needed to
stencil our last names on the back of our white physical training
t-shirts. The top of the letters had to be two inches down from the
collar.
    It was a disaster. Mistakes were made left and
right by the male cadets and t-shirts were thrown in the garbage.
When it was my turn to stencil I had no problems. It was easy. I
wasn’t a housewife and homemaker for nothing. Word got out. It was
decided I would stencil while cadets shined my boots. What a great
trade off.
    The next morning, for the first time, Sgt.
Dickens said, “Nice boots cadet.”
    We could carry a backpack for our binders and
classroom supplies. I carried everything but the kitchen’s sink in
mine. Ibuprofen, Kleenex, band aides, sun block and chemical
icepacks were only a few of the items. As word got out on this,
Cadets began raiding my supplies regularly and I earned the name
Momma Ivy. I think we nicknamed everyone. It was our way of making
our group a family. We became proud of those names.
    Tuesday