For some reason, last evening I got to thinking about my college days, and my first day and introduction to college, at The Citadel, in Charleston, South Carolina. I think the school appealed to me because of my growing up during the war, uniforms and military were a big part of my growing up.
My Mom and Dad has decided to take me down, they were going to take me to Charleston, spend a few days, and then head down to Florida and visit some relatives we had there. It would also ease the void I would make, leaving my home of eighteen years.
I had corresponded with the school, visited there and been accepted, and in September of 1950, I would be a Cadet at The Citadel. I would be in P Company, Ordinance, and was
assigned to Barracks 3, I don't remember if it had a name or not, some did.
I really don't remember the trip down, I do remember pulling up to the third barracks, stopping, a beehive of activity, upperclassmen assigned to the task of "welcoming" new students and seeing that they got to their assigned room, all the new Cadets, arriving, entering this new world and new way of life, and in some ways, growing up, maturing, never being the same again, a life changing moment for all of us, freshmen, momentarily.
The '49 green, four-door Cadillac, pulled away, and I was left standing there, with the clothing I was instructed to bring, one piece of luggage, with my new "Cadet Friends." I watched to car leave the campus, picked up my suitcase and waited for instructions.
"Hey, duscwat, pick up that suitcase, stand at attention, get those shoulders back, stick that neck back, stand straight, don't look at me Dewille, look straight ahead.
"What happened, these guys were so nice, I've been to DePauw where my Brother went, they were all so nice, these guys are all yelling at me, OMG what happened, what have I gotten myself in to?"
I double timed up the stairs, was yelled at and/stopped five times, I could do nothing right. Then I was approached by a really scary looking guy, he wore a Sergeants insignia, big and mean looking. My First Sergeant, Gus Gustafson, from Mattoon, Illinois, and, on the wrestling team.
That started a year of walking at attention, everything "squared" .... walking, corners, eating, living in the "barracks," marching, drilling, memorizing, learning "The Citadel" way of life. I was being molded in to a Cadet. I only spent a year and a half there, talked my Dad in to letting me transfer, big mistake on my part, but ...................................
