Free The Cadet by Doug Beason

excuse, sir!”
    Justice’s face grew even redder. “You don’t know the fourth stanza?”
    “No, sir!”
    “Incredible! That is the most disgusting thing I have ever heard in my entire life. A member of the first United States Air Force Academy class not knowing the fourth stanza of the greatest song in the history of mankind! There are communists out there that know that stanza, and you’re telling me that you don’t?”
    “Yes, sir!”
    “Drop and give me twenty. You disgust me. Your whole class disgusts me.”
    Rod felt as if his arms were about to drop off as he pushed up from the concrete.
    “Sound off, mister, or don’t you know how to count, either?”
    “Yes, sir! Fifteen, sixteen—”
    “You’re not counting for yourself, you stupid smack, you’re counting for me. The correct way to count is: One, sir. Two, sir. Three, sir. Understand?”
    “Yes, sir.”
    “Then start over. Hit it!”
    “Yes, sir. One, sir. Two, sir. Three, sir …” By the time Rod had finished, Justice was yelling at another basic. Rod momentarily thought about telling Captain Justice that he had finished, but he remembered his orders: five responses and don’t speak unless spoken to.
    So he decided to pop up and make a play for the door.
    Within seconds he was in the stairwell, heading for the second floor when someone screamed, “Halt!” The sound echoed against the hollow walls.
    Rod froze, not daring to look around. Two other basics ahead of him stopped as well. Oh, great. Just when he thought he had slipped away unnoticed. He wondered if he was ever going to make it to his room.
    A voice from above snarled down. “Climb the stairs one at a time! If you use two steps you might slip and fall, then it will take all day to clean your puny little brains off the cement. Go back down and do it again.”
    “Yes, sir,” they said. Turning on their heels, they each executed a perfect about face and trotted down the stairs. Reaching the bottom they took the stairs again.
    “Keep your hands off that railing! And climb the stairs at attention! Do it again!”
    “Yes, sir!” Once again they negotiated their way down the stairs, only to turn and race back up, but this time with their chins rammed into their chest, their arms squeezed tightly to their side and looking straight ahead.
    “What are you men doing under cover?” screamed the voice as they huffed to the top of the stairs.
    “No excuse, sir!” Rod was totally confused, but no way was he going to admit it.
    “Then get back down and do it again; but this time remove your hats! Who are you weenies, hicks from Appalachia? Gentlemen don’t wear their hats indoors unless they’re carrying their weapons. This isn’t the damned Navy!”
    “Yes, sir.” Rod removed his cap, tucked it tightly under his arm, and trotted down the stairs. Once again, he turned and started up the steps, the stairway from hell that seemed to add steps every time he negotiated it. The bawling out he’d received from Captain Justice suddenly didn’t seem so bad when compared to running the stairs.
    “You men are disgusting. Now speed out. You’re late getting to your rooms!”
    Rod felt light headed by the time he finally reached the top. The constant running in the high altitude made him dizzy, especially coming from sea level. His stomach grumbled; what little meal he had eaten at noon was now a distant memory.
    He didn’t have time to think about his dizziness or his hunger much longer. As he stepped out of the stairwell, he saw a line of angry officers correcting his classmates who were backed up against the wall.
    He felt as if he had stepped into the last circle of hell.
    Time slowed to a near standstill as Rod drank in the horrific sounds of officers yelling, basics screaming.
    He heard feet thumping against the wooden floor as basics ran in place; other classmates hoarsely tried to sing “America the Beautiful,” “the Star Spangled Banner,” and “God Bless America” while