Basic Training
Every day we were marched from place to place, often to the Green Monster for processing. The Green Monster is a large processing center that can accommodate hundreds and hundreds of people at the same time. The first processing was to be paid—a month's pay was a whopping $61 known as the flying 61 because it didn’t last long. The second processing was to get a haircut and it cost a buck. The haircut took seconds as the barber simply used his electric razor to reduce your hair to about one quarter inch in length. 
Many of the guys had great looking duck tail haircuts—gone in seconds. I had what was called a flattop haircut then, about an inch long, so it was not much of a change for me. It does mean that you can wash your hair with a washcloth. A great time saver and a temptation even today.
Processing included getting shots for smallpox, diphtheria, polio, etc. One time as we were in this enormous line where you would get two shots in each arm, the line stuttered and I got a second helping. The medics giving the shots must have been bored out of their minds.
Other processing included testing and training. For some reason, they kept looking for people who knew Morse code. I don’t know why. The testing determined where one would go after basic training. Prior to enlistment I had scored high in math and science and low in English. I did the same in basic training; actually I had scored in the top 5 percent. I was still expecting to go to Biloxi, Mississippi to be trained in Communications.
Most airmen get their uniforms at end of the first week or the beginning of the second. Ours did not arrive until the end of the third week. We were told to only bring one or two changes of clothes. I brought four and extra underwear and was glad that I did. To get our uniforms we had to return to the Green Monster. We were told to purchase an AWOL bag to put our civilian clothes in—the bags were taken away and shipped home for us. I wonder what my mother thought about receiving those dirty clothes. Then we stripped and marched in a long line as various people hurled clothes at us. When done we were all in green fatigues with a large pile of clothes and a duffle bag. We then received instructions on how to pack. When we were done all 66 pounds of clothes and shoes fit in the bag.
Now that we had GI shoes we learned how to spit shine them as well as the brim of our dress hats. When I see an actor in a movie grab the bill of his cap, I know that he was never in the military. It takes time to get those fingerprints off. Marching every day means polishing your shoes every day, sometimes in the dark after lights out.
In the Air Force mail call was an important daily ritual. Right after supper, usually around 5:30 the DI would call our names and throw letters and packages at us. I wrote Carol every day and my parents at least twice a week. I even wrote aunts, uncles, etc. just to get them to write me. My insurance agent decided to be cute and wrote me a letter addressed to Sgt. Gary Smith. The DI grilled me for 15 minutes about promoting myself. Apparently, many GI’s lied about their ranks to family and friends. Airmail cost a whopping 7 cents.
Footlockers are unique invention of the military. During basic there are rules in how your footlocker must be packed. There is of course a personal area 4x4x4 inches that you can put anything you like in it. Like note paper. Your razor (or shaver), toothbrush, toothpaste and shaving crème must be displayed just so. Also, there cannot be any material in the last quarter inch of your toothpaste or shaving crème. When I learned this, I bought a second set and kept them hidden in my dirty laundry bag—these were the ones that I actually used. During one 
inspection (probably our last Sunday) our DI was having fun with one airman. He picked up his shaving crème and told him there was material in the spout as he pushed the button dispensing a small dab of shaving crème. The airman did not remain at attention with eyes front, but started to argue, caught himself and resumed the attention position. The DI smiled and repeated his claim, then he proceeded to decorate the airman like cake. Several others broke out laughing. I who was standing directly across from him did not, but the tears from not laughing were streaming down my face. The DI did tear apart a few bunks, including mine, claiming they were made incorrectly (they were not). He found my magazines, looked surprised that they were not girly magazines and told me to get rid of them. I hid them in my laundry bag too. He checked my bunk later that day. He seemed pleased that I had followed his instructions and removed the offensive electronics magazines. We had a real inspection the following day and passed with flying colors.