1. My OTS Adventure
Background information. There are two classes at OTS at any given time: an upper class
and a lower class. Basically, the upper class has been at OTS 6 weeks longer than the
lower class and they have the responsibility for running the wing. OTS is set up just like
a real base. It's called the OT (Officer Trainee) Wing. We had our own Wing CC, Top 4,
Squadron CCs, and Lower Flight CCs (Lower Flight CCs are OTs who act like TIs when the
TIs are gone). All of these individuals are upper class OTs. Each class contains
somewhere around 125 - 170 OTs.
We also have TIs. Believe it or not; these TIs are our friends!
We also have Field Training Officers (FTOs). These are the people who make us do
anywhere from 100-300 push-ups and sit-ups each day for the first three weeks. This
is what Lt Sutton is now.
Day 1 - The arrival
This day will remain as one of the best and worst decisions I've ever made. I dropped
my rental car off at 0945 and met some seemingly friendly upper classmen. For some
reason, these friendly people couldn't tell me anything about OTS. I should have turned
around then and ran home. About two hours later I traveled with two other prior AF
guys to OTS. Another nice gentlemen who gave me a briefing of which I can tell you
nothing about met me. I remember one thing about his briefing. He asked me if I was
sure I wanted to do this. My heart started racing and I should have turned around and
ran. Again, stupidly I went on. It was then that the seemingly nice people turned into
Satan and his spawn. All of the sudden I had 10 upper class OTs (no, I'm not
exaggerating) surrounding me and screaming at me. Go here; do this. That's all I
heard. All the while, people are screaming at me for everything from touching the Blue
Line to not greeting everyone correctly. To try to put it in perspective is impossible but
I'll give it a whirl. It's like having 125 TIs from basic training yelling at you. This
constant yelling continued for the first 5.5 weeks of training.
Day 1 - My first encounter with Lt Sutton and The Blue Line
As I'm standing in the hallway ready to wet myself and waiting to enter the room where
the Blue Line ceremony was being held, I see this tall lanky figure walk by. Because, I'm
not aloud to look around, I can't tell who it is until he passes and I see the back of his
baldhead. By this time, I'm about ready to cry because the yelling is like nothing you've
ever experienced. Lt Sutton turns around, looks at me and gives me the thumbs up.
That little gesture helped me get through the day of hell I was experiencing. You'll see

2. (if I finish this dissertation) Lt comes through at just the right times to keep me going.
Anyway, it's my turn at the Blue Line. I march forward, stand at attention, and toe the
Blue Line. Meanwhile, these two upper class OTs come to within inches of my ears (One
on each side), and I'm thinking, "Oh, stink." These two gentlemen begin whispering in
my ears. About what, I can't tell you (I can tell you it wasn't sexual.) At the same time
this female begins screaming some crap about how much of an honor it is to cross the
Blue Line and bla, bla, bla. Then, wait a minute, she just asked me to repeat what she
said! Oh shit, big mistake. After the serious yelling, she begins her speech again. OK,
this time I'll pay attention and get it right. I start spewing the words out, but they're not
coming out right. These damned people whispering in my ears are screwing me up.
Again, the yelling begins. Meanwhile, some other upper classmen makes the mistake of
asking me who I am. So I scream out "SSgt Timothy A. Frey, Sir!" Uh Oh. As the word
SSgt was coming out of my mouth, my brain was saying "You Idiot!" I think I went
unconscious during that yelling spree. From then on out, I became OT Frey. I didn't
make that mistake again. Anyway, the female begins her speech 6 more times before I
finally get it right.
That's pretty much all I remember about my first day at OTS.
Weeks 1 through 3 - The Infamous Talon
The Talon; what a wonderful little handbook. I hope I never see it again. While standing
at the Blue Line, the kind female who was interrogating me, I mean, inprocessing me
handed me this little book. The speech went something like this. "This is the Talon.
The most revered book at OTS. You should feel privileged to receive this book. You will
carry it on you at all times. You will read it at every opportunity and know it. OT you
will now follow Mr. ________. Do not blow anyone off!" How do I know this speech?
You'll see when I become Squadron CC.
From that point until the end of the third week that book got me into more trouble than
almost anything else. Anytime I was standing or sitting that book had to be about an
inch from my eyes covering them so it didn't look like I was looking around, or, God
forbid, eyeballing someone (eyeballing is catching someone's eye with yours -- big
mistake). The only time the book could be down was when I was drinking water from
my canteen. Man, did I get thirsty at OTS.
Once again, my memory failed me. During the little speech, that friendly lady said
something about reading the Talon, which I did. She also said to know it. DOOOOO!
Before I knew it (I think it was day 2) our upper class was calling on people to recite
information from the Talon. People around me were spewing out information that I
didn't even remember reading. Those idiots! Don't they know they're going to make me

3. look bad? Mental note: Start reading and KNOWING the Talon. Thankfully, I didn't get
called on before I could memorize something easy.
I must have had amnesia while at OTS, because I forgot one other important little detail
from her speech. She said something about carrying it on me at all times. Whoops.
Our upper class liked to time-bust us as much as possible. (Time-busting is standing
you outside your door at attention and yelling at you when you could be doing your
required work. Thus, making you stay up past the 11:00 lights-out. Basically, doing
anything to keep you away from your productive work.) One day I thought I was finally
making some progress towards my work. All of the sudden, our upper class came
storming in yelling and screaming for us to get into the hallway. I dropped everything,
made sure my security locker was locked and my lights were out, and jumped into the
hallway at attention. You didn't want to be the last one in the hallway. Son-of-a-stink, I
left my Talon in my room. Guess what? They found it for me. The kind people stood
me at attention and kindly told me what a mistake I made. They emphasized if I was in
the Missile career field and this was a top secret document bla, bla, bla, people dying
bla, bla, bla, my fault bla, bla, bla. I think my ears bled after that one. Needless to say,
I made another mental note and no longer left my Talon behind.
FTO Welcome Day
FTO welcome day is the day when the fun really began at OTS. Before FTO welcome day
I was only being yelled at by the upper class. They couldn't really punish us physically.
Things change after FTO welcome day. No, the upper class couldn't start smacking us
around. In fact, they never got to do anything but yell at us. The FTOs, on the other
hand, were a different breed. Before the welcome day, we heard about them, but they
were just an evil myth. An evil myth that portrayed them as larger and more evil than
Satan himself. They were close with their description.
Let me try to set up the atmosphere for you. FTO welcome day is the day we all meet
our FTO. Our FTO is the officer in charge of our flight. The FTOs were located in one of
the squadron dorms on the entire first floor. The offices weren't numbered and the
names were hard to see, because we weren't supposed to look around. Anytime you
were walking in a hall, you had to brace the wall (stand at attention with your back
against the wall) and greet any individuals who passed with the proper greeting. The
proper greeting was "Good morning/afternoon/evening, Sir/Ma'am." It was a very tense
day that no-one wanted to mess up.
On FTO welcome day, we were all gathered into our flight rooms. (These were rooms we
spent our days going to school. They were basically classrooms.) We were all given a
specific time to be outside our FTO's office door. There was only one problem: They
didn't tell any of us (by design) where that office was located. We knew the building, but

4. we didn't know whether we needed to turn left or right once we entered the building.
God forbid if we were to get lost in the building.
It was my time to go along with two other flightmates. We marched to the building and
went in. The yelling we heard was intense, because not only were we meeting our FTO,
but 20 other people were also meeting their FTO. I marched into the hall and
immediately braced the wall where an officer met me. "GOOD AFTERNOON, SIR!", I
bellowed out, because you had to sound motivated. Hey, it's Lt Sutton. "Did you shave
today, OT?", he barked. "YES, SIR!", I barked back. "Shave closer", he said. I guess that
was his way of saying hi and good luck. At least that's how I took it.
I took a chance and went right. I marched quickly to the first door, looked at it, saw it
wasn't the name I needed and marched on. Fortunately, I found his door without
running into any more officers. My flightmates weren't so lucky. One of them marched
right passed an officer without bracing the wall or greeting. OOOOH, that's going to
hurt. That unfortunate soul's mistake showed me what FTO welcome day was all about.
All I heard was "ON YOUR FACE. HUP, TWO, HUP, TWO. ON YOUR BACK. HUP, TWO,
HUP, TWO." This is where the push-ups began. They didn't end until week three. I've
heard of people doing up to 300 push-ups and 300 sit-ups a day.
While I was waiting outside my FTO's door I was thinking of what I had to do when it was
my turn. First, I knock hard on the door once. Then, I say, "SIR, OT FREY REQUESTS
PERMISSION TO ENTER!" Once he says enter, I march in the door to three feet directly
centered in front of his desk, salute and say, "SIR, OT FREY REPORTS AS ORDERED!"
From there, I listen to his directions. When the meeting is over, I stand up directly
centered in front of his desk and say, "WILL THAT BE ALL, SIR?" He'll say, "That will be
all." I'll salute and give the proper greeting, execute a facing movement, and get the
hell out of there. Don't blow anyone else in the room off!
I think it's my turn. OK, Tim, remember the procedures and make no mistakes! I
knocked as hard as I could and bellowed out, "SIR, OT FREY REQUESTS PERMISSION TO
ENTER!" The next thing I hear is "What are you doing? Can't you see someone else is
already in here!" DOOOOOOOO! "Hup, Two, Hup, Two."
Week six is the transition point in OTS. It's where you're no longer the slimy lower class.
You get to be somebody again (at least from 1600 - 2300). In the two weeks prior to
this, everyone was looking for that perfect job to take over from the upper class. No
one wanted to be stuck with a crappy job. I, on the other hand, was almost certain that
I'd have a crappy job that I didn't want so I didn't even bother looking. I was one of the
few who had a talent coming in to OTS -- I could march a flight. If I could do nothing
else right, I could march and I did it well. I was proud of the fact that when my flight
didn't want to get in trouble that day, they asked me to march the flight. To illustrate

5. this I'll digress for a moment. There was one evening in OTS when we got to go to
OTSAC (basically a rec. center) for the first time. Part of the hazing -- I mean training
-- our upper class gave us was to play baseball marching. Each member of the flight
had an opportunity to march the flight. If you screwed up, you got a strike, you got
yelled at, and you got fired. On the way there, eight of my eleven flightmates got fired.
I was trying to hide, hoping I wouldn't be next. On the way back it was inevitable. I was
the last to go. I started marching and I was doing well. I guess the upperclassmen
didn't like that, so they tried to mess me up. As one would yell at me, the other would
tell me to recite something from the talon. I was getting pissed off. Normally, I would
have recited something easy like the Air Force vision. This time, I wanted to show them
that they couldn't beat me so I recited Article 1 of the code of conduct. As I did that
while marching the flight, you could feel the air being let out of their balloons. Small
victories were the keys to survival.
And now back to the story. There's only one job in the wing that requires you to be able
to march a flight -- Lower Flight Commander (LFC). I acquiesced to the fact that I would
become what we all hated. The LFC is the one who makes your lower class life hell
when the FTOs and TIs have gone home. They're responsible for ensuring you know
how to march, clean your room, wear your uniform right, and get to class on time.
They're the parasites who gnaw at your self-esteem until it's gone. Darn it -- I was
going to be the best LFC OTS had ever seen.
Boards are held to determine who gets the top nine positions and who becomes LFCs in
the wing. There's a squadron board to determine the LFCs and who will be put before
the wing board for the top nine positions. The board members are the current squadron
CC and three LFCs. Four FTOs are in the room as observers. It's like any other board
you've ever seen. You knock on the door, report into the squadron CC, sit at attention,
answer their questions, report out, and leave in a military fashion. Eleven of us went
before the squadron board. Four of us were selected as LFCs, four were selected to go
before the wing board, and three were not selected. As the title of this story explains, I
wasn't selected as an LFC.
There's only one thing to note about the wing board. After the board we were brought
in groups of four to be told what we were. I was going in first with the other three
squadron CCs. The people we were seeing were FTOs and the Major in charge of the
wing. Again, we were supposed to march in, report in, listen, report out, and march out
in a military fashion together. Well, we didn't have time to discuss an exit strategy.
Everything went well until I said post. I turned right and everyone else turned left. All I
remember is the Major saying, "Well this should be good."
I had no idea what the squadron CC was supposed to do, so I decided to make it up as I
went along.

6. Vigilant Warrior
Background Info -- Vigilant Warrior is the culmination of all of the leadership exercises
you've experienced in OTS. It's a weeklong exercise that's designed to put the OT
Wing's leadership skills to the test. It's designed to be as realistic as possible. Vigilant
Warrior is a campsite that must be defended from hostile forces. The TIs and FTOs are
the enemy so they don't help at all. We had to develop, man, and execute the plan by
ourselves. Because I was squadron one CC, I had the lovely title of Security Forces
Commander. The survival of the camp, therefore, rested solely on my shoulders. In the
weeks prior to Vigilant Warrior, the OT Wing received messages via the TIs regarding the
deteriorating relationships with the hostile forces. The messages explained the buildup
of forces, their movement, and our requirements. The way we received the messages
was fun. One or two of the top nine would go to the TIs office, hear the message and
read it if we wanted to, and leave. We couldn't take a copy or take notes. All of the
information we received had to be remembered. We had to set up a mobility processing
line, acquire the necessary gear, and establish a plan.
D-day -- One good thing about OTS is we could determine exactly when we were going
to be mobilized. We spent the entire night before the trip getting everything together. I
knew we were going to go about 0230, because that's when our upper class left. Our
building had the main CQ in it so I was pretty sure that I'd be the first notified of our
mobilization. Being the anal kind of guy that I am, I didn't sleep at all, because I didn't
want anything go wrong. About 0130 I got a gentle knock on my door from a very
frightened lower classman (the lower class isn't allowed to know anything about Vigilant
Warrior until it's their turn to go). He gives me a fragmented message from one of the
TIs, I guess he wasn't paying attention. I go running through the quad (our dorm
buildings were built in a square) playing Paul Revere. I woke up the top nine and we
mobilize. Within 45 minutes we were all (105 of us) formed up outside and ready to
march to the mobility processing station. Two hours later we finally process the line,
because we weren't allowed to start until the TI got there. We loaded the buses headed
for Vigilant Warrior.
Arrival at Vigilant Warrior -- Wow was this a fun part. Once we arrived at Vigilant
Warrior, we were dropped off at the road. We began unloading our packs from the
truck. All of the sudden, we heard these loud voices yelling from a distance. We looked
up the gravel road to see a lot of FTOs running and screaming. Oh shit, what now.
Evidently, we went back to day one without knowing it. The next thing I knew, we had
countless FTOs screaming at us to hurry up, get our packs, and start running. In the
past, I found that as a squadron CC if I were to begin yelling at my people to motivate
them, the FTOs would normally back off. It's easier to hear one of your classmates
yelling at you, because you know it's not personal. I was wrong this time. The yelling

7. only intensified. Once everyone got their packs and kind of had them on, we began
running (not an easy chore with these packs). We ran down the road until we came into
the woods. From there we had to low crawl with our packs at a very fast rate over rocks,
classmates, and whatever else got in the way. (Keep in mind, the FTOs are screaming at
us every step of the way.) When we weren't low crawling we were running. It only took
us about twenty minutes to get to the camp, but it was the longest twenty minutes I've
experienced in a long time. I was getting scared, because I couldn't handle an entire
week of this. Fortunately, that was the end of yelling at OTS. The rest of the time we
were treated better. I guess the trip into VW was a rite of passage.
Vigilant Warrior Layout -- Vigilant Warrior was a campsite in the middle of the woods.
There was a clearing with around 10 large stationary tents. There was a tent of
male/female bathrooms and showers, although no one used the shower until the last
day. There was a mess tent a little way down the road. The TIs/FTOs had a house
directly outside of the campsite that they used as a base camp. (Remember they're the
enemy.)
Vigilant Warrior Daytime Hours -- During daytime hours, the FTOs and TIs were normal.
By that, I mean they were in charge of us. During the day, we completed missions. Each
flight, with their FTO, would receive a mission briefing and we had a certain time limit to
complete the mission. The details are well beyond the scope of this email, so just
picture Rambo going on a mission to rescue soldiers and you'll get the picture. We
carried dummy M-16s, people died and everything. When people died, we had to carry
them out. We could use stretchers or just carry them over our shoulders. I was the
workhorse of the flight. When people died, no one in my flight seemed to be strong
enough to carry them out. No, I wasn't stronger than those in my flight, but I wanted to
get the job done without crying about it. My FTO recognized this on one mission and
decided to kill me and see how long it would take my flight to realize it.
The days were physically demanding. Imagine doing physical conditioning from 0800 to
1600 each day. There were short, usually 15 minute, breaks in between each mission.
Imagine carrying someone all day long -- sometimes running with them lying over your
shoulders. It was rough, but fun. In fact, there was one poor soul -- not from our flight
-- who killed everyone in his flight in the woods. He had to carry them all out one by
one. I felt sorry for him. (Side note: This picture I'm painting may seem very negative,
but it's not. The atmosphere is very positive. Each flight is competing with other flights
to complete more missions. The FTOs are nice as long as you're motivated and follow
the established protocol.)
VW at Night - the fun begins -- Once the daily missions ended we had the rest of the
daylight hours to establish a perimeter, man the perimeter, and eat. Basically, we were
putting my plan to work. We had to have a physical perimeter. By that, I mean we had
to put up some kind of perimeter fence. We used police tape for both an inner and

8. outer perimeter. I won't go into the gory details. I'll simply try to paint a picture of the
events and the atmosphere. Once daylight ended, the fun began. The camp had a
loudspeaker system that the enemy used for psychological warfare. The first night, they
played a radio station that was stuck between Cuban music and a Cuban soccer game.
To say they played it is an understatement. The loudspeaker was so loud that you had
to yell at whomever you were speaking to directly in front of you so they could hear you.
Again, being the anal guy that I am, I stayed up for both shifts just to ensure the plan
was working. (We didn't have time to train a second in command properly, so
empowerment wasn't an option.) The first night went well. We only had ten of our
people killed. (To kill someone you tagged them and said you're dead/you're captured/
etc.) They tried to infiltrate us up to 2300. They'd pull the tape down in one area and
hope that we'd send everyone to that area so they could come in on the opposite end.
We didn't fall into their trap, and consequently, we won that night.
Night number 2 -- The second night, we didn't do so well. I put the same plan into
effect, but with a different team. The first night I had my squadron and squadron four
working the perimeter. Both of our squadrons worked well together, so my plan worked
well. The second night's team wasn't as comfortable with me so they listened to their
squadron CC, who was an idiot. The TIs/FTOs started playing hardball. Instead of the
Cuban music, they played Barbie Girl. Imagine listening to "I'm a Barbie Girl, in a Barbie
world" for six hours continuously at a volume that resembles fingernails screeching
down a chalkboard. In addition to the music, they brought out the vehicles. For our
entry control, we had sandbags stacked to about 3' high. They decided to bring a four-
wheel drive full of FTOs through our ECP. You should have seen the non-prior military
guys wetting themselves. I took my gun along with some of my "special" forces up to
the truck and stood in front of it. They kept yelling for some food. (Remember that
these guys are enemy forces.) In one of our messages, we were told to give them food if
they asked for it. The only thing we had was Zebra Cakes. We gave them what we had,
but they didn't like it. After some more yelling about us insulting them with Zebra
Cakes, they left. Later, Lt Sutton came up to the ECP in a flight suit with a crutch,
claiming to be a downed American Pilot. My gate guards brought him in without
searching him. I immediately stopped them, forced them to put him on the ground so
we could search him. We found two problems. First, the crutch he had was full of
dynamite so I got rid of it. Second, I sat him down on an anthill. All throughout the
interrogation, he kept hopping around because he had ants in his pants. It was
hilarious. At the end of the night we lost 19 people and the FTOs lost 3. This night
went to them. Score: OTs - 1; FTOs - 1
Final Night 3 - the tiebreaker -- The third night the FTOs brought everything they had.
Thank god they didn't play Barbie Girl again or we would have surrendered. That night
they played "Funk Soul Brother" for six hours. If you're not familiar with the song, it
goes "Right about now, Funk soul brother. Check it out now, funk soul brother." It does

9. this constantly for four minutes or so. We actually liked it better than Barbie Girl.
Anyway, within the first 30 minutes they brought the truck out again, but this time they
weren't leaving so easy. Again, I brought some of my forces up to the gate with me to
stop the infiltration. Just as before, I stood in front of the truck and told them to leave
or they would be shot. This time they moved the truck forward and actually hit me! I
don't think they knew that they hit me, but they did. I didn't move though and things
got ugly. This truck had the brightest lights on it. They turned the brights on and the
KC lights so we couldn't see what they were doing. The lights were blinding. Out of the
corner of my eyes I saw my two gate guards get killed. Then I saw my not so "special"
forces get killed. I started calling on the radio for reinforcements, but no one came.
The next thing I knew I was all alone with four or five FTOs. I saw Lt Sutton run into the
camp so I chased him. He saw me and turned around. We had a brief standoff. I dove
for his leg and he slapped me on my back, killing me instantly. I survived two nights of
action only to be killed within the first hour of the most important night. The funny part
is I couldn't tell anyone that I was dead. I had to go to the morgue (the chow hall) and
wait for them to hear that I was no longer alive. It was hilarious listening to the chaos
on the radio as they would call for me, but I couldn't answer. The way they found out
was I had to call down to them and tell some of the recently deceased to come to the
morgue like they were supposed to. I heard the wing commander call the command
post and say, "Kittens Den, who was that on the radio?" Kittens Den responded, "Uh that
was the former SF1." The radio went silent. The night went bad. In about two hours I
had 50 of my classmates with me in the morgue. Eventually, the camp was incinerated
by a nuclear blast.
If I were ever asked about the highlight of OTS, I'd have to say it was Vigilant Warrior. I
don't know if it would have been as fun if I wasn't the Security Forces Commander, but it
doesn't matter now does it.