All the cadets from my detachment who went to 
Field Training with me.

I spent my summer vacation after sophomore year in Texas - at boot camp! Air Force ROTC calls it Field Training (FT) but I imagined it to be no different than what you see in the movies. The scenes that came to mind were of soldiers crawling around in the mud or scaling high walls. Then there were the scenes of troops running for miles on end, stopping only to do push-ups. I also never forgot the scenes in which a drill sergeant was yelling so that drops of spit would land on the poor soldier's face. My friends who had already completed FT agreed there was a lot of physical exercise and maybe yelling, but they never prepared me for what it really was: fun.

Any cadet with an AFROCT scholarship or intent to be a commissioned officer had to attend and pass FT. Cadets were selected to attend based on their performance in ROTC, academic record, physical fitness test (PFT) and even SAT/ACT scores. This selection process ensured that cadets were not only prepared to go to FT, but would also have a high probability of success. Once we got there, we were constantly evaluated on our leadership potential, improvement and ability to work as a team. For me, it wasn't a question of simply passing FT; I knew my final evaluation would be used to determine the career field I go into once I graduated, so I promised myself to pass with flying colors. I was pleased when my Field Training Officer (FTO) informed me that I met my goal. 

A cadet scaling a wall at the obstacle course.

Getting yelled at upon arrival at Field Training.

FTOs are AF officers who teach AFROTC at various universities around the country during the school year, and spend their summer with cadets at FT. At my encampment, they taught us about Air Force culture and military professionalism, and were our ultimate evaluators. Another group of people who trained us were Cadet Training Assistants (CTAs). They are outstanding ROTC cadets who already completed field training and were invited to return to camp to help with training. They taught us how to march, led us in exercises and inspected our uniforms and living areas. It is a privilege to be a CTA but not a privilege to know one as a cadet in training because we were often yelled at by them. Both FTOs and CTAs were very instrumental in our development as leaders throughout the entire encampment. 

There was a Chinese-American female CTA at FT, and we both happened to have the same last name. This created confusion for many people throughout the camp. I was overjoyed when I received my first piece of mail, thinking someone had written to me but utterly disappointed to see that it was actually for CTA Lin. The mail room assumed there was only one person who had the last name Lin, although our first names were clearly different. Our last name is one of the most common Chinese last names in the world, yet I found myself constantly telling people that we were not sisters or otherwise related. I'm sure no one asked Cadet Williams if CTA Williams was his brother. 

The most memorable name-confusion incident occurred within the second day of FT. I was in line to get food for lunch, facing the counter, standing ramrod straight with my eyes focused on an invisible spot on the wall behind the lady who was serving me food. All of the cadets were standing silently in a similar position, shoulder to shoulder, moving only to step side-ways as cadets at the head of the line received their food and sat down. A senior officer was standing behind me, chatting with his peers when he suddenly turned and faced me. He asked in a jolly voice, =How are you doing CTA Lin?= There are subtle uniform differences CTAs and cadets, but he probably only noticed my nametag. I didn't know what to do, and was afraid to answer him. After all, I didn't want to get in trouble for answering to someone else's name. Perhaps he figured it out, because he said nothing more when I didn't respond and side-stepped away from him. 

Cadets standing shoulder to shoulder for lunch.

During our four weeks at FT, we had to forgo many of the privileges we take for granted, including our first names. Everyone was only addressed by their last names and hearing my first name for the first time in several weeks was music to my ears. We couldn't listen to real music and had no TV, but that didn't really bother me. I was rarely allowed to watch TV due to my parents' zeal for good study patterns throughout my youth, so I never developed a habit of watching regular TV. We had no means to obtain newspapers, so we really had no idea what was going on outside the confines of Lackland AFB. However, it wasn't as if we had any free time to read or watch TV anyway. Any spare moment was spent cleaning the dorms and anyone who just sat around without contributing was poorly evaluated. I hated the fact that I gave up my long, hot showers in exchange for minute-long, cold showers. The greatest complaint that I heard from my friends was not being able to eat dessert. Our normal meals at the dining facilities never included dessert, and I must admit it helped to come from a Chinese background at this point. While my peers were craving sugar, I never missed it. How can you miss sweets when your mother's idea of dessert was fruit and red bean soup? 

These were petty sacrifices, but I saw that the best way to earn and appreciate freedom was to give it up. Seeing it in that perspective kept me motivated during those four weeks, and it made FT more meaningful for me. Boot camp is a unique experience for anyone who goes through it and as tough and sometimes painful as it was for me, I had fun the entire time.