Jim bumped into me from behind, knocking me forward. I turned around. His expression showed he was as surprised as I was. Had we wandered into the wrong place, or—

“Remove your clothing and place it with your newly issued uniforms in the back cubbyholes!” a corporal yelled. “Then assemble in rows for your physical examination!”

Both of us, as well as Johnnie and a couple of other guys, walked toward where the corporal was pointing. Men were already there, some undressing and others, who I assumed had finished their examinations, getting re-dressed, but this time in their uniforms!

I picked out a cubby at the end of the row, a few away from anybody else. This was not feeling very comfortable at all.

I placed my uniform in the cubby and then sat down on the bench and pulled off my shoes, not bothering to untie them. Next came my shirt and pants. I was so grateful that I had on new underwear. I stood up and wiggled out of them, placing them on top of my other clothing.

I felt a sudden rush of embarrassment. Where was I supposed to look? Where was I supposed to put my hands? Jim was already walking toward the back rank. I didn’t want to lose him, so I took my list, put my head down, and started walking.

A corporal appeared right in front of me. There was a confused look on his face. “Acey-deucey, are you afraid of catching a cold?”

“What, Corporal?” I asked.

He pointed down. I was still wearing my socks! I lifted my leg, reached down, and grabbed one, pulling it off, and then the second, while hopping, almost stumbling, but still keeping my balance. I tossed them back at my cubbyhole and they both went in!

I joined a row of six men, Jim on one side of me, Johnnie on the other. In front of us was another row of equally naked men standing at ease—although I didn’t imagine anybody was feeling much ease or comfort.

Standing there in the buff, on the concrete floor, with a breeze blowing in through the windows at the top of the walls, I wished I could have kept my socks on. I shifted slightly from foot to foot, which I noticed other people were doing as well. I had to fight the urge to hold the sheet of paper with my list directly in front of me in a vain attempt at a little bit of privacy and dignity.

There was no conversation, and as I risked a glance around, I saw that everybody else was staring at the ground in front of them. I obviously wasn’t the only person finding this less than comfortable.

A man—equally naked—came through a door at the front. It opened from a small cubicle, and inside was a man wearing a laboratory coat. I guessed that was the doctor.

A man in the first row was called forward and ushered through the door. The aircraftman in the second row stepped forward to take his place. There were three other doors, and I watched as men moved in and out of those as well, until finally it was my turn.

I walked into the little cubicle, nervous, but grateful not to be standing out in the big room any longer.

“Name?” the doctor asked as he took my list from me.

“McWilliams … David, sir.”

I liked the fact that the last name was always said first in the military. McWilliams was my last name and I wasn’t going to stumble over that. But I was worried that I might accidentally blurt out Robert or Robbie instead of David.

“Do you have any medical conditions?” the doctor asked.

“No, sir.”

“Are you on any medications, do you have any allergies, or have you had any medical operations?”

“No, sir, to all of those.”

As he was asking the questions, he was looking in my ears with a light and poking me in my gut and sides with his fingers. I assumed he wasn’t doing that just to irritate me or amuse himself.

He took the stethoscope that was around his neck, placed the ends in his ears, and started listening to my heart. Well, at least that’s what I figured he was doing, because he was moving it all over my chest area. He circled around and started to tap me on the back and sides.

“Okay, son, you’ve passed your physical,” he said, and he handed me back my sheet, with a dozen new sets of initials on it.

“Thank you, sir.”

I walked back into the waiting area, where fifteen or twenty pairs of eyes glanced up and then returned their gaze to the floor again. I made my way back to the cubbies, and I can honestly say that I’d never been so grateful to be pulling on my underwear. I reached for the rest of my clothing and then stopped. I wasn’t supposed to be putting on my clothing—I was supposed to be getting into my new uniform!

I slipped on the pants. Bluish-tinged wool—the colour of the air force. It was rough to the skin, but it felt good to put them on. It wasn’t just about being allowed to get dressed at last; it was about what I was getting dressed in. This was the beginning of my new life. Once I’d put on the uniform, I was no longer a seventeen-year-old kid escaping boarding school; I was an acey-deucey … an aircraftman second class.

“Hurry up! People are waiting for your spot!” the corporal screamed, and I jumped back into action.

I pulled on the shirt and buttoned it up, then I pulled on the pants. They were a bit loose, which I figured was better than too tight. I followed up with the socks. I stood up. The pants were a bit long, the cuffs dragging on the ground, but once I put on the boots, I figured they’d be fine. I slipped my foot into the first boot. It was a bit tighter than I would have liked, but it fit. I did the same with the second boot and then tied the laces.

Now for the final touch. I took the wedge cap and placed it on my head. I adjusted it, trying to find a comfortable place where it would fit and sit.

“Here, let me help you,” Jim said.

I hadn’t even noticed him there. He was dressed— although his pants ended a good two inches above the tops of his boots. I thought about asking him if he was expecting a flood, but I decided I was the last person in the world to bother anybody about their height.

He took the cap and adjusted it so it was sitting more off to the side of my head.

“That does it. Now you look like a proper acey-deucey. You might even want to go back to see that nurse. You know what they say: women love a man in uniform.”

“Maybe later. What’s next on the list?”

“Eye examination. I’ve never been one for school, but that’s one examination I’m pretty sure I can pass.”

Jim asked a corporal for directions, and we hurried away only to once again find ourselves at the back of a long line. This was really starting to become a pattern. As we waited, there was a lot of good-natured conversation, laughter, and jokes. Everybody looked pretty proud of their new uniforms, and it seemed as though we were all standing just a little bit straighter, a little taller—even me.

I shuffled forward with the line as one by one each man had his eye exam, until it was my turn, right after Jim. I handed my sheet over to the corporal in charge.

“Close your left eye,” he said, “and use your right eye. Can you read the third line?”

“Sure. L … E … F … O … D—”

“Are you blind, son?” he demanded. “That’s not the third row.”

“Sure it is … Oh, wait, do you mean the third from the top or the bottom?”

“The top.”

“Sorry, I was counting up from the bottom. Do you want me to read the bigger letters first?”

“Forget it. You only needed the seventh row and that’s the eleventh. Can you do the same with your other eye?”

I read the letters out easily. “Do you want me to do the bottom line as well? I can do it if you want.”

“No need to test your eyes any further. You’ve got the eyes of an eagle.”

I wanted to tell him that was what a pilot needed, but I stayed quiet as he handed me back my list, complete with more initialled spaces.

“Thank you, Corporal.”

I joined Jim, who was waiting at the door.

“Next up is grooming,” he said.

“Grooming? What does that mean?”

Jim removed my cap and ran his hand over my scalp, making a buzzing sound, and suddenly I got it: we were going to have our hair buzzed off! I guessed that wasn’t the worst thing. But then again, if I couldn’t grow a moustache to change my appearance and look older, I wasn’t sure that cutting off my hair would help much either. I’d still look young, but now with no hair.

I turned over on my side and my arm screamed out a reminder of the injections. I shifted again to relieve the pain and make my arm go back to simply feeling numb. Then I sat up in bed and slowly brought my deadened arm, which felt like a piece of lead, up to my head to run my hand over the stubble where my hair used to be. Gone were the long locks, and all that was left was prickly to the touch. At least my cap fit better now.

All around me in the darkness were hundreds and hundreds of men. Judging from the snoring, most of them were sound asleep. I was tired—no, I was exhausted—but I couldn’t seem to drift off. It had been such a long day, such a different day, from the injections to the medicals, the issuing of the uniforms and the “housewife.”

What a disappointment to learn that a housewife was only a box containing polish for our boots as well as buttons, needles and thread, and other things we’d need to keep our kits spic and span. I’d already put mine to good use. Before we turned in, Jim had let down the cuffs of his pants, giving him another inch of material, and I’d taken mine up so they wouldn’t drag along the ground.

I couldn’t help thinking that my mother would be pretty amused if she heard about me fixing my own pants like that. Then, strangely, I thought about what that would look like in a letter home.

Hello Mom, just wanted to tell you about fixing the trousers of my air force uniform … Oh, by the way, I’ve run away from boarding school and am now in the air force … Say hello to everybody at home … Lots of love … Your son who was called Robert but now is known as David.

Maybe I was getting a little punch-drunk from not having slept. I rolled over on my side, my left arm to the top this time, and tried to think of something that would help me get to sleep. My mind’s eye focused on that nurse—Nurse Johnson. She was very pretty, and even if she did flirt with half the men on the base, I was still part of the half she flirted with. I wondered what her first name was. Probably something pretty. Maybe I’d even find out.