Friday night was our time off. After the first month, almost all our training was at night and, because of the urgency, we trained on Saturdays and even some Sundays.

One day in October, the training schedule posted on the bulletin board at the entrance to the barracks read, “Friday Night Fights.”

Like any military base, our small compound had a bar where we gathered to have drinks and blow off steam. At the bar, there was a jukebox but every once in a while, they would bring in a band. They did that for us about four times, as I recall.

Sometimes, some young ladies would show up. Looking back, many of us now believe that the ladies who showed up were DOD employees there to see if we would divulge any information about what we were doing. I guess they thought that we single young bucks, after drinking a few beers, might have loose lips. Well we might have been young and filled with alcohol, but we kept our mouths shut.

At the bar, most of the fights were guys just popping off steam from the week of training. I do remember a few good fights. One late Friday night, Sergeant Bass got into a fight and it moved outside the bar. Sergeant Bass was one big boy (about 6’3” and 250 lbs) and the last guy I would want to fight. There, outside the bar, he had a knife in one hand just daring anyone to take it away from him.

Well it wasn’t long until a couple of young Air Force Security Police showed up in their little blue jeep. Now, the two of them couldn’t have weighed more than 130 lbs each. Their job was to disarm Sergeant Bass and take him to the Air Force brig. We thought, This should be fun to watch, and it was.

See the conclusion of this Friday Night Fights story in Who Will Go.

Click Here:  The book.