Are We In Hell?

**This is the ongoing story of becoming a police officer in my forties and then becoming The Bad Luck Detective. It’s best to start with the first post.

Day two began at 0430 hours, a squad leader knocked on our door the previous evening to inform us we needed to meet before physical training (PT), and try to straighten up our marching and formations. Some of us also needed to learn a few more basic commands.

We were in front of the dorms at 0445. It was already warm. We lined up and the space beside me was noticeably empty. Another cadet asked where my partner was. I explained what happened the evening before. Everyone moved down one spot.

Stacy was one of two cadets to skip out the first day. The other was a male cadet from squad three. It was at this point that I swore to myself I would complete the academy. I had never given up on anything and I wouldn’t begin now. I was not a quitter.

We marched and learned things like: about face, quarter turn, marching while turning a corner, and standing at attention with our toes pointing out so the Sergeant could stand between our feet and inspect us up close and personal.

It was time to march to PT. As much as I would come to dread our early morning workouts, the marching was great. We marched and sang to cadence. One of the cadets fresh out of the military knew every cadence imaginable. They were funny, entertaining and inspiring. Our voices rang across the campus.

Sgt. Dickens was waiting when we arrived. The yelling began and we were introduced to our PT instructor Sgt. Listberg. He turned out to be a great guy but we weren’t aware of this on the first day. After warm ups we went on our first run. Sgt. Listberg told us it would be the last mile we ever ran at the academy. He was correct. Wednesday we ran two miles.

It soon became apparent I was a slow runner and I was put in front to keep the pace. Another female, Cadet Higgins was put in front beside me as well. She ended up dropping back due to her asthma and barely finished the mile run. I finished but could tell my pace did not offer a challenge to the other cadets. I knew I had work to do.

We were then taken into the weight room and put through Sgt. Listberg’s idea of a power workout. There were thirty-one torture stations set up. The only good thing Sgt. Listberg did was turn on some great 70’s rock and roll. Every sixty seconds he blew his whistle and we moved to another station. Arms, legs, wrists, butts and thighs were all worked out. After this we were taken to the gym bleachers and made to jump with both feet together to the top, where we ran back down and began jumping again. This went on until the end of class. Do you have any idea how your teeth clack when you land on both feet? My head was killing me. We double timed it back to our dorms, changed into our shirts and ties, and headed to breakfast.

Eating was again a difficult task. God forbid we spilled anything on our white ironed shirts, it would mean changing before inspection. I did manage to get some food in my mouth using my shaking arms and hands. The three female cadets sat together and a few male cadets joined us. Our “clicks” were already forming. Cadet Chavez sat next to me. He was obviously as stressed as I was. I found out he was an emergency medical technician sent to the academy in order to be part of a SWAT team. He was twenty-seven years old, fifty pounds overweight and worried about what he’d gotten himself into. He was told the academy would be a piece of cake, but he was having doubts. I agreed and we made a pact to complete the academy and help each other out. We weren’t such an unlikely friendship, we were both in over our heads and both needed to lose weight. It felt great to have a friend and he was also in squad five along with me. We would suffer together.

Our first inspection was horrible. Sgt. Dickens along with all six squad advisers were in attendance to find something wrong. Our ties were the improper length, our shoes were not shined to high gloss, we had lint on our black pants, and several of the guys did not have a close enough shave due to shaving the night before and not this morning. In all we were given eighty pushups and six hill runs. The pushups were done on the spot and the hill runs would be executed after class. I found out why we practiced a duck stance that morning. Sgt. Dickens placed one foot between my boots, put his face an inch from mine and began the inspection from the top of my head down to my toes. I know my last OBGYN appointment was not this thorough.

It was a relief to enter our classroom and begin learning. The first two hours every Monday would be with Lieutenant Griffin for report writing. He talked and told stories more than he taught us report writing but we enjoyed him tremendously. Our binders were explained to us. A schedule was located in the front of the first binder and encompassed the entire eighteen weeks of the academy. Our lesson plans were outlined, which explained the four inch thickness of the binders. We were told we would get a break every hour but most importantly we were not to fall asleep in class. We could stand up in the back of the room but there would be hell to pay if one of us was caught sleeping.

Our first lesson was on the history of policing. Robert Peel created the first organized police unit called “Bobbies” in 1929. He was our founding father and his ideas lived on today, in modern policing.

We were given a lunch break and then went back to the classroom. Sgt. Dickens stuck his head in and did some yelling on a regular basis but learning was the focus. We had different instructors for different lecture modules. My brain wanted to explode by the end of that first day in class. I actually wish it had, because waiting for us were our six hill runs we’d earned at morning inspection.

We double timed it over to the bottom of the hill which consisted of a quarter mile dirt path which curved back and forth up to a water tower. It was steep, rocky and looked like a nightmare. We started up. I was the second to last person to the top on the first run. We were all going at our own pace. It was 109 degrees outside. We had water bottles at the bottom and took drinks between runs. One of my roommates slipped and fell. She twisted her knee and sat out the last few trips to the top.

We hadn’t noticed but Sgt. Dickens showed up as I was taking my last hill run.

“What the hell are you doing?” He yelled at the cadets at the bottom waiting for us stragglers to finish.

“Are you individuals or a team? I want your punishment done as a unit. Start over and get it right this time.”

Before reaching the halfway point Higgins, Chavez and me turned around and went back for our classmates. We formed two lines and ran six more hill runs together. We were then released for the day. I was too tired to eat and went back to my room. I ironed my shirt for the following day, tried to shine my shoes but fell asleep. I slept until 0430 hours the next day, woke up, and did it all again. We were give 110 pushups at morning inspection and ten hill runs. I could barely move my arms during class and taking notes was excruciating. I thought Friday would never come. I was gigged for my boots every day. Our class could do nothing right.

My thinking began to change that week. I had always respected the police but my admiration was growing for them as well. We were constantly under stress. It was explained it was similar to what it would be like as an officer on a patrol shift. Being a police officer was stressful as well as deadly and if we couldn’t handle it we needed to leave. It was not shameful to decide this was not right for you. It was smart.                      

I struggled with my decision to become a police officer on a whim. Did I have what it would take? Could I handle the stress?

Friday finally came and we were released at 1600 hours. I was too tired to make the drive home. I called my husband and begged his forgiveness. I spent the weekend working on my shoes, typing my notes and organizing my binders. Sunday evening at 2000 hours we had a study group in our classroom. All but two cadets showed up. The two missing didn’t show up for PT on Monday morning as well. They had decided being a police officer was not right for them. My roommate with the hurt knee was one of the two not returning. I was down to one bunkmate. The bathroom schedule became much easier.

Cadet Donna Higgins, Rocco Chavez and I were becoming a team. We were the slowest, most un-police like cadets at the academy and we bonded. We weren’t treated badly by other cadets but we knew they didn’t think we would make it. Our first classroom test was the next day. If we didn’t pass, the decision to stay would be taken out of our hands.