Mattress Exchange Day

OK, today I'm just wanting to share a couple of memories. They're anecdotes, really; but you might find them entertaining.

Way back in the day -- 1982 -- I left US Air Force Basic Training to start radio tech school at Keesler Air Force Base in Biloxi, Mississippi.

To my geek friends: Basic Training is NOT where you learn about line numbers and why you should never type GOTO (unless you should). That's BASIC training.

This is the place, roughly as it looked when I arrived (click to embiggen it):

Today it looks a great deal different. Hurricane Katrina washed much of the base away, including almost all of the buildings that housed the training squadrons. These are the weird-looking buildings that are in the triangular area at the bottom-left. They've been replaced with buildings that look depressingly normal.

I was initially assigned to the 3413th Student Squadron, affectionately known as "Animal House", as I was reminded today. We didn't earn the title, but we maintained it with vigor.

FYI, someone in training at Keesler was known as a "pinger", which is actually an acronym standing for "Person In Need of Graduation". As is usual for all places of continuing education, we took it upon ourselves to put those newly arrived students to the test.  Let's not call it "hazing", shall we? That always sounds so crass. I thought of them as fun gags.

One of the gags that had a long tradition was that of "Chief Master Rope". And now you need to know what a "Rope" is. In military tradition, aiguillettes are decorative colored braided cords worn on the shoulder, often by Third World dictators. In the US Air Force they're worn under the epaulet and unobtrusively tucked under the shoulder.

In other countries, and particularly the United Kingdom, they tend to be more prominent. To the left is picture of Prince Harry in splendid regalia at William's wedding. It's either that, or he fell off the dock and onto a trawler and, being in a hurry, just showed up still entangled in the rigging.



At Keesler these devices were worn by student leaders, who were known by the color of their "ropes".

• A Green Rope was also known as a Bay Chief. Each was responsible for a dormitory "bay" in which were housed maybe two dozen Airmen. 
• A Yellow Rope, aka "Floor Rope" was responsible for an entire floor, maybe six or eight bays. This was the best of the student leader positions. I know because I was one.
• A Red Rope, aka "Suck-up" (but only behind his back) was responsible for all of the Yellow Ropes and reported to the Squadron Commander. 
• A White Rope was a chapel guide.
• A Black Rope was on the drill team.
• Blue ropes weren't worn by students... those were instructors.

Augillette of a
"Chief Master Rope"

And now you know. The important ones for this story were the traffic light colors. "Chief Master Rope" (or CMR, a parody of Chief Master Sergeant), was a fictional grade used for the gag. Enterprising jokesters would un-braid one of each of the student leader cords and then braid them back together to form this emblem of super-rank. Then he'd show up in a dormitory bay unannounced and perform a mock "inspection". Of course, everyone would be in the know except for the new guy, who would be quaking in his boots. Of course, he'd be the one singled out. His belongings would be scattered, he'd be yelled at and belittled until at some point he'd be shown mercy. His buddies would come clean about the gag, and everybody would have a good laugh as they helped him put his stuff back in order. It was a protracted form of jumping out and shouting "Boo!"

Of course, The Powers That Be couldn't allow such a thing to continue, lest it be confused with hazing. So by the time I got there, new students were warned of "Chief Master Rope Inspections" during their in-processing, and were encouraged to report such behavior.

Naturally, only a dick would actually report it. Enterprising souls found ways to use these warnings to their benefit. One ingenious solution was "Mattress Exchange Day"...

--==//oOo\\==--

There were many ways to pull this one off, but we started with the old "Chief Master Rope" gag. Of course we knew our victim had been warned, and he was suitably unimpressed by the charade. We nevertheless pretended to be fearful and respectful of our fake boss, while our victim was convinced of how terribly lame it was. And truth be told, the CMR was as lame as we could possibly make him... all dressed up like a cross between General MacArthur and a bag of Skittles.

Then, just when our victim is convinced of the stupidity of it all, an older fellow barges in, preferably in his late twenties or thirties, with no signs of a recent trainee haircut, and with a mustache, wearing civilian clothes. Before he says a word, everyone in sight of him snaps to rigid attention. An almost inaudible "oh, shit" might escape someone's lips.

He never announces his name or his rank -- lying about that could get you discharged. The implication is clear, though, that this is an NCO at the very least or perhaps even an officer. Whoever he is, he's one Important Guy. He demands, "What the hell is going on here?"

And that's when the CMR sees him. SNAP! Attention! Oh, shit, the hat! Off comes the hat! Off come the mirrored glasses, revealing eyes that look as though they have witnessed the fury of God Himself. The corncob pipe clatters to the polished floor.

The victim is perplexed, but he knows that something just went horribly wrong and he's at attention, too, out of sheer reflex. He's straight out of Basic. It's what you do.

And now the "Chief Master Rope" is dressed down thoroughly, and might be made to do pushups or some other fun task, the purpose of which is to convince the victim that this is real.

"You jackasses want an inspection, you'll GET ONE!" bellows the IG, who then turns on his heels into the pinger's room and proceeds to tear it to shreds. Nothing is right about it. Nothing. The poor victim can't even see the mayhem, as he's standing at attention in the hall, facing away.

Once the sheets are torn from the bed, IG lets out a cry of astonished rage:

"You idiot! It's Mattress Exchange Day! Why the hell isn't your g**d*** mattress at the g**d*** CQ?  Get your ass down there!  Move it!  Move it!  Move it!" 

And of course, our completely cowed target would be halfway down the hall before the second "Move it!" with mattress in tow.

We had to stop the poor victim as he was dragging his bedding down the stairs. And we'd come clean about the gag and everybody would have a good laugh as they helped him put his stuff back in order.

Of course, if you really wanted to mess with the pinger again, you could always tell him that it was all a joke except Mattress Exchange Day.  That's next Tuesday.

--==//oOo\\==--

Shortly thereafter I changed shifts and moved to the 3411th. They never did Mattress Exchange Day. Boring.