[49--The Road to Offutt]

Dani's Log:  January 3, 1977

Here I am, on a bus heading for Offutt Aerospace Center.  It's in Nebraska, apparently nowhere.

I miss everybody so much already and it's only 3:15 PM.  And I haven't hit a time change yet.  I think I'm gonna cry.

I looked out the window to watch the miles pass us by.  There was a sign that said,

"State Highway 127

Sweet Springs

Next Exit."

We were passing through Bum-fucked, Missouri.

Every new volunteer for the Peace Corps is in-processed at Offutt.  Exactly what they do there, and why, was a mystery to me, but not as mysterious as the next step.

From Offutt, most new recruits go to Camp Winsome. 

I'm pretty decent in geography, and I can read a map with a little familiarity.  But I'd been poring over my road atlas since December and couldn't find it.  Nor would any recruiter tell me where it was.

It must be the Peace Corps' best kept secret.

I went back to my journal.

Why won't they tell us where Winsome is?  With a name like that, I kinda expect it to be located near the Big Rock-Candy Mountain.

Knowing my luck, it'll be in Devil's Canyon or someplace equally remote and desolate.

What have you gotten yourself into, Dani?

***

We stopped in Kansas City and changed busses after a two-hour layover.

I got myself something to eat, I'd been fasting since breakfast, which was none to substantial to begin with; I'd been upset about leaving.

I was exhausted by the time I settled on the new bus.  We left the bus terminal at 6:30 and by seven, I was out like a light.

I woke up when we stopped in Shenandoah, Iowa.

"What time is it," I asked the woman in the seat beside me.  She was a black woman, in her late-twenties, I'd guess, but travelling with two small children.  They'd gotten on in Kansas City and had apparently been a handful.  I caught snatches of her telling them over and over to behave.

They were sleeping in the seats across from us.

She looked tired—the kind of raggedy sleep-deprived stupor that mothers too often get—she'd have to be dead for a week just to look exhausted.

"It's about nine," she said in a monotonous whisper.

A man with a guitar got off and two larcenous looking teens got on.  They were both girls, I think, and dressed like punk-rockers.  I suspected it was all pretence.

I closed my eyes and tried to nod off again.  The bus started moving again and lulled me into another nap.

***

I don't remember arriving in Omaha, nor transferring to whatever vehicle took us to Offutt ASC.  The next thing I knew, I was shivering in the cold, with my luggage at my feet.  I was on a blacktop parking lot with about twenty other people, all in civvies and all lounging around their bags.

Nobody else was around.

I looked at my watch.  It was 11:00 PM.

There was a beautiful full Moon, bright enough to read by, so I sat down on my suitcase and pulled out my Grip.

Pretty soon, a car pulled up, a blue four-door sedan with no markings but a siren on top.  The driver was in his thirties, and dressed in powder blue fatigues, with the rank insignia of a Master Administrator.

He put on his garrison cap as he approached us.

"No doubt," he addressed us in a perfectly clear voice that was almost loud enough to make my ears ring, "you are all expecting the horrors of Drill Sergeants and Basic Training.  This is the Peace Corps—we're not like that."

He clasped his hands behind his back and continued his lecture.

"Each of you has volunteered for his or her own special reasons.  Offutt is your first stop, and for some of you, your last.

"We are not going to investigate you, or ask about your past, or make you pee in a cup.  We don't care what you did before. 

"But we do care if you're unhealthy or sick, or likely to make others sick.  We need to know you're not carriers of the next Great Plague.

"I am Master Theo Baldwin, and I will be in charge of your in-processing and eventual placement. 

"As much as we don't care about your criminal and social past, we care a great deal about your medical history.  Any one of you whelps who obfuscates, omits, misleads, or tell little-white untruths about a medical condition will be going home, I can assure you of that.  Never lie to me or any medical personnel in the Peace Corps if you wish to remain in its service.

"My assistants will be arriving soon, with more vehicles so we can get you and your baggage to billeting.  We will begin in-processing in the morning.

"I know most of you have had a long day; we'll get you a meal and a hot shower before you sack out tonight."

He looked us over, and his gaze lingered on me.

"Like always, some of you have disregarded our admonitions to bring only what you'll need with you.  You will have a chance to ship the excess off before you head out to Camp Winsome."

"Any questions?"

"Yes," a mousy boy about my age asked.  "Where is Camp Winsome?  What is it like?"

"Good question," he said, smiling an evil smile.  "Any more questions?"

"But you didn't answer mine," the boy protested.

"Noted," Master Baldwin said calmly.  He addressed the entire group.

"You people are soft-bellied, slack-jawed civilians who are used to having your own way.  It's not like that in the rest of the world, and Winsome is there to toughen you up, get you ready for the challenges you're sure to face abroad.

"You'll still be civilians when we're done with you, more-or-less, but we at least hope to cure you of the inimical habit of asking too God-dammed many questions."

"What's inimical about questions," I heard myself asking.  I knew it was me, because none of these others look to know the word.

"Curiosity killed the cat!  Don't you know that?"

"I know that asking honest questions is always better than making up new facts in the face of ignorance."

"You're a smart one, aren't you?  How old are you, Missy?  You look like you should still be in bloomers."

"I'm sixteen, sir."

"Sir?  You don't call me sir, lassie, I work for a living.  You may call me Master, or Master Baldwin."

"Yes, Master."

He smiled.

"Or, if you don't like that...call me Theo."

Three vans pulled up, all the same shade of blue as the car, but without sirens.  Their drivers wore the same uniforms, but none of them was above First Class rank.

"Very good," Master Baldwin announced.  "Your rides are here.  Now help them onto the vans with your gear, and I'll see you bright and early in the morning.  That's all for now, ladies."