In military speak, they're called S9s; the glasses you receive as part of your uniform when you arrive for basic training. BCGs are virtually indestructible, but if you do happen to break a pair, that's okay, they issue two pairs to every near or far-sighted soldier.
They're made of thick plastic frames and thick (depending on how blind you are) plastic lenses. They're brown (so they go with the dirt you'll soon be rolling in), squarish and not very pretty. If you manage to get a particularly grouchy military optometrist, they will cover the entire surface of the upper half of your face, and magnify your eyebrows (which they don't allow you to groom during basic training). If that isn't a recipe for birth control, I don't know what is.
This is a solemn ode to my sweet, sweet Birth Control Glasses (a.k.a BCGs). I heard an NPR story this week that the S9 is being retired for a sleeker, Buddy Holly retro look, and it made me think of my BCGs. They are the center of my funniest basic training memories.
I went to basic training at Ft. Leonard Wood, located in "the beautiful south central Missouri Ozarks."(That's a direct quote from the Ft. Leonard Wood website.) That's right...I've been to center of the Missouri Ozarks and survived. My primary memory of the place is brown. The color brown dominated the landscape, and seemed to be the color of all the buildings and I blended right in with my BCGs.
About half-way through training, in the cold of January, our company was marching out from having morning chow. The asphalt was covered in slick spots from recently melted and re-frozen snow. When you march, you look straight ahead - not at your feet or the ground ahead of you. The dozens of trainees ahead of me in formation marched right over the ice without issue. I have a sixth sense for opportunities to be klutzy and off I went.
I remember flying through the air like Superman (I hope it looked that graceful). My arms out ahead of me, feet behind me as I floated like a magic carpet through my uniformed colleagues. I'm sure it was more like a bowling ball bursting through the pins on a strike, but I prefer to remember it with me flying lightsomely in the air. And so I crashed. Into a pile of people on the asphalt. Everyone was fine, but I ended up with scrapped hands, bloodied chin, blackened eye and...broken BCGs.
Success! One pair gone to BCG heaven.
The head drill sergeant for my platoon was on leave that day, and when he returned he asked, "Nyberg, why do you have a black eye? Did you get into a fight?"
"No drill sergeant." I replied.
"What the hell happened to you then?" he asked.
"I fell and my glasses gave me a black eye, drill sergeant." I answered.
"Dammit Nyberg, I was hoping you'd tell me you got into a fight! Drop and give me ten for falling!" He ordered.
Not long after this, we had to go through the dreaded gas chamber. Basically, you learn to be able to put on and seal your gas mask in nine seconds or less. These are the steps:
- Stop breathing and close your eyes.
- Open carrier and grab the mask.
- Place your chin in chin-pocket of the face-piece.
- Clear the mask.
- Tighten straps and adjust.
- Resume breathing.
Simple, right? Try adding "doff your glasses" as step two. I passed, but mainly because they had all the BCG nerds take off our glasses for the test.
At the end of the training cycle, we went out in the field for two weeks. This was the grand finale of basic training; where we put together all of the skills we'd learned. Field training was the drill sergeants' favorite part of the cycle. Why? Because they could toss canisters of CS gas (tear gas) at us whenever they wanted. We were almost real soldiers and therefore fair game.
So there we were, in formation and ready to receive orders for the next maneuver. Our drill sergeant was looking over his task list when without warning,"terrorists" (rather drill sergeants dressed as such) armed with canisters of gas jump out of the bushes. One of the canisters landed at my feet.
Instinct instantly kicked in and remembering step two, I tossed my glasses to the ground. But. having forgotten step one, I was unable to breathe and so teared up I didn't know what to do. In the process I stepped on my glasses. Eventually, my buddies helped me with my mask and I found my busted BCGs, one of the arms broken off and a lens cracked.
I was able to keep them together with some tape for the rest of field training, and tossed them after we got back to our barracks for graduation, opting for the pair I had fallen in that was "less broken."
I still have them, nearly a decade later in my Army memorabilia stash...my sweet, sweet BCGs.
