I enter this desolate CITY through a gate; a guard greets me with a

     wave. A few cars going a bare minimum of twenty miles per hour

     stop at every intersection. Green, black, brown and tan are the

     colors of the clothes worn here. Rows of old two story, abandoned

     HOUSES built during W.W.II could fall over if the wind blows

     strong enough. They run east and west or north and south. Finding

     the correct HOUSE is not so hard; they all have number plates

     nailed to each side - even numbered HOUSES on the right - odd on

     the left. Driving past the chapel which once had a full

     congregation, I see a rusted sign which reads, "Go to BLDG. 1030."

     The local miniature mall contains several small establishments

     ranging from department stores to rent-a-cars. Small green signs

     with white letters and arrows point me to my destination.

     "FEMALES ONLY", the welcome sign on the front door. Two

     steel doors with wire meshed windows are propped open like a

     book. Three feet inside are two more doors: warped, wood frames;

     old, dusty screens; and a rusted spring in the middle to close each

     door with a slam. Bulletin boards on the right wall with dusty

     papers of out dated CITY events flap in the breeze. "NO

     SMOKING" signs plastered on every wall. The bathroom used by

     all occupants is separated in three sections. Pipes running in every

     direction, even across the middle of the walls. Four enamel sinks,

     just below waist high, with rusted water spots line two walls of this

     room. Chipped or cracked mirrors above each sink. A long,

     painted wood plank above the sink shows years of use. One washer

     and one dryer placed against the wall with the thick double glass

     windows. The shower room is not for the discrete. A wide open

     room, six pipes run down the wall, obsolete shower heads that

     trickle water all the time. A single bench for all to put their shower

     items on, in order to keep them dry from the run away showers.

     Six toilets are thankfully separated by walls, and have shower

     curtains for doors. "OUT OF ORDER" signs pinned to two of the

     curtains. Floors of cement are cold to bare feet, mostly painted

     battleship gray, chipped around the edges. The musty and foul

     smell of an outdated water system resembles ancient outhouses.

     One long, rectangular, sleeping room for thirty people. The room is

     sectioned off by partitions made of cold, pale green, metal on the

     bottom, and ribbed greenhouse plastic on top. Each section has

     steel bunk beds, the mattresses appear to be full of dust. Warped

     and dented wall lockers are used to secure personal belongings.

     Some have shelves and old hangers left over from the previous

     occupant, and latches for a lock.

     I climb the rickety stairs that let out a different noise with each

     step. The top floor has the same layout except for the four small

     efficiency APARTMENTS that are above the bathroom and

     entrance way. One is mine.

     Each APARTMENT, a 12 x 12 room, contains a bed, a wall locker

     with shelves, a desk or table, one or more straight chairs, a soft

     comfortable chair, two windows, one or more electrical outlets and

     last but not least, a door that closes tightly and can be locked.

     A sign hung on the door reads, "SO THIS ISN'T HOME SWEET

     HOME... ADJUST". This is to be HOME for two long grueling

     weeks. Furniture must be rearranged to resemble the comfort of a

     HOME. The bed is along the windows; the wall locker separates the

     door and room. The table with a straight chair underneath is

     against the wall; the other is in a corner. The soft comfortable chair

     is at the end of the bed.

     Nothing is moved in until this dust pit of a home is cleaned.

     Pinesol - a solution that has separated in the bottle due to lack of

     use, a sponge - gray with crud, dry and crusty, a broom - half it's

     bristles gone and shortened by abuse over the years, and a mop -

     straggling strings of gray tangled in a nest of knots, the room

     smells and looks better, but it's still not a HOME.

     Belongings are unpacked on the bed. A fan is put on the chair in

     the corner, three feet tall and rotating; it keeps the warm air

     circulating causing a delightful breeze throughout this

     APARTMENT. The compact kitchen and dining area are set up on

     the table. A TV/RADIO/TAPE player is on the table, tuned into

     country and western or oldies, the only two channels in this

     northern region. Next to the TV is a jar of instant coffee, a silver

     spoon and a coffee mug turned upside down on two paper towels.

     Boxes and bags of junk food are set up on the table - still not quite

     like a HOME. The bedroom area, complete with bed, wall locker,

     soft chair fills the rest of this APARTMENT. Clothes are hung up

     in the wall locker, green stuff on the left, others on the right.

     Brown clothes are shoved on one shelf, the other shelves hold

     miscellaneous belongings. A small woven rug lies beside the bed on

     the cold floor. A small ashtray sits hiding on the window sill. The

     one man width bed that has a yellow stained mattress cover, is

     made with some comfort of a HOME. The soft, generic leather,

     chair is covered by a blanket throw. This looks more like HOME.

     Paper thin walls allow the sound to travel throughout this HOUSE;

     voices, music, doors slamming, toilets flushing, all can be heard

     clearly.

     So it is not "Home Sweet Home" for two weeks. At least it has

     some comforts of HOME.

 A description of life at Annual Training! How would you like to spend two weeks in a place like  this? I do every year.