Surviving WOCS: A Guide to Applying for the Warrant Officer Candidate School

Are you thinking about becoming a warrant officer? If so you might want to check out this new book by CW4 (R) Jim Boroch. Chief has compiled years of experience and expertise into a quick and easy read how-to book. He includes personal experience and a few comical war stories along the way. My favorite part of the book is when he explains what to expect when you arrive at school. Here is a glimpse into the book…

First 3 Minutes

I checked my watch, mentally cataloging the time as 1442. It was sweltering hot outside and the air conditioning was `straining to keep the car interior below 95 degrees. I rifled through my dog eared processing papers for what must have been the 100th time, mentally checking off the pages against the WOCS checklist propped up on the glove box door. My Class A’s itched, and I felt the sweat beads roll down my back. I recently changed out of my jeans and t-shirt 4 miles up the road at the Enterprise gas station and I could sense the humid October heat was causing the uniform’s creases to sag. The Sun sparkled off the highly polished brass in the WOCS courtyard, causing my eyes to squint. Across the quad a more eager candidate, similarly dressed, casually cut across the grass to the 1st WOCS HHC orderly room door. I noticed his Class A’s sagged a few degrees more south than mine, no doubt due to the harsh Alabama sun’s direct exposure. I noticed his 82nd Airborne combat patch, polished combat boots, airborne wings and maroon beret. I saw we had the same Staff Sergeant rank on our sleeves and that he had a few more awards than I. This guy would be competition for Distinguished Honor Grad.

A TAC Officer rounded the corner and immediately took up an intersecting course with SSG Airborne. I watched intently, having only heard rumors of TAC Officers, to see how this meeting went. The TAC Officer wore a black baseball style cap, black t-shirt, starched BDUs, and possessed a skull piecing stare that totally fixated on SSG Airborne. Before SSG Airborne could say “Good Afternoon, Chief” the TAC Officer pounced on him, disregarding the in-processing paperwork in his right hand. You never, ever, carried anything in your right hand, I learned later on. “What do we have here?” shouted the TAC Officer, his clear, mocking, sing-song voice cutting the afternoon haze like a knife blade. “Someone wants to be an NCO!” Like the howling of a wolf call to the pack, 8 TAC Officers appeared from nowhere and encircled the confused candidate. In a flash he was on his back, on his stomach, doing flutter kicks, pushups, mountain climbers, dying cockroaches, the commands shouted at him like the retort of a 50 Cal machine gun on full auto. Within moments his Class A’s, moments before proudly displaying his military achievements, were soaking up the red Alabama clay like an old sponge. SSG Airborne, to his credit, gamely counted off the repetitions, his voice barely audible over the staccato retort of barked commands.

As quick as I could I ripped the now offending Staff Sergeant stripes off my sleeves, picking the green threads off and trying to smooth down the vacant incriminating needle holes. The sweltering heat in the car, now benefiting me as an impromptu dry cleaner, steamed the wool fabric flat. The proud day I earned the rocker on those chevrons was now just a vague memory. I gathered my paperwork, killed the car’s ignition and as quietly as possible pocketed my keys so as not to draw undue attention my way. I picked a route to the orderly room door that could only be described as nap-of-earth navigation, staying downwind and keeping to the low laying areas and shadows. I avoided all eye contact with the TAC Officers who were momentary distracted with their prey. As I triumphantly crossed the HHC door’s threshold I couldn’t resist the urge of one more glance at SSG Airborne. The sweat was pouring down his now red face as he gathered his scattered papers and beret from the ground and attempted to straighten his disheveled uniform. As suddenly as they appeared the TAC Officers disbanded, their need for utter dominance temporally sated. One TAC Officer caught my eye and his grin said it all, “Don’t worry, you’re next!” A glance at my watch reveled it was now 1445. My first 3 minutes of induction to the Warrant Officer Candidate School was complete.

NOTE: Currently Candidates report to WOCS wearing ACUs and Patrol Cap. I recommend you remove rank for the Patrol Hat and ACU jacket before signing in.