The indoctrination began the moment the police Explorers arrived at the Ben Clark Public Safety Training Center.

No pleasantries here. No chitchat either. Grandfatherly smiles? Forget about it.

Life at the annual Riverside County Law Enforcement Explorer Academy was tough.

Seventy-eight teen-agers and young adults survived the weeklong boot camp Saturday and graduated in a ceremony held at Canyon Springs High School in Moreno Valley. Two didn't make it.

"They had their mettle tested and they came through," said William Reynolds, the chief deputy who heads the training center. "It was physically enduring and mentally challenging. They voluntarily gave up a week of their summer to put themselves through it. You can't say enough good things about them."

Throughout their week of hell, drill instructors rode herd over the 14- to 21-year-old Explorers, who enrolled to get an insider's view of law enforcement. They double-timed Explorers through calisthenics and inspected rooms and uniforms looking for dust and dirty shoes.

And they found plenty to correct.

One Explorer turned in a report late; he and members of his squad did 40 push-ups for punishment. Another used his ear as a pencil holder; 50 extra push-ups resulted. One wore his uniform T-shirt backwards. He got a jester's cap -- with three tassels and bells -- as a reminder of the need to keep in sync with his mates. For three days, whenever he moved, everyone knew it.

From dawn to dusk, it seemed, training officers chided the Explorers to listen up, hustle it, get a move on, quit clowning around and stop goofing off.

"Absolutely, this has been the toughest experience of my life," said Sara Hellam, 17, of Hemet, one of those who passed muster and graduated. "I have never been yelled at so much in my life or done so much physical training. I was so amazed. I had no expectation of what it would be all about. I was blown away by it."

The regimen isn't about humiliation, instructors say. It's about building teamwork and cooperation. On the streets, police must forget about individuality and function as a unit, whether it's working an accident scene or looking for a murder suspect.

"Teamwork is essential," sheriff's Sgt. Jerry Gutierrez, who ran the daily physical training schedule, told the Explorers during a pre-dawn workout. "A team is only as strong as its weakest link. Failure is not an option."

The Explorers came from Riverside, Corona, Moreno Valley, Temecula, Hemet, Palm Springs, Indio and a half dozen other places in Riverside County. Many came from low-income families. They arrived a week ago at the training center on the grounds of March Air Reserve Base.

They spent the week in dormitories, two to a room. There was no television or telephones. No pagers or cell phones allowed. No boyfriends or girlfriends. No visitors. They came to attention whenever an instructor or duty officer walked past. Any time they addressed a member of the training staff, they began and ended their sentences with "sir" or "ma'am."

Their day started at 6 a.m. with stretches, sit-ups, push-ups, stomach crunches and running. Their shirts turned dark with sweat; pain wrote itself on their faces. Lights out took place at 10 p.m. In between, they marched, shot guns at the firing range, took in 15 lectures about issues and problems facing law enforcement every day, watched demonstrations with a police dog and helicopter, and examined a clandestine drug lab.

And every step of the way, sworn officers who acted as drill instructors barked orders and kept everybody on their toes.

"This is what you asked for!" Gutierrez yelled in cadence as he led the formation on an early morning jog through a field at the training center. "Riverside County Explorer Corps!"

Some Explorers reveled in the tough training.

"I like the yelling, I like the push-ups," said Josh Martuszewski, 17, of Lake Elsinore. "It's discipline. It's part of a mind game. They don't do it because they hate you. They want you to learn when you go on the street."

Fernando Gonzalez, 16, of Indio, also welcomed the no-nonsense approach.

"If we go to a real police academy, we're going to have an edge," he said. "It's easy to sleep at night. We're tired by the end of the day."

Sometimes the long hours caused some Explorers to nod off during lectures. That prompted Tony Holladay, a Border Patrol agent in Temecula who served as one of the training staff, to issue a blanket warning.

"If I catch anyone dozing, you're all going to do push-ups," he said.

Sheriff's Deputies Oscar Garcia and John Kaiser read the riot act to the group after one Explorer left his arm band in class. Explorers are broken down into red, white, blue and black "teams" and the arm band allows instructors to know who is who.

To drive home the point, every member of the team -- except the offender -- dropped and did 50 push-ups.

"He needs this back," said Kaiser, who works in the Palm Desert station as he waved the band in the air. "I think we've got a little bit of an attitude here. This is not a game."

Garcia, a senior deputy at the Clark center who served as training coordinator, got in the errant Explorer's face.

"You better get to attention. I don't think you're going to make it," he said.

Two people dropped out of the program this year. Three left last year.

After finishing the punishment drill, Garcia and Kaiser said there was a reason for the tough-love approach. An officer who forgets part of his equipment can place his life in danger.

"This is about teaching the concept of responsibility," Garcia said.

Sworn officers served as instructors. Sheriff's Sgt. Charles Wilhite gave a lecture about proper search techniques and ways of gathering and cataloging evidence.

He offered a bit of practical advice he's found useful in searching property without a warrant.

"No matter what reason you have to search, always, always, always ask for consent," Wilhite said. "Even people who have drugs in their pocket or who have dead bodies in their trunk will give you consent."

Corona police Detective Jerry Rodriguez, who spoke about officer safety and dealing with crimes in progress, stressed that one of the best ways to avoid injury is staying in shape. To that end, Rodriguez runs marathons, rides bicycles and lifts weights.

"You carry a 20-pound (equipment) belt and a 5-pound vest," he said. "You've got to be physically prepared. If you're not, it's going to take its toll."

Explorers also witnessed a sheriff's canine sniff out dope and observed a typical drug lab displayed for their benefit. The sheriff's helicopter lifted a couple of members from the department's SWAT team for a flyover. Pilot Tony Bowen explained how the departments use a combination of low- and high-tech to seek out and capture bad guys. The high-tech elements include a global positioning system to keep them exactly on track. But they also use everyday street maps.

Following lectures and demonstrations, the students went to the sheriff's firing range in Perris to shoot police-issue guns. On Friday, they snaked their way through an obstacle course that required them to sprint, drag a tire attached to a rope, dive under and jump over hurdles, and weave in and out of a line of cones.

"Lopez, you run like a girl!" one instructor yelled at Palm Springs Explorer Edna Lopez as she loped her way through the course.

Lopez, 16, took the ribbing in step. She is a girl. But she knows she's got to improve her form if she's going to make it in police work.

Some Explorers have mapped out their future. Kevin Lamb, 19, of Riverside, plans to enlist in the military and eventually become an officer. At 47.66 seconds, he completed the obstacle course quickest.

"I want to be a leader, to take charge," said Lamb, who has accompanied officers on 130 ride-alongs as an Explorer. "We've covered a lot of ground."

Explorers like Hellam were proud of their gumption, of their grit to complete the academy. Hellam is only 5 feet 1 inch tall, weighs 96 pounds and suffers from asthma. She needed her rescue inhaler every morning to complete the morning run, which started out at a mile and got longer every day. She knows that she will have to improve her endurance on the running track to make it in the field.

"Hanging in there has its benefits," she said. "I did not want to be here when it started but I'm glad I came. I love it, I really do. I do not want to leave."

Joe Vargo can be reached by e-mail at jvargo@pe.com or by phone at (909) 587-3130.

Published 8/15/1999