I was a U.S. Air Force Security Policeman (Law Enforcement Specialist) from 1975 to 1979.
We had to blouse our dark blue, polyester trousers over black combat boots.
If you had a special detail that day, such as flag retreat or a retirement ceremony with a color guard, you had to use white shoelaces laced in a box pattern. Common, white parachute shroud lines were used for the laces.
Our green fatigues were bloused over black combat boots, or green jungle boots when I was in Panama.
As for basic training, mine was no cake walk. Our Training Instructor (T.I.) had been reprimanded the flight before ours for shoving a recruit against a locker and slapping him repeatedly. Hard.
Yeah, I know, sounds like nothing compared to horror stories of the Army or Marines but such a thing was unheard, even in 1975.
We had to run or quick-march wherever we went; he wasn't about to let a bunch of pampered, lazy recruits ruin HIS Air Force!
And every other morning at Oh God Hundred was a Fire Drill, rousing us from our sleep.
Security Police school was strenuous too. We ran everywhere and spent hours in the gym learning P.A.R.T. (Physical And Restraining Techniques) with Judo and wrestling moves and the like.
By the time I got my first assignment, to Lowry Air Force Base in Denver, I was ready!
Unfortunatlely, for whatever reason, the base refused to recognize my weapons qualifications from the academy. So, for the first few days of patrol, I rode around unarmed, with a sergeant.
The sergeant was furious at the paper-pushers who let me work with full uniform -- badge and all -- but no gun. All I had was the 36-inch riot baton mounted to the dash.
Typical military.
I survived. I'm proud of my service.
Incidentally, when I was at Howard Air Force Base, Panama, I met officers and enlisted from many branches. Some of the nicest officers I met were Marines. As long as you had your act together, and gave them a snappy salute, they didn't mess with you. Often, they were friendly and asked how you were doing and where you were from.
Army officers looked for an excuse to mess with you, especially lieutenants. Warrant officers cared less; they just wanted to fly their Hueys or Cobras.
Naval officers were quiet but friendly, as long as they got their snappy salute.
Even today I get sneers among co-workers for being in the Air Force.
"Odd, I didn't see you humping a 40-pound ruck in the jungles of Panama," is my reply.
Security Police were responsible for airfield security for three miles out, in every direction. I spent many 72 or 96-hour humps through the jungle.
Nothing compared to what VietNam vets endured, of course, but it was far from an air conditioned office.