| Today is April 18, 1987, and I am currently
making
my way to Fort Dix Army Base in New Jersey. Let me tell you, I am not enjoying this. I am a Specialist Four, which is like a Corporal, and I was "volunteered" by my commander to take part in a month-long training session called P.L.D.C. (Primary Leadership Development Course). Since I've been in the Army for nearly four years, I am not looking forward to going through a mini "Boot Camp." So far today, I've been on two separate flights. I then had a three hour layover in Philadelphia, but I've finally made it on the bus to Fort Dix. As I take a look around the bus, I see a lot of young, eager faces. Most everyone is excited, and they obviously don't realize what is in store for them. For these young men are on their way to Basic Training. They still have long hair and are wearing civilian clothes. Many seem to be "talking big." I know what these guys are thinking. I have been through it all before. They are putting up the facade of tough guys, ready for anything. As I sit here quietly, the memory of my initial trip is rushing at me. The young men are talking about their lives as athletes, as boy-friends to girls they have left behind, and others. Their boasting is an attempt to show those around them that the new and different lives they are entering into are not anything about which to be worried. However, to one who is experienced, the anxiety can be felt in the air like a low fog. As the bus gets closer to the base, this fog gets thicker and thicker. When I was on my trip to Basic Training, I thought I was the only one who had the feelings of fear, anxiety, excitement, and wonderment, all at the same time. Oh, how naive I was at the tender age of eighteen. This knowledge has only come to me now as I sit on this bus as a casual observer. Although this is not apparent to the young men on this bus, it is becoming more obvious to me as the miles roll by, and their past lives grow further away. We are at the mid-point in our journey, and the noise level has dropped off a bit. Perhaps the reality of the situation is beginning to cut through the denial. This is what most of them have been doing thus far, denying their feelings to the others and, more importantly, to themselves. It is my belief that we all do this at one point in our lives or another; but, for anyone who has made this particular trip, it is especially true. For the young recruit, bus rides such as this seem to last forever. Time drifts by as if it were in slow motion, crawling along through the still night air to an unknown destiny. However, your mind clicks along all the while at an enormous rate, with an occasional overload that leaves you staring into space. "Excuse me...excuse me soldier," a voice calls from behind me. As I look at the face from which the voice had come, I see a young man. He has a fresh, innocent look about him. He is probably just out of high school; but, right now, he has the expression you might see on a helpless child, looking for guidance from an older brother. Although I know no physical harm will befall him, I cannot help but feel sorry for him. "Can you tell me anything about Basic Training?" he asks. "Oh God!" I think to myself. What should I tell him? Should I tell him the whole truth, or just try to calm his nerves for the moment? He has certainly told all his family and his friends from school that he was going into the army. Do I tell him of getting up well before dawn each morning and only getting fifteen minutes to be in uniform, room ready for inspection by the Company Commander, and outside in formation? Do I tell him of the Drill Sergeants who stand inches in front of you as they scream about your every mistake? Do I tell him that he will be pushed to his physical limits, often on the verge of total exhaustion? How can I look this kid in the face, and tell him that half of my platoon from Basic Training didn't even make it through? They ended up having to make an even longer trip home. Upon arrival, they would then have to explain to all those friends and family members, to whom they proudly stated "I'm going to be a soldier," why they had failed. Just the thought of such shame makes me quiver inside, and I did make it hrough. Since my stepfather was a medic with the 82nd Airborne Division in Viet Nam, I would have gone through twice, if that is what it would have taken. Perhaps, that is exactly what kind of drive it takes. A kind of drive that so many others did no possess. This kid's stress level is most likely making his heart beat like a trip hammer. So, I must be extremely cautious. "What is it you want to know?" I ask finally. "How hard is it?" he replies timidly. Hoping for a positive reply, I ask "Did you play any sports in high school?" "Yes, I played football, and I ran track a couple of times." "Then you shouldn't have any trouble with a lot of the training. It will be much harder, but you'll make it through," I state as confidently as possible. "You just have to keep telling yourself that it won't last forever; and, remember, the first three or four weeks will be the toughest. After that, you will start in on weapons training, learning first-aid, and other common tasks that every soldier needs to know. Just make sure you do what you're told, when you're told, and you won't have much trouble." By the look on his face, I can see that some relief is setting in. I can also see that my explanation was being attentively listened to by any of the other young men that surround me. For now though, the talking is done. This is due to the fact that we are approaching the gates to Fort Dix. At this point, the bus is completely silent. Only the sound of the big diesel engine can be heard. Gone is the boasting of fast cars and beautiful girls, leaving only the quiet thoughts of what is yet to come. We have pulled up to the curb in front of the reception station. This is where the young recruits will get their first taste of "Boot Camp." They will be filling out forms, getting dozens of injections, receive their uniforms, and get their hair shaved off. I also know that they will be discarding all their candy, snacks, cigarettes and lighters. So, in honor of them, I think I'll find a lounge and have a smoke before making my way to the barracks. I have been sitting in this lounge for a while now, waiting for someone to come pick me up, and I have come to a realization. It is not often that you are able to take a step back in time to relive a portion of your life, but this is what I have done today through the eyes of the young recruits that accompanied me along the way. I have found that reliving the past is not always comfortable; it is not always pleasant; but it is always an education. |
| Sadie: The Eternal Puppy | The Time Traveler |
| My Family Vacation | The Marriage |
Now take me home
daddy!
