A soldier's coming home

Long ago I never thought I would be in this situation. I sat outside of my living quarters wondering why the stars where so different in Iraq. I wondered if any of these stars were visible from my family's home. I never thought those same stars would give peace and happiness to a country filled with bitter strife and conflict. Fighting is in my nature. I never stood up for myself in high school and as a result I was always picked on. I did not hold grudges against people, had I done that you may have seen my face associated with a school shooting. Nope, not me, I took the brunt of everything. One day though, that all changed and I became a new person, a man. I began my training at Fort Jackson, South Carolina.  In all military sense of this post, I was taking an easy route to finishing my military training. They call it relaxin' Jackson for a reason. At the beginning of most boot camp orientations, the drill instructors hand out stress cards to be used throughout a soldier’s time in training. The key to these stress cards is you only get so many, and once you’re out, you’re out! During the first weeks of training most soldiers would either use up there cards fending off drill instructors who were bored out of their minds. The other use for these cards was during barter, such as card games. The cards were referred to as "Soldiers Gold", because they were a lifeline to everything for the soldiers. What most people didn't realize is that soldiers tended to use up all of their cards before they even set foot in their training barracks. Yep, they were usually gone before anyone entered the training halls because they thought the orientation was so difficult. Soldiers using up all of their cards before training made these cards controversial, which is why I was never issued them. I entered basic training without the knowledge of stress cards, I watched as soldiers did pushups with fear in my eyes because of the authority of the drill instructors. My time was soon to come though, as every soldier receives an opportunity for a one on one with the drill instructor. The purpose of this meeting was for each soldier to give accurate information to the Army installation and personnel management center. This component of the Army gave information to the press on everything from a soldier’s daily life to the wash out rate at different points in a soldiers training. My time was soon coming, however something different was on the horizon for me. A corporal (which is a glorified Specialist, less than a sergeant) came up to me and asked me if I was ready. I said "yes sergeant!". Within three seconds I was doing pushups because I incorrectly addressed a non-commissioned officer's rank. I learned rank the hard way, and this was the beginning of me learning. After about five minutes of cardiovascular training I was sweaty and answering questions for this corporal. I was asked about my home town news paper, my graduating class from high school, even questions like how many friends of yours were African-American. My response was "I graduated with 500+ students, and not a one of them was black". That did not give me any extra help, because the Army is very diverse and this was a key question to what training unit I would be put into. My answer to that question put me in barracks almost exclusively dominated by minorities. This was a harsh, but much needed integration that I never received.

(This is section one of a book, Enjoy, I will have the remaining sections in the next couple of weeks.)