I have been home since last Thursday and had time to reflect on my time at BCT. I want to share a few thoughts and feelings with ya’ll, if that is OK.

How many times have we been told that you lead by example? That if you don’t stand up for what is right, then who will?

Serving my country is something that I have felt very strong about for a long time. At the age of 42, my decision to join the Army was all about that. Yes, the idea of getting into a different career field like journalism as exciting, but the whole reason I wanted to join was to serve my country in a time when most wont. I know that the recruiters are having a hard time getting people to join. With the deployment times being longer and the unpopularity of this war, many parents are not supporting their kids in the decision to join any branch of the military and the older ones are asked if they have lost their minds if they make noises about joining. It takes a lot out of a person to tell your loved ones and friends that you are joining the military in a time of war, and even more, when it is an unpopular war. But there are those that do it. There are those that, for what ever reason, say ‘I am joining the military! You can like it or not, but this is what I am doing.’ That is what I did and what many others have done.

While in basic, I learned many things. Some of them made me proud and some were very disappointing. As I am sure that most of you regular readers know by now, I am a very romantic minded person. Now that is not romantic in the sense that I am sure many of your thoughts have jumped to. If you have read my book, ‘Cindy in Iraq: A Civilian’s Year in The War Zone’, you will remember ‘Ed’. ‘Ed’ once told me that I was naive and had a romantic view of the world and the people in it. When I asked him what he meant by that, he explained it this way: When he looked at the world and the people that inhabit it, he sees and expects the worse, he expects them to be bad. That way he is never disappointed and never puts his trust in someone that has not earned it and it takes a lot for them to earn it with him. He says that he stays safe that way. Me, well, he says that I expect everyone to be good. That I see the good in everyone I meet, weather they are or not, and expect them to live up to it even if they don’t see it themselves or can’t really do it. That is why I get hurt and disappointed so much. At 38 years old, that was at that time, he told me that I was like a child in many ways in that area. I have thought about that many times over the last few years and come to the conclusion that he is right, in a way. Why else would I have some of the friends and relationship that I have had and still do have, if I didn’t see something in those people that was good and kind. 

The first thought I had about joining the Army and the reason I gave SSG Woody and SFC Vilt, was that since I was looking at going in as an 88M (truck driver), my experience in Iraq already would help save a life. Then they get my ASVAB scores back, we did some talking and I found that I could follow another passion that I have and go into journalism. Being able to tell the stories of the ‘Boots on the Ground’ was something I really wanted to do. And to do it from within the ranks would have been great! So still my reasons for joining the Army were intact and very strong.

With that in mind, can you see how I might be a bit disappointed in some of the things I saw in the people I met in BCT? From the ages of 17 to 42, I meet people that had so many reasons for joining the Army, but to serve their country was not number 1. For some, it wasn’t even in the top 5. Now, I don’t want to sound like these people don’t have honor in their reasons for joining the Army, they do. It is just that unlike me, there main reason was not to serve our Country. Many joined to make a better life. Some had no where else to go and, in their minds, nothing else they could do with their lives. Some wanted the education that the military could offer, some wanted the promise of a steady paycheck and the finical stability that would offer their family. Some planed to just fulfill their first enlistment, get out, and take what they learned into the civilian sector. It was their way of learning a trade because they could not afford a trade school. There were some that were looking for direction. Their lives had been filled with trouble, pain, and no direction. They felt lost and alone. And there were a few, a very few that were somewhat where I was for a reason to join. But none listed it as their first reason except for me. Or at least not that I ever heard.

A few days after we got to basic, DS ‘B’ handed us a personal data sheet. On it were several questions that are mundane and routine. But at the bottom was the hardest question on the sheet and would be the longest answer that any of us would have to give. The question was, “Why did you join the Army?” This was not a question that I wanted to answer, at least not for them. I knew that in answering this question they would have a bit of incite as to who I was, why I was here, and a bit of information on how to push and motivate us. It was also something that they could use against us, (yes, I remembered what ‘Ed’ had told me.) But, I answered the question.

It went something like this, but not exactly:

Having spent 2 years in Iraq as a Civilian Contractor/ truck driver/convoy commander, I came home with a greater love of my country that I have ever had before in my life. In being a CC, I had 2 American drivers shot, one sitting in the truck with me, a TCN driver shot, and a soldier wounded. My hope is that my experience there will help save a life. And as I have said many time to people, ‘If we don’t stand up for what is right, then who will?’ So here I am, doing what I think is right and serving my country when others wont.

I didn’t say anything about writing a book. I didn’t want them to know about that. I didn’t want it to be used against me, good or bad. There is way to much of who I am in there that I didn’t want them to know about me….. at least not yet.

In the beginning, on the first day, my platoon worked as a team. We got off the bus and had to run the ‘Fit to Win’ course. I had problems in keeping up with everyone, but as soon as they saw that, they helped me through. I would be the last to an obstacle, but the first one through it. that would give me time to make it to the next one and not get left behind. there would always be someone with me and I was never left alone. We were the first platoon to finish the course and DS ‘C’ said that that was going to set the tune for our time in basic. But as time went on and I watched my battle buddies in training, I got discouraged. Discipline, knowing how to follow an order, and being able to work as a team, at all times, just didn’t seem to be happening. They would talk in formation, fight in the bay, pick and make fun of others, not do what they were told to do, disrespect some of the DS and each other, and at times, only worry about themselves and how things would affect them instead of the whole platoon. When it came time to run a course and work as a team, they could do that and we would win. But later in the company area, or at night in the bay, they would talk about others, they would down grade them, and some would even get it their face and try to start a fight.

As I was on and off profile, in and out of pain, I caught a bit of hostility from some. I understood some of it, but not all. I realize that there were those that would go on sick call to avoid having to do a march, or other physical training. They were called ‘The Sick Call Rangers” or ‘The 5th Platoon’. I knew a couple that really didn’t have anything wrong with them that were going on sick call. But in the same instance, there were those of use that were really having problems. We would all get lumped into the same group and that could be very degrading and depressing. Even though I knew that the comments from the DS were not directed at me, they knew I really had a problem, because I was standing with the ‘profiles’ I would have to listen to the comments. Those comments form the DS would then be pick up by our battle buddies. You would ‘overhear’ someone making a derogatory comment about you, but not many would actually make the same comment to your face. All that goes a long way to bringing your mental state to a low level.

Then there were those that were hurt that refused to go on sick call. They didn’t want to be held back for an injury, or they didn’t want to have to put up with the crap that you would take for going to sick call. I knew one male that had a broken foot or ankle and refused to allow the doctor to put a cast on it. He tried to stay on profile as mush as he could, but when something big in the training came up, he would violate his profile and do the training, weather it be a course, or a PT test. A few days before I was discharged, his DS made him go to the doctor and cast the foot. He was not happy about it at all.

I know that I am going all over the place with this post and I hope ya’ll are able to stay with me. This kind of yo-yoing is how my thoughts went. There would be a day that I would not hurt or it would be mild hurting and I would tell myself that no matter what, I am going to finish basic. then there would be days that I was hurting so bad that I couldn’t stop the tears from running down my face and I wanted to come home so bad! But in the midst of all that emotional roller coaster, I still had a determination to serve my country. Some where in there I felt that I could not give up. I could not let the pain keep me from doing what my heart felt I was meant to do. The DS would at times tell the others about how they had such an asset sitting right there in the platoon because I had been to Iraq already. One said something about the fact that I had already seen more combat as a civilian than a lot of them would see the whole time they were in the Army. Then comment on the fact that I was here with them, going through BCT.

That would give me a sense of responsibility. Responsibility to hang in there and keep trying. To show them that even at the age of 42, out of shape, hurting every time I had to run or do long marches, been to Iraq already, they could do it, I could do it, we all could do it. I could not give up. I wasn’t the PG, I wasn’t even a squad leader, but I felt I had once again been put in a position where I had to lead by example and stick it out as much as possible. Then came FM3 and my body gave out on me.