Monday, August 30, 2010

Back to School.



Well I've been meaning to write this post for a while now but I finally found some time and I think the timing fits in quite well with everyone returning to their fall campuses and beginning another semester.

A few days ago, I turned my truck off and hopped out and I began to walk across the all but empty parking lot. It was nighttime and for once it was actually somewhat cool out, a light breeze blew through the trees and rustled the leaves which were now somewhat more crisp as autumn approaches.

As I walked passed the basic training barracks and across the drill pad I looked up at the night sky which was filled with some stars, but most were drowned out from lights surrounding the pad. I stopped in the middle of the drill pad and looked around and thought that you could almost mistake this place for a college campus. The barracks looked like giant dormitories and there wasn't a soul in sight.

I thought to myself that most college aged kids are returning to their campuses and getting ready for the fall term. Soon enough they'll be in libraries busy reading history books, magazines, and journals. They'll be headed out on Friday nights to parties at fraternities and sororities. Saturdays of course are reserved for their respective school's football games and after the game they'll go out and sit in bars, smoke cigarettes and discuss politics, religion, and what they'll do after they graduate.

Then I thought to myself what about the kids in these huge dormitories here that I stood and looked around at. They're not dormitories of course, they're barracks that house Basic Training soldiers here. I say "kids" because that's what we all are here, just kids. For the most part, just a bunch of 18 to 25 year old kids trying to do what's best for our country. But this post isn't about what I do, it's about what they do.

They come from all different walks of life. Christians, Catholics, Baptists, Sikhs, Muslims, and Jews. Rich, poor, middle class. Families, single, divorced, widowed, happily married, separated. White, Black, Hispanic, Asian, Pacific-Islander, even a former Iraqi translator who came to America for a chance at success, but above all, they're American. I've seen them come and go already. Young boys, some still in high-school all the way to older guys with doctorates from Ivy League schools. They come from all over the country and all over the world, from Puerto Rico and the US Virgin Islands. They come because they want to. No one stood there and made them sign an enlistment contract. This all-volunteer Army is the greatest in the world not because we have a lot of cool shit, it's the greatest because of the people that make it great.

Back to school. While some of their friends are off back going to college they're here, training to become soldiers in the world's greatest army.

Just like their friends at college they'll graduate, but instead of a black cap and gown they'll be wearing a black beret and crisp green Class A's. Their teachers will be their too, but they won't be wearing those funny looking hats and gowns either, they'll be wearing brown campaign hats.

In a few months they'll have magazines alright, plenty of 'em. They'll have book-bags too. They'll have them, but not in context that most college kids have them. Most kids won't leave their house without their I-pod or their day is shot, these kids will take their weapon with them everywhere so they can shoot.

The magazines that they'll have are filled with green tip 5.56mm ball ammunition, not fashion tips and guy advice. And the bookbags they'll carry are filled with extra socks, a poncho, sleep system, flashlight, and a myriad of other gear. The books they'll read will be field manuals. They won't be like their peers reading about history, they'll be the ones writing it.

In a few months, they won't wear Uggs, a North Face, or carry a Nagelene bottle because it's trendy.

In a few months, they'll wear desert-tan combat boots, an IBA (body-armor), and a drink from a Camelback because their lives depend on it.

They do this because they volunteered to. While the rest of their friends are celebrating the big win at one of the university's fraternities, they're fighting and training as a part of America's largest, most decorated and respected fraternity. A fraternity in which your life literally depends on the brother or sister beside you. The fraternity of which I speak has plenty of chapters spread across the country. It has more famous and fabled brothers and sisters in more powerful and respected positions than all of the other fraternities and sororities combined. We're talking about being in the company of US Presidents, heads of Fortune 500 companies, professional athletes, and entertainers, and your common citizen. This fraternity is true to its founder's philosophy, ideals, and beliefs. No brotherhood or sisterhood can ever compare to that of U.S. Army.

After thinking about all of this as I walked across the drill-pad, I could here the echo of Taps, without a doubt it was eleven o'clock. The lone bugle played it's final note and it echoed back off of the hills in the distance. I remembered then where I was, not on some college campus staring at empty dormitories, but on a Military Post looking at the darkened windows of barracks. The windows are dark not because they are not there, the windows are dark for they are already fast asleep, they have training in the morning.

As I stated previously, this post is not about me, this post is about them. Some of my friends have graduated but some are still in school. All I ask is that when you drive your daily commute or as you walk across campus to your next class, you take a minute to stop and think about the soldier who is currently training, deployed, or retired. Think about the soldier that has made the ultimate sacrifice, think about them all because without a doubt they have done their duty and served our nation in the most unselfish of ways.