Journal Entry: "Overcoming Obstacles"

If there’s anything I’ve already learned about basic training is what an emotional roller coaster it can be…at least for me. I keep having these weak moments where I am fatigued and unable to maintain my proper perspective. Yesterday during lunch was the lowest point since night one. What had changed? Absolutely nothing but my brain chemistry from over exertion and less than 4 hours of sleep. We had just finished our first bayonet class, and when the adrenaline dropped I cratered. This fear and doubt and melancholy crept in and I could feel, almost hear, the battle raging in my head to toss those useless thoughts aside and press on, but some part of me felt obligated to indulge the misery. This voice likes to dwell on the darkest scenarios of death and failure. It likes to try to convince me that I am not strong enough; that my family isn’t going to survive this; that I’m going to get myself killed or worse that I will survive some attack only to live the remainder of my days as a burden to my loved ones. It’s a creeping anxiety and it lays in wait for a weak moment to attack my resolve. If this sounds a little melodramatic, it’s only to underscore how powerful an emotional event it can be. When you hear of people crying or breaking down in training it’s because they lost this battle. And it is a battle. You have to stand up to your thoughts and push them aside and soldier on. It’s a frightening experience and it all takes place in your head. You would never know if the person next to you was in a tormented struggle for emotional control of himself.

I’m convinced that true greatness, true personal strength, belongs to those who can win that internal battle decisively and defeat the enemy within.

Journal Entry: "R&R"

It’s kind of a slow day today. Another Sunday. A day of rest and recuperation. I got caught up in all of my letter writing already and I’m not really in the mood for the teenage-level discourse on the topics of sports, sex, and cars. Sports and cars haven’t been a compelling subject for me for a couple of decades and as for sex, well at the age of most of these guys, it’s still mostly theoretical. Though they each insist they are this generations Don Juan. Was I that pathetic back then? Probably.
The soldiers seem to finally be coming together for the most part with a few hold-outs defending some false sense of individuality down to the last and, ironically, to their detriment. It’s fascinating to watch some of the characters in this bizarre play. At times I feel like Jane Goodall living among the Mountain Apes the way some of them act. But I still hope that most of them can and will take this opportunity to better themselves and develop a sense of community. There’s really only one that I already believe is too sociopathic to have a chance. As much as he irritates me, I find myself thinking about him and wondering if there was some way to get through. Actually, since I started writing this entry, he’s already involved himself in no less than three barracks melodramas. This nest week should go a little faster. There are a lot of Army rites of passage coming up including the gas chamber where they expose you to CS gas (which, oddly enough, everyone is really excited about) and our first “bivouac” (Army for camp out). The first bivouac is just an overnighter, but there are many here who have probably never slept out from under a roof. With rain threatening everyday, it should be interesting. This upcoming generation is so soft, but the heart is still there, lying dormant, waiting to be awakened.

Journal Entry: "Mail Call"

Yesterday was the first mail call, and perhaps one of the best days of my life so far. It’s funny how circumstances can turn something that once was so routine, so trivial as getting a letter into a celebration. When the Sergeant announced mail call and then called my name, I felt a swell of elation not matched since I was a child on Christmas morning. Since I’ve been and “adult” I’ve occasionally mourned the loss of that sense of anticipation, wonder, and joy that I had as a little boy around the holiday season. Yesterday, at mail call, I got it back. I’ve been thinking a lot about how adversity and the things we label “ negative” play their appropriate role in our lives to stand in contrast, and thereby allow the existence of our joy, our peace, our love. These things can and do exist in the darkest places. They are the truths of all creation.
I received nine letters in total at first mail call. So many, in fact, that I started to feel a little self-conscious about it. I started to wish that some of them were for the other soldiers not as fortunate as I am to have so many loving, thoughtful, and supportive friends to stand with them. It inspired me to step even more and look after and encourage some of them who I already know are in a pretty tough place and probably don’t have anybody to help them along.
Today, things came to a head in the bay, which is the living quarters that that the 3rd platoon (mine) and 4th platoon share. There are 47 men in this sleeping area with a shared latrine, just as you might expect to see in a movie depicting the experience. Naturally, it’s been chaotic and messy as we’ve yet to have any leadership appointed within the ranks, so no one has been given the authority to make group decisions. I’d been waiting patiently for a routine to develop on its own, but my instincts were telling me that wasn’t going to happen until someone took charge. I’d also determined that that is exactly what DS Allen had planned all along — for leadership to naturally assume itself. So tonight, that’s what I did. I’d been quietly building consensus with the other defacto leaders in the ranks over the past couple of days so that I knew I I’d get buy-in on my ideas and they had a lot of good ones to contribute as well. Together, we have been able to come up with a solid plan of action, and tonight, after lights out, we put it in play. I acted as spokesman and addressed the entire bay and laid out the plan. It was probably the most aggressive stance I have ever taken in my life. I played up my anger and indignation at out collective failings for effect and berated us as a group, singling no one out (though I wanted to), but then I offered a solution that was soundly and enthusiastically accepted. I have to admit—it was pretty fucking cool. It was like a page out of Lord of the Flies—“ I have the conch, hear me!” They listened, they gave a great big Army “Hooah” in agreement and all night since I feel like I’ve been holding court in my bunk as guys stop by to add a thought or pat me on the back for stepping up to make us work together. We’ll see how it goes, but I’m encouraged. I’ve struggled a lot of my adult life with a strong aversion to leadership. I’ve had my failings before and when I introspect on it, I’ve always identified my weakness as being desirous of approval from those I am supposed to be leading. I needed to be the “likeable guy” so badly that it made me ineffectual. I wasn’t sure there was a way for me to ever be a leader of others and not have to be completely apart from them socially. I’m glad to say I was wrong. I’m starting to figure out the balance.

Journal Entry: "Battle Buddies"

Sunday ended on a high note. I had a great talk with my battle-buddy, Nick while we rolled and folded clothes for our wall-locker display. He’s a cool kid and despite the 14-year age difference, we get along well and find many things to talk about.
DS Allen gave us another “pep-talk” and mentioned that she was disappointed in those she knew had leadership skills but are holding back. I’m pretty sure she was directing this at me she turned and looked straight at me and screamed it for added emphasis. She’s right —I am holding back for a number of reasons. One is that nobody liked the kiss-up that tries too hard. Another is that I feel like I just need to stay out of the way and let the kids play leader as, frankly, it would be way too easy for me to take over and get things on the right track fast. But honestly, I think some of them need to learn through hard knocks for a while longer. Another problem is that there are already too many trying to control everything, and as you might expect, it’s breeding resentment in the ranks. I’d prefer to remain the quiet positive influence and lead by example. I’m patient and really don’t mind the extra PT —at least most of the time. My body isn’t exactly used to the constant physical activity and 17 hour days that start at 5:00 AM, so part of the time I am suffering from fatigue. Again, it’s amazing how your perspective gets warped by your physiological circumstances. Today around lunch I would have sold my soul for a nap, but now I’m feeling strong again only two hours later. It’s a valuable asset to have presence of mind enough to understand the temporary and illusory nature of human perspective. So many kids here make some pretty stupid decisions in the wrong frame of mind. They make the mistake of thinking that their minds are interpreting their circumstances accurately and haven’t yet learned to recognize the fleeting nature of emotion. Apparently, there are a fair number of suicides in Army BCT. I certainly hope there is no one in my company that is feeling that lost and alone. I can only really keep an eye out for my platoon and so far, everyone seems in good spirits, despite the requisite bitching.
The DS’s have a sixth sense for identifying troublemakers and attitude problems. I made a list in my head of those I knew were going to be obstinate and the DS’s are now pretty much consistently on these guys and consistently not on everyone else near as much. It seems pretty clear that from here on out, I’ll be given a great deal more latitude when it come to my mistakes as I’ve gained the respect of several of the DS’s already. They have observed my willingness to do the job right and give it my best, and in this case, having them know you name is a good thing.

Journal Entry: "Sunday"

Today is Sunday. I LOVE Sundays. If you choose not to go to a chapel session, you have plenty of time to get everything squared away – laundry, boot shining, locker organization. But most importantly you have time to get to know your bunkmates. The Army has a battle-buddy system where each soldier is assigned a partner for the entire 9-week session. Honestly, it was the one thing I was really dreading. Even though I pretty much get along with everyone, I was dreading the idea of getting placed with someone wholly incompatible with me, especially given the fact that they are all but physically joined at the hip to you and you are guilty by association for all their screw-ups. Fortunately, I got a gem. He’s a great kid from Kirksville, MO named Nick. He’s 18 years old, just out of high school, and has a laid back demeanor about him. His mannerisms and attitude remind me of my brother-in-law, Clayton. His job is 15-Tango (15T) which is Blackhawk mechanic, but my bet is if he stays in he’ll make officer someday. Already I feel a strong bond with him and I can tell we’ll be good friends when this is over.

Journal Entry: "Help Wanted"

Our platoon needs a leader and fast. I haven’t quite figured out why they’re waiting on that, but it’s completely chaotic. There are troublemakers and then there are those trying too hard to set them straight. I don’t even know which is more disruptive. I remain the calm eye of the shit storm. The loud-mouths are bunked right next to me, and, although I sometimes have the thought that I must be the dumbest person in the world to leave my quiet life and beautiful loving wife to come sleep next to these jokers, most of the time I have the right perspective on it. It’s part of the challenge, part of the experience. The Army s going to do wonders for these guys is they are smart enough to accept the help.DS Allen. Gave our platoon a harsh round of PT for our continuing inability to form a simple formation without talking. Most of these young guys have never been made to exercise any sort of self-discipline in their lives. It’s astounding to watch how much difficulty they have with being still. That lack of discipline is causing us a lot of extra PT and loss of sleep. It’s annoying for me, but I’m so far ahead mentally and physically than most of these guys that it’s mostly just a minor nuisance. And I rather enjoy DS Allen’s lecture on dignity, honor, and respect, as I know they are not directed at me, and I like to think that some of these kids are taking heed and somewhere within the group, a light is coming on and a life is being saved.

Journal Entry: "Welcome to Basic Combat Training"

I haven’t been afforded the time to write entries since we shipped to BCT 2 days ago. A lot has a happened since then. Basically stated: everything here beats the hell out of the 120th Reception Battalion. There are plenty of supplies, pillows, a decent locker, and short meal lines. It takes less than 20 minutes to get in, eat and get out versus up to 2hrs at the 120th. The drill sergeants are a sight more professional and although they’re constantly yelling at us I can tell that most of the have our best interests in mind. Sure, there is a sadistic bastard or two peppered among them, getting off on having a small amount of power over some of their fellow human beings, but in general, this is a good group and I have already developed and affection for my Platoon DS, Sergeant Allen. She is a stand-up human being who clearly puts the interest of others ahead of her. She is an inspiration to me already.
I generally was a little disappointed with the first two days of BCT. I was expecting battle-level stresses and instead a kinder gentler Army greeted us off the bus. I was aware that they weren’t “supposed” to curse and touch you, but I was kind of hoping that was one of those things that was ignored, but it’s not. Instead, they have to use words like “dang” which is just way too distracting from the experience. Something about a big, bad-ass DS using second-tier curse words that my mother uses in real life just ain’t right.
Most of the time I’m feeling good and strong and have maintained my ‘invisibility’ pretty well. You don’t want to stand out here. It’s generally a bad thing.
I did well on my PT test. I finished third in my platoon in the initial run and should be on track for 100% PT score by the end. After the first few days of almost nothing but classroom, I am already dreading the mention of the word ‘classroom.’ You’d think it would be a haven, but we’re all so tired and the DS’s march the aisles looking for closed eyelids and the back of the room become a torture chamber for punitive PT. This afternoon, I had a pretty serious headache; and that combined with muscle and mental fatigue resulted in a pretty bad mood. I got a little sloppy with of course resulted in a great deal more of punitive PT. It’s not a big deal to me-I’ve already figured out the game, but I have to say that if you treated a dog this way the ASPCA would be on your ass! The game is simple: give you too many tasks and not enough time to do them; too much info and not a fair chance to process it all; several different conflicting orders or instructions; tell you have one hour to shave and get ready for evening formation, then up in 10 minutes and tell you to be down in 5! Combine all that with interrupted sleep patterns and you’ve got a recipe for some very discombobulated minds.
I am finding time now and again for a few quiet moments where I can collect my thought and enjoy my surroundings. It sounds bad, but it’s really a pretty interesting and novel experience. I know I’ve made the right choice. I’ve just got to do my time here to get to the good stuff.

Journal Entry: "Last Limbo in Jackson"

There is a tangible air of excitement as everyone is looking forward to the last day of limbo. The younger guys are driving us old guys crazy. There’s anywhere from 10%-15% of the company over the age of 26 or so and we are all here with clearly different motivations than them, especially us “true believers.’ I have to wonder why some of these guys are here. They must be chronic ADHD. They can’t stand at attention for literally 5 seconds without cutting up.

Journal Entry: "On Our Way"

We received our orders to ship out from the purgatory of reception to BCT after what must be surely the most surreal, yet hopelessly boring weeks of my life. I had to break my vow of complaint silence a little today when I found out we were schedules for guard duty again tonight. That makes two nights in a row, and tomorrow is the big day so rest is at a premium. Just to give some background, double-duty is usually a punishment, this time it was a case of lazy cadre. The majority of our company pulled one duty all week. An unlucky few of us pulled three. FT Jackson reception is run very poorly. One can quickly begin to discern between stupid shit you have to do that is planned that way, and stupid shit you have to do that is the result of absurd disorganization, and (ironic as it is), a sadly low level of professional discipline amongst the cadre here. There are some well-meaning and hard-working souls among them, but the majority of them seem to be a petty gaggle of bureaucrats perpetually on the verge of burn out. The result is a great deal of mistakes and miscommunication.
Still, I am a day away from leaving that all behind. I’m very excited! I’m getting the same rush about getting off that bus as I do when I am about to jump out of an airplane.

It’s a long way down…

Journal Entry: "Idle Time"

More sitting around. The malaise is starting to get to the more weak-minded of the soldiers. I have a hard time calling us that since we’ve done nothing yet to deserve the title shared by those who are in harms’ way. If Darwin ever needed more proof for his theory, he needed only put a bunch of young Army recruits under observation for a week. Some of these guys go straight to “silverback” mode, strutting around, acting tough, talking a lot of shit, boasting of their sexual exploits, etc…..trying desperately not to show how scared shitless they really are just under the surface. Another “coping” mechanism is the Know-It-All-Loudmouth syndrome, a.k.a. the “bunkhouse lawyer,” and we’ve got a couple here no doubt. These types seem to exhibit absolutely no self-awareness whatsoever! I mean, how can you talk for 15 minutes after lights out when everyone quit talking 10 minutes ago! The sad thing is, those with little or no self-image are without the self-awareness necessary to make the transformation into those who respect and love themselves and others. It makes me wonder what happens. What can happen to them, or for them, that makes the switch click ‘on’ and causes them to introspect and examine their attitudes and interactions with others and see themselves in everyone around them?
All in all, it was a fairly uneventful day, but the upside is we had more free time to get to know one another… and for the children to act up and get us in trouble. We had our phone privileges revoked for awhile, but it must have been rumor because we ended up getting more time than ever. I even had time for a second phone call to Dad which really supercharged my already high spirits. I’ve already bonded with a couple of guys enough to want to keep up with them even if we don’t end up in the same company next week after reception is over and real BCT (Basic Combat Training) begins. What is also very encouraging is how many other guys I’ve met who have come for similar reasons. It’s good to know that there are still those out there with a real sense of selfless nobility. You get enough of these types together and you begin to feel like anything is possible.

Journal Entry: "At Ease"

They’ve got this cheesy tradition in reception: whenever an NCO (Non-commissioned officer) comes around you yell, “At ease,” which is Army standard, but when he says, “Carry on,” we all scream in unison, “Warriors form the start, Sergeant!” Then he says, “Warriors never quit,” and we say, “Hooah!” That’s it, but it happens over and over and over. Today was Saturday and no civilians are here to process us and I guess Army personnel have the weekend off as well. This means we sit, and I don’t mean we sit around our bunks. The Army obviously believes the old saying, “Idol hands are the devil’s workshop” (something like that). The only time we are allowed in our barracks is about one hour before lights out when we are showering, writing letters, organizing overnight guard assignments or already sleeping. On a day like today when we literally have nothing on the schedule but meals, it seems ridiculous, but at the same time completely understandable. Most of the kids are so “young and dumb” and so completely void of self-control and respect for others that they’d end up putting half of them in the brig before they got out of reception week. No kidding. Just like you don’t take your eyes off of a pre-school class, you don’t take your eyes off of a bunch of fresh recruits. But in a way, as annoying and transparently insecure as many of them are, I’m looking forward to watching them develop into self-respecting men; well, at least most of them. I think too many of them have gone so far into the abyss of self-loathing, that this experience will have no lasting effect on them. I haven’t spent much time outside of my socio-economic strata before now, at least not since grade school. It’s easy to forget that most people don’t act from some unspoken rulebook of social harmony and personal grace. For many of these young men, this will be their first and last opportunity for attaining knowledge of themselves and a sense of community that can put them on the road to personal success. I hope so at least, and wish them the best of luck.

Journal Entry: “Dressed Up”

We received our BDU (Battle Dress Uniform) issue this morning. We got some of it yesterday but today we got the tops with our names sewn in. Though I’ve already worn the uniform in Reserve drills, there was something different about it this time. Putting it on was transformational. I felt my confidence and mental strength renew in full. A lot of that can be attributed to my first decent night’s sleep since my arrival, but I must say that there was a sense of pride that came over me in our first uniformed formation. It was invigorating. I can already feel years of lazy-mindedness burning away and a new strong perspective settling in. I’m not just going to make it; I’m going to like it. I’m going to respect the man I am even more when this is over.

Journal Entry: “Reception”

This was the hardest day of my life - so far. In the early, early hours of an entirely sleepless night, I had something approximating a mild panic attack lying in bed. All perspective was lost from the total lack of sleep combined with the stress of an extremely unfriendly and unforgiving environment. I get the distinct impression that that the ‘handlers’ here, both civilian and military, are not used to dealing with people who come here for a spiritual-philosophical adventure; quite the opposite. You know those maddening pricks that piss on the toilet seats, those salt of the earth types that think wrestling is real. They are all here, representin’ for the American blue collar mentality. But I’ll tell you, even though I find their primitive ways strange and, in many cases, obviously counter-productive, most are good, caring men who love their families no less than I, and frankly that is the ultimate common bond. In a way, that fact alone is aiding my perspective on this endeavor: to always keep in mind that we are all brothers and sisters in humanity and that we will be only as successful as the depths of our empathy for one another.

Journal Entry: "Ship Day”

I’m actually writing these first few entries together after a couple of days because I just got a flashlight so I can write after lights out. It’s not as fresh as I’d like it to be but it’s something.
“Ship Out” was one of the most difficult days of my life by far. Being a pretty chill guy as things go, and considering my level of motivation and the high-mindedness of my ‘mission’, I shocked myself with panicked thoughts of a sudden and very real desire to get out of this by any means necessary. I was thinking about which ache or pain I could magnify into a full blown handicap or what they would do if I staged a sit-in or a hunger strike or started dressing like Corporal Klinger! Anything! My mind was screaming, “Just get me out of here!” I can now say that I now have glimpsed that fear and anxiety that holds back the hearts of men that secretly yearn for rich and full lives but resign themselves to lives of quiet desperation. The sudden sense of total loss of control is profound. The great unknown lies ahead like a dark and treacherous path on the once open (if not narrow) road of life. I can see why so many recruits lose it. I’m amazed more do not, actually. It is openly hostile and the sleep deprivation can make the most resolute have wild and dark thoughts.

Journal Entry: I'm Late, I'm Late...

Heading out to Basic Training in the morning. A little nervous but otherwise chomping at the bit to get started. I'm going to miss my quiet little life here in Austin with my family and friends, but I'm excited to open this new chapter in my life.
Stay tuned. I'll be snail-mailing my journal entries to my wife for her to transcribe for me - assuming that's allowed by the US Army. I would imagine so, but you never know. There are definitely a few "freedoms" one gives up when they join the military.