Journal Entry: "Welcome to Ft. Bragg"
NOTE: I’ve already been at Ft. Bragg now for eight days and have been playing catch-up on my journal in every spare moment. Still, it took me this long to get caught up to this point. With the caveat that my time is not my own again, my entry frequency should pick back up again. I anticipate that within a week or two I will have a laptop issued to me and I can start emailing entries or publishing them myself.
Arrival at Bragg was fairly uneventful for me, but literally all of the other eight Civil Affairs soldiers I met at the airport in Charlotte had at least one or all of their bags lost. US Air sucks by the way. The feeling I experiences when I stepped off the plane in Fayetteville was very near that same crushing, claustrophobic loneliness I felt the first few days at reception battalion before BCT. It is so easy to understand why so few people chose life’s more difficult journeys. The temptation to retreat back to the comfortable, the familiar is very strong and were it not for the government contract I signed, I’m not sure I would not have given up somewhere during Day 1….probably within 15 minutes of arrival.
I spoke very little to the others at first. I just didn’t feel like meeting anyone. I was fighting the current that was pulling me back into the constricting grasp of military life, or at least the life of a trainee. I saw a few familiar faces: Chris, Anne, and Heather. It was a minor comfort, but my heart was mourning the loss of my family and friends and my mind was dreading the return to captivity. I was pretty much in a bad way for at least the first two or three days though one would not have known it from observing or interacting with me. I’ve become very adept at masking these emotions that evoke weakness. Though I must add that eventually everyone reveals their story of anxiety and depression and loneliness. After enough time has elapsed, it is possible to laugh at it. There is no balm for misery like sharing it with others.
Arrival at Bragg was fairly uneventful for me, but literally all of the other eight Civil Affairs soldiers I met at the airport in Charlotte had at least one or all of their bags lost. US Air sucks by the way. The feeling I experiences when I stepped off the plane in Fayetteville was very near that same crushing, claustrophobic loneliness I felt the first few days at reception battalion before BCT. It is so easy to understand why so few people chose life’s more difficult journeys. The temptation to retreat back to the comfortable, the familiar is very strong and were it not for the government contract I signed, I’m not sure I would not have given up somewhere during Day 1….probably within 15 minutes of arrival.
I spoke very little to the others at first. I just didn’t feel like meeting anyone. I was fighting the current that was pulling me back into the constricting grasp of military life, or at least the life of a trainee. I saw a few familiar faces: Chris, Anne, and Heather. It was a minor comfort, but my heart was mourning the loss of my family and friends and my mind was dreading the return to captivity. I was pretty much in a bad way for at least the first two or three days though one would not have known it from observing or interacting with me. I’ve become very adept at masking these emotions that evoke weakness. Though I must add that eventually everyone reveals their story of anxiety and depression and loneliness. After enough time has elapsed, it is possible to laugh at it. There is no balm for misery like sharing it with others.
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