It seems like a lifetime ago that I was in the service. Looking back, I can say I joined for myriad reasons: to escape an alcoholic household; to pay for college; out of a sense of duty and service I felt I owed to this country; and finally, the influence of my uncles and my dad, all members of the Greatest Generation who had served in World War II.
I was not by any means a stellar soldier. My hair was often too long, and I complained a lot about the Mickey Mouse rules we had to follow. But I did my duty, and saw and did things in those four years that most people would never be able to do. I served two tours at Observation Post Alpha on the East German-West German border while a member of the 54th Engineer Battalion supporting the 1/11 Armored Cav; I earned my Air Assault qualification; I served in the 101st Airborne Division. I was a combat engineer: I could build bridges, and do the algebra required for explosives calculations in my head. I was an NCO (non-commissioned officer), and as a team leader for an engineer squad, I was responsible for over a million dollars’ worth of equipment, and the lives of six men, at 21 years of age.
When I got out of the Army and headed to college, I had no idea that my biggest challenges would be ahead. I will never forget the first party I went to in college. I already felt out of place, as I was four years older than everyone else, and felt a thousand years more mature. This party may have taken place in late 1989 or early 1990, but its memory still burns. Early in the evening I was talking to a young woman, and we were hitting it off—and then I mentioned I had just gotten out of the Army. The conversation drastically changed. She said, “So did you go into the Army because you were not smart enough to get into college?”
I am not often at a loss for words, but that night I was. I was proud of my service. But this woman had just questioned my intelligence because I had served. During this same period I was finding I had little in common with my friends, and they would not want to talk about my experiences in the military. It became, “Oh, an Army story, can we talk about something else?” I was supposed to care about their lives, and what they had done and accomplished—but nothing I had done, seen, or experienced was considered worthy of discussion.
No comments: