The End Of One Road Begins Another

On December 17, 2009 I did something I had never done before: fly commercially. My 1st experience on a commercial airliner was a good one. I didn’t get strip searched, nor did I get the same treatment Adam Sandler’s character did in “Anger Management.” I did not have to run from one end of the airport to the other. If I had to complain about anything, it was the high cost for a cheeseburger in the airport. The wait was ok. “Hurry up and Wait” stinks but I’m used to it. It is a good tool to learn patience or to give you an ulcer. My stomach doesn’t hurt so I must have learned patience.

After sitting for hours in St. Louis I finally boarded my flight to Atlanta Ga. Then, I flew again, this time to Mobile Alabama. It was one of the best days in my life. My wife picked me up at the Mobile Airport and drove me home.

Only one thing happened in the five months I was gone. I changed. However, a very wide array of things happened that led to my change. In my previous blog entry on August 3, 2009 I mentioned the fact that I was leaving for basic training and was waiting for my recruiter to arrive. Well, he did and I went to basic training at Ft. Knox and then went to Ft. Leonard Wood for AIT.


The Army’s job, in a nutshell, is to win wars. Period. In these wars or other conflicts, soldiers die or get injured for their country top preserve the freedoms and ideals of the United States of America. The ones who do get injured to the point they can no longer serve, as well as those who are killed, must be replaced. As tragic as it is, it is a serious reality. If the Army never replaced the soldiers who have fallen or been disabled over the history of this country, we would not have an Army. This is not to mention the men and women who retire from service or the short timers who served their time and left the Army. And, there is a much smaller group who are separated from service for whatever reason.

For whatever the reason to replace the old personnel, the Army has to train new personnel. Serving is a privilege but once you’ve signed your signature you are committed to a job you just can’t quit. You can type the most eloquent resignation, with the verbiage that can make great writers to raise an eyebrow, but, nothing; I repeat nothing will help one get out of the armed services in a day. In some cases, longer than a month may be required. You do not want to jump into enlistment without weighing all of the options.

Who wants to go some place similar to a jail, get yelled at 24/7 by a total stranger, be told what, when and how to eat, when to go to the bath room, when to go to bed, when to wake up, what to where; have no privacy, wait in line for a shower and shower with others; get trained to go fight a war where the enemy wants to KILL YOU and do it all for a very meager financial compensation. That is why the needs good sales persons to show what the Army can do for them. These sales persons are called recruiters, and the Army hand picks these personnel and trains them to sell the Army. Recruiters usually hold the rank of E-5 (Sergeant) to E-7 (Sergeant First Class).

SSG Marty Shaw does his job well as a recruiter. His job is to sell the Army to kids fresh out high school, or in my case, older guys such as myself. I do believe I made his job easier because I already knew what MOS I wanted and I fully understood what I needed to do. In other words, SSG Shaw didn’t really have to sell me anything. And I paid for it, but in the end, what I got back in return was worth the price I paid.

Here is the story, and it picks up on August 3, 2009, the day I left off:

Steven hollered “Daddy, he’s here.” I gave Amanda a kiss and told her I loved her. I couldn’t hug her due to her surgery. Steven’s eyes were watery and I gave him a hug and told him I loved him. I felt a chill and not a good one. I knew that would be the last time I would see Amanda and Steven for a few months. “What did I get myself into,” I thought as I stepped through the door. I looked at the window and I could see Steven looking through it. His watery eyes were runny at this point. I placed my hand on his head and told him he was the man of the house, and for him to take care of Amanda. He seemed to perk up at that time.

SSG Shaw was sitting patiently in his car as if he had done this a couple of times. With my backpack slung over my shoulder, I walked out and got into the car. I looked up at the house for the last time and I could see Steven waving though the window. We backed out of the driveway and left my residence. Little did I know, it would be the last time I would see my brick home with the green trim.

Later that day the bus picked me up at the recruiter’s station and we took the ride up to Montgomery. This time we had a driver who seemed to have absolutely no people skills. That was okay considering if there was anytime to get used to “rudeness” the time was now.

That evening I arrived in Montgomery, Alabama and stayed overnight in the same motel that I did in May. My memory of that evening is a blur; I spent most of the evening talking on the phone with my wife and son and with my parents.

The next morning came early and just as I did in May, I ate breakfast and boarded the bus headed to MEPS. When we arrived at MEPS, we received the briefing: do not fall asleep, no tobacco use except in designated areas and absolutely no cell phone use in or around the MEPS building (with the exception of the liaison office).

I took my file up to the Army Reserve liaison and was directed up to the third floor. There, I was weighed and measured for body fat calculation. 226 pounds and 22% body fat. I was in the club. I had been told previously that since the Army was overflowing with personnel, they had turned away people that had already enlisted, for different reasons such as being over the body fat and/or weight that had been documented on their prior visit. I made sure this was not happening to me.

I then spoke with the same physician that gave me the green light to enlist in May, and again, he gave me the green light but this time to ship. The rest of the morning was spent sitting around. I did manage to go to the liaison office to call my wife. I was up there at around 11:00 am when I heard one of the guidance counselors say, “These expletive computers are down, AGAIN!” They didn’t come back up.

A little while later, while eating lunch, I talked with a shipper bounding for Fort Benning say that he had to stay over night because the “expletive computers are down.” I didn’t blame him for being unhappy. Like me, he wanted to get out of Dodge and get the next few months over with. However, the Marine Gunnery Sergeant walking past our table seemed to dislike the shipper’s choice of words. He yelled at this kid and then yelled at me and said “you should have raised this kid better, sir” That was when I noticed the stick on name tag had fallen off of my shirt and into my, you guessed it, chili cheese fries. The Gunney walked on.

At noon, I made it back to the MEPS building. Idling in the parking lot were several large charter buses and a few smaller buses. They were undoubtedly waiting on us, and I knew I would be on one of those buses a short time later. After checking out with the ladies at MEPS, I grabbed my backpack and walked out of the building, but not before receiving a small New Testament Bible. Little would I know how big of an impact that God’s Word would be in the weeks that followed.

There were only five of us going to Fort Knox, so I assumed we would be on a small bus. Wrong! We got one of the larger buses, yes all five of us, and we were greeted by an older fellow who said “I’m your driver. I got two rules: Do not crap in my bathroom. If you want to smoke, sit behind me.” We pulled out of MEPS and I called my wife.

During the trip a couple of the other guys used my phone. They left their phones because their recruiters told them that the drill sergeants threw phones away. “Nice,” I thought. My phone was brand new. I spent the trip pretty much to myself and talked to my wife, my son, my lieutenant at my civilian job, my parents and just about everyone listed in my phone. I also dipped some serious tobacco. I had a chaw in my mouth nearly the entire time. I knew August 4 was going to be my last day of tobacco use, and after 22 years, I wanted that habit to be gone for good. I guzzled a few sodas, knowing they were going to be my last.

Our final meal, in which we and the driver dubbed “The Last Dinner” (The Last Supper was conducted by Jesus Christ and the Twelve Disciples, not us!). I ate a steak, fries and spiced apples. I drank a gallon of sweet tea. I stuffed myself to my face to the point I wanted to die. After our meal tickets were cashed in, we got on the bus with about 130 miles left to go.

I had about three-fourths of a can of chaw left (I bought a second can on the trip) when the driver said we were about fifty miles out. I got a super-size chaw and savored it. I knew this was it. Just prior to arriving at the gate, the driver told us to police our trash and our contraband tobacco and we complied. I threw what tobacco I had left in the garbage, and spit out my last taste of tobacco for the rest of my life. Also I saw the gold depository, well, at least the lights that surround it at night,.

We got to the main gate at approximately 11:30 pm. The driver shut down the engine and we were boarded by the civilian contract police officers and military police. One of the guys said something when the military police looked at me and said “shut the expletive up you!!” I didn’t bother telling him it was me or that I was a deputy sheriff. None of that mattered anymore. I just said “Understood PFC” (Private First Class)

We entered the post and went made a turn here, passed the basic training area barracks there when we made a left turn. It was the Copple Center, the in-processing station for Ft Knox. And I hated it!

Back to the trip before arriving at Ft. Knox, all five of us were singing “Proud to Be and America,” the song made famous by Lee Greenwood and imitated drill sergeants. But when we got to the Copple Center, we shut up! We expected to be boarded by drill sergeants, getting yelled at and being told “get your sorry expletive of my bus!! When the bus came to a halt, there were no drill Sergeants, no screaming or yelling. In fact, there was no one waiting on us. No drill sergeants. No nothing. The driver told us, “here is your new home.