Since the war "ended" 66 American soldiers have died. The war is not over, and they are still there serving their country, doing their duty, and sacrificing themselves for a cause that many here are questioning. Without debating the cause that was sold to us as a reason for going into this war, I would just like to take the time to remember that it is still a dangerous situation there and many need our prayers.
This article caught my eye. Within the past year I corresponded with one of my Drill Sgt. from Boot Camp. I wanted to thank him for being the person that inspired me to turn my life around and head in a direction that would be more productive. Without him, and his inspiration, I might not be here typing today.
The reason this article caught my eye is I trained to be an MP and he is an MP. Here is a story of a hero who sacrificed his life for some others. From the description it reminded me of many of the kids I went through boot camp with. These are kids who all had their lives ahead of them.
There was Alphabet. Great kid from Washington State. He needed a job to support his new family. He was 19 years old with a 2-month-old baby. Alphabet, got his name, because his last name practically covered every letter in the alphabet. He was a very soft-spoken person with a voice that was very calming to listen to. I enjoyed hearing him speak so fondly of his newborn child.
Another of my new comrades was Big Bird. He was the last to arrive into our platoon, as the barracks were filled before they began the cycle for boot camp. We were all pressed without noses into the lockers and the lights out as he was brought into the platoon. All of us sweating it out, painfully listening as the DI's chewed him out, telling him to move faster and unpack, as we remembered just days earlier our own painful experiences of being welcomed to the platoon. Big Bird got his name because he was clearly the tallest among us. Added to his extreme height were his thin ostrich like limbs, and his beak like nose. He was a person who possessed a gentle soul. When they made him do pushups, he would list to one side because, he clearly had not been doing anything athletic for most of his young 18-year-old life. The first day, in the blazing heat of August in Alabama, he managed three or four painful pushups before he began shaking trying to hold his left side up. The DI showing no mercy had him stand and do steam engines, and even those just looked painfully awkward. Big Bird made it through though. All figured he would not make it through. He made it though, and he went on to serve his country.
Then there was Rose. Rose came into Boot Camp heavy, by far the heaviest person in the platoon. By the end he was the most muscular. Rose had skin that was as dark as coal. They went after Rose that first day, calling him fat body. As I remember it Rose was the first person in the platoon from Texas, and "There are only two things that come from Texas" and they were quite curious about which one of these two things Rose was. Why was he called Joe Cool Rose? Because Rose was his last name. Rose and I shared many an adventure, getting into trouble and saluting the CO's picture together one night for about an hour an a half, missing supper because we forgot to salute. One pass, we rented a hotel, and literally ate nothing but candy and soda for the entire weekend. Rose loved MARS bars. If you have ever seen The Green Mile, and picture that deep voice, that is the way Rose sounded. His voice, deep reverberating in his large chest cavity saying "Mars Bars", will linger in my mind forever. We watched the World Series that weekend, and were shocked to learn about the earthquake in Oakland, which had caused the game to be delayed. Rose had a great laugh and he made it through with hard work and determination. I believe he was trying to impress a girl back home if I remember right. He was in love, and hoped to marry her.
I was the Joker, and the Count. I was nicknamed another name, but I will not repeat it. I was the Joker because I was always pulling jokes in the barracks, and because quite honestly, when I smile, I look very similar to the Jack Nickolson Joker in the first Batman movie. I was nicknamed the count because when my head is completely shaved I look like the count from Sesame Street. They used to make me count pushups and count them as if the count from Sesame Street were counting them off.
There are many other tales I could tell. They fill my mind tonight for many reasons. The first reason is the story I am going to post below. It could have been any one of us. Anyone of the forty kids, just leaving home for the first time in their lives, with children back home, or a girl waiting for us, or just a kid like me, trying to get his head on straight. The second reason is that increasingly I am wondering if there was a plan of how to handle Iraq after the war was over. There is a saying about losing the battle but winning the war. The situation there feels somewhat the opposite.
I am sorry if I am rambling tonight, but my mind is back in 1989, and I am thinking about how young we were, our lives were still ahead of us.....
This article caught my eye. Within the past year I corresponded with one of my Drill Sgt. from Boot Camp. I wanted to thank him for being the person that inspired me to turn my life around and head in a direction that would be more productive. Without him, and his inspiration, I might not be here typing today.
The reason this article caught my eye is I trained to be an MP and he is an MP. Here is a story of a hero who sacrificed his life for some others. From the description it reminded me of many of the kids I went through boot camp with. These are kids who all had their lives ahead of them.
There was Alphabet. Great kid from Washington State. He needed a job to support his new family. He was 19 years old with a 2-month-old baby. Alphabet, got his name, because his last name practically covered every letter in the alphabet. He was a very soft-spoken person with a voice that was very calming to listen to. I enjoyed hearing him speak so fondly of his newborn child.
Another of my new comrades was Big Bird. He was the last to arrive into our platoon, as the barracks were filled before they began the cycle for boot camp. We were all pressed without noses into the lockers and the lights out as he was brought into the platoon. All of us sweating it out, painfully listening as the DI's chewed him out, telling him to move faster and unpack, as we remembered just days earlier our own painful experiences of being welcomed to the platoon. Big Bird got his name because he was clearly the tallest among us. Added to his extreme height were his thin ostrich like limbs, and his beak like nose. He was a person who possessed a gentle soul. When they made him do pushups, he would list to one side because, he clearly had not been doing anything athletic for most of his young 18-year-old life. The first day, in the blazing heat of August in Alabama, he managed three or four painful pushups before he began shaking trying to hold his left side up. The DI showing no mercy had him stand and do steam engines, and even those just looked painfully awkward. Big Bird made it through though. All figured he would not make it through. He made it though, and he went on to serve his country.
Then there was Rose. Rose came into Boot Camp heavy, by far the heaviest person in the platoon. By the end he was the most muscular. Rose had skin that was as dark as coal. They went after Rose that first day, calling him fat body. As I remember it Rose was the first person in the platoon from Texas, and "There are only two things that come from Texas" and they were quite curious about which one of these two things Rose was. Why was he called Joe Cool Rose? Because Rose was his last name. Rose and I shared many an adventure, getting into trouble and saluting the CO's picture together one night for about an hour an a half, missing supper because we forgot to salute. One pass, we rented a hotel, and literally ate nothing but candy and soda for the entire weekend. Rose loved MARS bars. If you have ever seen The Green Mile, and picture that deep voice, that is the way Rose sounded. His voice, deep reverberating in his large chest cavity saying "Mars Bars", will linger in my mind forever. We watched the World Series that weekend, and were shocked to learn about the earthquake in Oakland, which had caused the game to be delayed. Rose had a great laugh and he made it through with hard work and determination. I believe he was trying to impress a girl back home if I remember right. He was in love, and hoped to marry her.
I was the Joker, and the Count. I was nicknamed another name, but I will not repeat it. I was the Joker because I was always pulling jokes in the barracks, and because quite honestly, when I smile, I look very similar to the Jack Nickolson Joker in the first Batman movie. I was nicknamed the count because when my head is completely shaved I look like the count from Sesame Street. They used to make me count pushups and count them as if the count from Sesame Street were counting them off.
There are many other tales I could tell. They fill my mind tonight for many reasons. The first reason is the story I am going to post below. It could have been any one of us. Anyone of the forty kids, just leaving home for the first time in their lives, with children back home, or a girl waiting for us, or just a kid like me, trying to get his head on straight. The second reason is that increasingly I am wondering if there was a plan of how to handle Iraq after the war was over. There is a saying about losing the battle but winning the war. The situation there feels somewhat the opposite.
I am sorry if I am rambling tonight, but my mind is back in 1989, and I am thinking about how young we were, our lives were still ahead of us.....
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