(I have since obtained increasing peace from this point in my life, although the memories of it have regularly haunted me prior for almost a decade. Nonetheless, I'd like to share it.
Apologies if my past actions offend anyone.)
A few months after turning 19 in 2003, I enlisted in the United States Army. I was, in large part, influenced by the money and benefits it provided (not wise, in retrospect) and, on a smaller level, had a sense of patriotic duty due to the events of 9/11 still being relatively recent. I visited the local recruiter's office and, a week or so later, was transported to the MEPS facility in St. Louis to complete the ASVAB, a comprehensive physical, and other processing requirements before taking the oath and signing the contract to enlist.
I had a considerably high ASVAB score and was able to choose from different sets of MOS's, or jobs in the military. I recall passing up a really good one (air traffic controller) to pick a combat MOS of 19-D, or Calvary Scout. Again, not wise in retrospect.
My report date back to St. Louis for OSUT (one station unit training; 16 weeks) training was four months from that point in early January. Upon returning home, my mother was not pleased with my decision (I don't blame her. I didn't even speak with her about considering this, beforehand). We did kind of work through it, though. My circle of friends were proud of me.
Fast-forward four months later, me and a barracks full of recently dropped off recruits from the night before were abruptly woken from our brief two or three-hour sleep with someone in full BDU uniform bellowing "WAKE THE F- UP!!!" If I recall right, this person ordered all of us to line up in formation outside the barracks, around 4:30 am in the wintertime in Ft. Knox, Kentucky. We were all wearing just an Army issued pair of PT sweats, our civilian shoes, and a black cap (as that was all we were briefly issued shortly after being herded off the bus, the night before), shivering against the bitter cold. After around 20-25 minutes, no one in uniform came back out to order us further. As it turns out, we were just hazed by a Private from another processing platoon who already had his BDU uniforms issued to him. Still in considerable shock over the upside-down changing of culture, we were led back inside by the older members of the platoon; to maybe get another hour so or sleep before being abruptly woken again for the real morning formation.
...welcome to the Army?
Anyhow, I'm going to skip ahead further to about the second month of OSUT training, while abridging details in order to get to the main points. Long story short, I talked myself into going AWOL and heading back home. My naive, 19-year old mind conjured up the battle plan of reporting to sick call in the morning and, on my way back to the training barracks, skipping over to the phone booths about two blocks over and calling a cab to take me to the airport. The cab driver didn't buy my story (as I still, very much, looked and had the demeanor of a recruit instead of an active service member) and refused to take me off base. Shortly afterward, a drill sergeant from a neighboring company caught me hanging around and asked (i.e. ordered) what I was up to. I answered honestly (although thinking back, I might have saved me a world of hurt by lying and telling him I was trying to sneak in a call home). He marched me back to my training barracks and into the company First Sergeant's room. The First Sergeant, after a stern talking to, took me in his civilian truck back to where my platoon was training at that day. I was then taken to one of my platoon Drill Sergeants who found out what happened.
You could accurately apply the expression "all hell broke lose" on me, from that point onward.
There's some vivid details that I don't recall (or, perhaps, don't want to recall). There was threatening and screaming in my face...and then me being taken to another Drill Sergeant's room were there was more threatening and screaming in my face (with only multiple Drill Sergeants and me inside the room). From that immediate night onwards, I was punished and placed in an extra duty/overnight watch after our platoon would return back from a day of training. I recall being in a very dark, very scared and depressed place. Word got out about my dishonorable act amongst the other Privates in the platoons--I was more or less shunned and treated like Gomer Pyle from Full Metal Jacket. Just about every Drill Sergeant knew my name now and would, from time to time, sneer it out as they saw me pass by. Here's a memory that still stings a bit to this day when I think about it: Shortly after being caught, I was called into my platoon Drill Sergeant's office as he called my mother back at home and ordered me to tell her what I did. As much as I tried to hold back the emotion, I was crying to her over the phone as I explained myself--while that Drill Sergeant mocked my crying sitting in his duty desk directly across from me.
Let me tell you: As a man, that cuts deep. That one took time and prayer, years later, to forgive.
Anyhow, in those first couple of nights as I was on extra duty/overnight watch, I tried committing suicide. ...not by cutting myself (as, thankfully, I didn't have access to anything like that) or anything overt, but by consuming at least a full bottle of pills that were issued to me while visiting sick call (I did go at other times, prior, for legit reasons). Now looking back, those antibiotic pills didn't do much besides leave me feeling a tad loopy in the morning when I was woken for PT (physical training). But as someone who was not in a sound state of mind, it was a genuine attempt.
For my attempt at going AWOL, I was issued an article 15 (military term for non-judicial punishment) and placed on 30 days of extra duty. Long story short, I ended up overcoming this (and I thank God for it) yet still couldn't shake my reputation from the platoon. Even close to two months after the incident and on the eve of graduation, certain guys still verbally abused and threatened me. About a week or two before graduation, we received our orders to where we were to report to next for our active unit. Much to my disdain, the guy who gave me the most abuse ended up being my "battle buddy" for my next duty station at Fort Drum, NY. Furthermore, a lot of the guys who didn't like me were reporting there, as well. Experiencing first-hand how quickly one's reputation changed in training, I became greatly anxious at the thought of reporting to a new, permanent unit and being treated the same (if not worse) for the next 2 years and 8 months.
Graduation went well, and family and friends made the long drive to Fort Knox to see me in my Class A's; looking like a sharp, new man. They were proud of me. Once home, I had about 10 days of accrued leave and was finally able to relax some. ...but the thought of returning back to that environment greatly bothered me. I realize I'm likely abridging considerable details, and might not quite be conveying the pain that I endured at that time, but I made the decision about a week into my leave time to not go back to the Army.
(I'd love to finish this all in one post, but I've got some things that I need to do today. I'll edit in the rest later on, when I get time).
edit: So I believe I've mentioned twice that friends and such were proud of me for joining up and graduating? Well, that changed once I decided to go AWOL for good. ..it's funny how in this world people can go from being proud of you to expressing scorn for you. About three weeks after I went AWOL, I tried to keep a low profile and one of my closest friends caught me out shopping one day. He motioned me over into his truck and we went for a brief drive. When he knew for sure what I did, I still remember what his initial response was to me (when talking about a possible solution to get me out of the Army): "Maybe I can take a sledgehammer to your leg!" The tone was the most hurtful, as he dropped me off soon after our brief conversation. Or, when I sought comfort from another close friend of mine, I made a surprise visit to his house one evening. After his initial shock upon seeing me, he told me that I couldn't even go inside his house because his mom recently started dated an ex-Special Forces veteran who would have likely had me turned in, on the spot. Or, one night as I was driving through town on a weekend night (months after), I was noticed and waved down by an old acquaintance who used to work with me at a restaurant. I was relieved to see him at first--until his then-fiancee yelled out to me from the passenger side seat, "I know you! You're the dumb*ss that went AWOL!"
^ I know these above memories are a bit jumbled. There are the ones that stick out in my mind the most during the 6 months I was AWOL and trying to figure out a solution to get out of the Army. I suppose it would be one thing if these incidents occurred from random strangers--but for them to occur from people I closely knew, especially, caused a significant amount of pain.
Anyhow, abridging this story further, my mother drove me 16+ hours to upstate New York so that I could turn myself in to Ft. Drum and be punished and discharged from the military. I spent 2 1/2 months up there, where I was eventually served another article 15 and separated from the Army with a general discharge (under honorable conditions). Like in Ft. Knox, it didn't take long for my reputation as an AWOL soldier to spread amongst the active duty population. Long story short: I didn't make too many friends while there and endured quite a bit of emotional abuse and scorn. After receiving my article 15, I was placed on 45 days of extra duty (basically working from 0600 to 2200 hours, or much later on certain occasions). Winters in Kentucky pale in comparison to those in upstate New York. There were nights where the wind chill dropped down to -30 degrees F, as I was ordered to remain outside and chip ice off the parking lots.
...man. Looking back, it's crazy how much my life changed in the span of 16 months.
All in all looking back, I realize that I wasn't ready to commit to something like the military. I more or less made the decision on a whim, and didn't take the proper time to research about it or speak to people who could help me form a more educated opinion. The inner pain it caused was intense; probably a 50/50 split from those I came across in the Army to some of my closest friends who didn't quite have my back "through thick and thin", after all.
Again: Apologies to anyone who is patriotic and is offended over my past actions. If I could do it over, I wouldn't have joined. I just wanted to share a dark piece of my past, and to say that I've also made peace with it, forgiven all involved (including myself) to the best of my ability, and have moved on.
"But as it is written, Eye hath not seen, nor ear heard, neither have entered into the heart of man, the things which God hath prepared for them that love him." - 1 Corinthians 2:9
