Uncle (some letters from Basic training)

 

 

 

 

 

 

Dear Gloria,  

            The shear fact that I decided to do this boggles the mind. We have been mainly marching, waiting, hurrying, and hurrying up just to wait. It has been easy so far, but this is only the start of the transition.

            My last night as a civilian was spent with the Captain, the Boozer, and Scar. We spent most of the night drinking at Mojo Risen’s, a small bar on Laurel Street. We shared three pitchers of beer, which was attached to three shots of whiskey. Scar worked there so he was able to use his employee discount.

            I don’t think you have ever met Scar. Every time I meet again there was usually something new about him, rather or it was a broken leg, a scar, a chipped tooth that is now in the shape of a fang, or possibly a new girlfriend. The fang is usually the conversational piece for any combo of pint glasses.

            It was a great night had by all.

            Here’s the thing I forgot my contract and several other things in a folder. I left in Scrawny’s car who freaked worse then me when he drove home. I was back in my room when I got the call from the front desk. He had saved my life. I wasn’t in yet but I already knew the army wouldn’t put up with shit like this. However, they have hired me.

            The next morning (about 5:34) I somehow manage to go meps, where you check in for the army. This was the first place you start waiting. It consisted of being sworn in, being weighed in, and being briefed.

            The whole morning I was around people who had about 3 or 4 hours of sleep. I was still maintaining from a night of chain smoking. You can’t have a cigarette during training.

            After lunchtime myself and three other men were bussed to the Richmond airport. Then we were sent by plane to Pittsburgh from Pittsburgh to Louisville. At the Louisville airport we were then bussed to Fort Knox. Tired from the trip we were all dragging ourselves to serve our time for the U.S. government.

            Fort Knox, that was where the transision takes hold and for the most part get beaten down so far there is no way of ever being what you once were when you can finally stand up again.

            When we arrived to Fort Knox, there was of course, more processing. We were reminded not to have any cigarettes and beer, and we were handed out our pillows and blankets.

            We were all sitting in what looked like a college classroom waiting to met the first drill sergeant. He walked in and scared guy so badly he fell out of his desk. The drill sergeant didn’t even yell. I was expecting us to make us all do push ups since he blaming us for being late. Instead we had to get rid of all magazines and razor blades. I had bought a Time magazine with a soldier painted on the cover. The title was something like Are our numbers to thin. I threw it away because I didn’t want to be hassled. But I heard one sergeant tell a specialist. I would have let him keep that.

            (personal note: I haven’t smoked for 2 days.)

            After all of this what was properly keeping us awake was the fact we didn’t know what was gong to happen next. It was 4am and we were led with our bag, pillow, and blanket to the barracks.

            A specialist told us that since we were late we could only have 45 minutes of sleep. Some of the other guys thought they might as well get what they could. I figured it was pointless so I stay awake lusting over cigarettes. This was it I thought as the lights went out.

 

 

 

                                                                        YOUR VERY OWN,

                                                                                                Jason Jepson.

 

 

 

                                                                                                            Aug 31, 2003

 

 

 

Dear Mom and Dad,

            There has been a lot of information thrown around the first week Several of us are lost and some of us are to scared to ask questions. I said this a lot, it has been a lot of hurry up and wait.

            One day they had us waiting in line for immunizations, blood work, and gear all in the same day. I remind you this was just the introduction, and I’m sure I am not the only one in the barracks who is ready to just bite the bullet and move on to basic training.

            I do not regret this decision. I actually enjoy it, but the transition has been difficult.

 

 

 

                                                                                    Your Son,

                                                                                                Jason

 

 

 

 

Pine Street House,

            The first week is ending, and right now everyone is polishing their boots. I’ve been introduced to several techniques - mine still look like shit. I gave up awhile ago hoping I could go back them before what a drill sergeant calls “shipping out” to real basic training, the training, which fits your stereotype of basic training. This week as only been processing.

            One day we got for shots and this wasn’t at the bar. It took sometime, because there is 216 people in the company I am in.

            The army had us in lines straddling a bench sitting back to back chest-to-chest and crotch-to-crotch. There was no breathing room meaning no space in between each other. This torture would unveil the don’t ask don’t tell’s in our company. I kept thinking about the nurse she was making it worse several the guys had their eyes on her and with my dirty mind had to remind myself there was guy touching my chest and my crotch almost touching his unholy orvis in front of me and guy behind me who thought of the idea to put his palm on his crotch so it won’t touch the guy in front of him. This is the same guy who told me a couple minutes ago that he had to take a piss. God I love nurses.

            If it wasn’t waiting it is marching or standing for 2 to 3 hours at a time. And this was just processing which was the first week.  

             

 

 

                                               

                                                                                                            4 September 2003

 

 

 

Gloria,

            So now they have us sitting on our big green duffle bag, facing the street like we have just missed our ride. They handed water bottles out, but we’re still in the hot sun baking with the hot black top in front of our old barracks. Processing is over except the insults, your series number and your rank. We are still waiting, and the dumpster is obstructing my view. Everyone is quiet. The skies are bluer today while I had gotten use to the army green- green is everywhere and in everything. We are all ready to leave!

            But just when you thought you are going to be all the way gone, an outside force steps in with a firm grip to pull you back.

            “239-189.” A sergeant yelled.

            I stood up.

            “Yes Sergeant!”

            He waved me over. I grabbed my duffle, and walked over to where 5 privates stood. We were led by the same sergeant to CQ, and told us they couldn’t find our dental records.

            “Without Dental you can’t ship!”

            I never had a chance to get my dental work done, but it was just dental. Who cares about dental? I tell you who the army does. Since I didn’t have my x-rays or record I couldn’t ship that day.

            I was so ready to leave those barracks I must have romanticized leaving. It was some place new still in army green yet have more restrictions. I wanted to go so bad.

            Those barracks barracks seemed to be the slums of Fort Knox, and the once in charge thought we knew more then we actually did.

            I hope you received the other letters. I have my address now so maybe you can write back. Please save the letters.

            So to begin again the 5 of us were led to the dental clinic to see if something was on file. I knew there was nothing for 239-189. IN the end the rest of the four had files, but not me I had to stay behind for God knows how long.

            The fire of us were marched back to where the rest of Delta company was waiting on top of our duffle bags. I almost felt the need to throw my enormously huge green duffle in a group or sergeants, after I saw them scratch my name off the list. There were two flat bed covered trucks already waiting to be filled. As the other names were being called , I questioned it since I was only being called a number, they stood up, grabbed their duffle, and headed out. I was still sitting and later told to get out of everyone’s way.

            I watched all the drill sergeants load up the trucks, and wondered when the hell was I suppose to go.

            They left, and the drill sergeant told me to put my stuff back in my old wall locker. I did so and walked around hearing rumors that the next shipment was next week or that it wasn’t until January. January? What the hell I wasn’t staying until January. I could barely do a week here.

            The soldiers around here thought I was weird anyway, but they saw a new character. I was pissed off instead of the private going with the flow yet still feeling like a fuck up and a failure. I was starting to feel proud, however, I was starting to love the army. I had a place to sleep and three meals a day. It was a step up.

            The once that didn’t ship or couldn’t ship that day were in the room watching Saving Private Ryan. I didn’t want to see that movie again.

            Finally, we were called to formation. I went there sluggishly. I should have been shipped off. The drill sergeant told us all we had to move from our old dorms to the new once. This sucked I wasn’t suppose to be there. So we all lugged our stuff to the new barracks , and settled for chao.

            Here is the thing since, I figure this is a learning experience for you to. The way basic training is set up is that every week you move someplace new. Although everyone stays at Fort Knox even though we say ship. After a week the last thing you want to do is to stay in reception.

            After chao, we went back new barracks and guard duty was assigned. I picked the late shift, because I knew I wouldn’t be able to sleep that night. I worked the shift and slept for two hours.

            I woke up the next morning only thinking about getting my dentals reports done, and wishing I had your pearly whites. If only everything could be that perfect then we wouldn’t need an army.

            After chao, I asked for permission and of course got hassled by the usual red tape that goes along with the army. (I’m sure it is like that with any gov’t job) Finally, walked over, and waited by myself beside two other groups of recruits dressed in pt’s (workout uniform).

            When the x-rays were over and the check up, I sat back in the front room while the drill sergeant who saw me kind of flustered the day before kind of grinned at me.       

            “Still think you gonna ship?” The drill sergeant snickered.

            I over heard him tell another sergeant that it looked like they would never see me after today. I instantly thought that I could go with them even though I was with delta. (Yeah I know sounds like fraternity.)

            I asked sergeant that I actually had some respect for if I could go. He saw no problem with and seemed cool about.

            There was no way I was staying in the same week (the same barrack until Sunday.)

            I still had my paper work and I more mad rush to get my bag to sit on the green duffle waiting to leave.

            And here I am with nothing to complain about, because it is still very new. Hope school is new. Hope school is going okay please write me.

 

Jason

 

 

 

 

 

                                                                                                5 September 2003

 

 

 

 

Dear Captain,

            The last day of processing is tomorrow. This has been the first week, and we have been introduced, and only introduced by the life style that comes along with the army or so you think.

            We got the shots, they took the blood, heard about getting paid, and more army benefits. On some occasions we’ve been able to watch t.v., but still it only the first week . It’s called Holding and it wasn’t on the brochure.

            So far our names are either “private,” or “whatever is written on your canteen.” I know a few people outside of those restrictions on first name basis.

            It is amazing how much and individual in basic depends on the person that is just standing beside you. Similar to the show there have been some allies forming which are being lead by the once need support to squad leader. It kind of reminds me of high school so I don’t take part in that kind of bullshit. No regrets just attention remember the stripes don’t make the man.

 

 

           

                                                                                    ,Jason

 

 

 

 

 

 

                                                                                                7 September 2003      

 

 

Pine Street House,

            During the last formation of the day, we were are waiting for the drill sergeant to come out to here our numbers. Suddenly a lone private started running in full BDU’s down the street. Everyone in formation thought is was a poor attempt at on AWOL. The private was able to get passed our barracks as a maroon van driven by another drill sergeant stopped as he noticed the private still running.

            We are laughed even though most of us had similar sentiments. Now they are telling us  that the ship date is either Sept 29,  or Oct 2,. We haven’t technology started training yet. We are at Holding. We will defiantly miss Thanksgiving and possibly Christmas, but then again that is just a rumor.

            Today one of the only things we did was clean the barracks. We mopped, swept , sprayed the whole mother fucker, because a full bird colonel was coming and two light colonels. Colonels or no colonels God himself couldn’t make this place spotless. We cleaned for over eight hours. It was one of those jobs, which was obviously big, but there was no point to have 36 guys standing around one mop. Not that your interested in this story, but nothing has changed here. So anything more that I write will be mindless tangents in which case I don’t mind doing, because I am bored as hell…

            Yesterday, a retired tanker (19 kilo) from kilo company was here I guess to motivate us. He reminded us that this was still a good thing to do, and said how the army was spread pretty thin. He also said that we would probably go to Iraq or Afghanistan Three words were pounded into our brains like artillery shells in the distance from the M1A2 Abrams. (impressed heh heh I didn’t think so), Anywhere but here.

            The ex-tanker kept talking. I don’t think anyone really listened, because one of the drill sergeants was holding our mail against the wall. Mail call and chao are usually the best part of the day.

 

                                                PLEASE WRITE,

                                                                                    Jason

 

 

 

 

 

                                                                                                7 September 2003

 

 

Captain,

            It’s Sunday, I’ve gone to church, and now I’m watching the NFL. AAGGGHHH!

            In the second week now, and wandering if I will be able to ship out Thursday. This is how it works in Fort Knox there three phases in basic training. This isn’t it. I think I’m in white phase now, and that means I have no control over where I go or what I do.

            The transition is difficult not as much as it was in the first week though. I had an interesting conversation today at phone privileges. We talked about how tough it is to stop saying words like, “yeah,” or “what’s up.” I didn’t talk anything like that now.

            I haven’t done that many push ups, but a drill sergeant made me drop when I called him just sergeant, because he didn’t have his hat on. They never tell how many pushups you are suppose to do. They tell you when to get up. It’s like this.

            “Private first class Jericho requesting to recover drill sergeant!”

            If they say, “recover,” then you can get back up, but if not that means you have to do more.

            I did about 15. I had to do it again because sounded off, 1 sergeant 2 sergeant 3 sergeant. He corrected me a 5.

            When I get to go the Px which like CVS or Walmart I’ll be able to call some people. Since I don’t have a phone card I am afraid to call any of my friends collect.

            So far the hardest thing hasn’t been the pushups or having to wake up early. It’s the fact that control or whatever you want to call it is out of my hands. I don’t know how long I will have I don’t know how long I will have to stay here. I did get some good advice though.

            A private told me, “only listen to the sergeants and the people with the roster sheets. They will let you know if your number is being called.”

            A lot of us are looking forward to AIT.

We hear the tanks booming every night. It’s unanimous that we are want our M-16 as soon as possible. Yeah, if you weren’t here you would feel the same way. As for now nothing but down time. Monday should be busy. I hope you could understood the last letter. My address is inside please write.

Are still moving in October? Is it New York or Philadelphia? You have no idea what you’re missing in Kentucky.

 

 

 

                                                                        Your friend,

                                                                                    Jason

 

 

 

                                                                                                14 September 2003

 

 

Mom and Dad,

Yesterday, the commander of the brigade threw a pizza party. He invited the Chaplain who called it a prayer luncheon. All the recruits were crammed in to one room, and split up into eights by tables with three boxes of pizza. We are had three slices. All but one.

First time I met him it sounded like a kid who just walked into the wrong movie theatre. He told me he three years of college, and he wanted to be a professor in the field of literature. He also had clinical depression and was doing his best to be discharged. Like the kid in the wrong movie theatre he really didn’t want to be here. I figured he needed this for the same reason I needed this. The drill sergeants told him he just needed a girlfriend. Either way a strange situation in the mixed of our platoon at Holding. The discharged puked up the pizza.

This whole function was for us to meet the new recruits from Alpha which I was where I came from which a Drill sergeant told me. Either way there was pizza. Alpha was mad I didn’t recognize all of them or I could have been sitting in the wrong place. It was acceptable however, because everybody wanted to go to basic. They were learning about rank mostly at Holding.

Once basic hits it will be a definitive culture shock for the life we signed up to live. Still no one can ever get use to the waiting. A lot of the men have already questioned why they are still here. They’ve said time and time again how Holding drives them insane. A plus side to all of this is that we had been going through it all together. Right now the platoon is pretty tight. Too bad it isn’t basic. 

After yesterday, we were closer then usual, because we went to the pit. It’s a plot of land that sand bags circle. They circle mounds of sawdust. Since we were spoiled by the pizza, this activity might have put back in the mindset of training.

First we did or exercises and stretches while smoky saw dust hovered around us. It got worse when a drill sergeant had us to crawl on our stomach face down in it to the other edge of the pit. We also had to crab walk and bear crawl over. Read, my nephew, would have loved it.

We marched back to the barracks covered in saws dust and content. Some of the new recruits saw us some seemed excited, but others seemed worried. Most of us couldn’t complain.

 

 

 

                                                            PLEASE WRITE,

                                                                                    Jason

 

P.S. I just made squad leader.

 

 

                                                                                    13 September 2003

 

 

Captain,

            I gave into everything that I tried to avoid at Alpha and Bravo company- little boy bullshit. I couldn’t explain myself then. It just seemed stupid now.

            We were in line to get our heads shaved again. This was my first day to become squad leader. My first experience with having some authority over men my age. I figured they wouldn’t listen, and there is the fact we aren’t even in basic training.

            I was trying to keep the line in order myself. The drill sergeant wasn’t around. My demands or commands or maybe I should have called them request were ignored. It made since since we were all privates, and we were all on the same level. I wasn’t going through some kind of power trip. For once in my life I was trying to create order. It didn’t workout, but it doesn’t matter now. I actually talked shit back to the guys who mocked my demands. I thought it was the military but I’ve done the same kinds of things at what they call, “on the block.” It isn’t a big deal now.

            Tomorrow is Sunday, and I’ve notice that for some reason the days have been going faster.

            I’m hearing some dates go around the barracks. Potential ship dates like: Sept 25, 29, Friday, Oct 2, Oct 5, January etc. We’re all going crazy running and stuff like that. Nothing to exciting.

 

 

 

,Jason

 

                                                                                               

 

 

17 September 2003

 

 

 

Pine Street House,

            I’ve been quantined for the for the last two days with the contagious pink eye. Some of the soldiers have nicknamed me Pinky, private Pink Eye, Quantine. When I was first diagnosed with this virus, the drill sergeant told me to bag up all my linins in B wing. While I was doing this, several of the privates in B wing around in my new bunk area touching their faces and their eyes. Some even rubbed their faces in my pink eye infested pillow. Why you ask? Because the punishment for sickness in the army is luxurious. The punishment is bed rest- a day of absolutely nothing. The drill sergeants didn’t even check up on you, because they don’t want to catch what ever you got.

            My first day of bed rest was unbelievable. All I did was sleep, read, and wrote letters. My meals were served to me, and didn’t have to do a damn thing. The same guys who were walking around in my bunk space back at B wing and rubbing their faces in my pillow were coming around and asking me if I could touch them. I shook my head and laughed. I never saw anybody so willing to get sick. However, the last time was back when me and brother were made to go to Sunday school. We would have done anything just so we could sleep a little longer.

            I’m still going though second day now in quantine kingdom, but now it isn’t just mine anymore. The guys who were trying so hard to catch it finally caught it.

            There was another guy in here with strep throat, but we all decided it wasn’t in our best interest to mix viruses/ So he left and pink eye is now triumphantly stacked to the ceiling in bunks. Dinner chow will be served to us shortly.  

            I’ve been taking eye drops, and hopefully tomorrow will be my last day on bed rest. I’ve gotten in shape for the most part and I would hate to lose what I’ve gained before real basic training.

            I was glad to get out it reminded me of the pizza luncheon we had.

            I think in the last letter I wrote to you all I said something about maybe missing Christmas that won’t happen. I was wrong I will have ten days and hope to see you all sooner.

 

 

 

 

                                                                                    , Jason

 

 

                                                                                                                       

                                                                                                           

 

 

18 September 2005

The Boozer,

            The drill sergeants are now saying that we are shipping September 25. We are all hoping  this is true, but we were all told not to get our hopes up. Presently, I am Holding which is still considered reception. This is not basic. I’ve been in Holding for 2 weeks. The drill sergeants are a little bit more demanding then they were at Alpha which was the last barracks; I’ve stayed at. We all want to get out of this place.

            When we march to chow or anywhere else some the drill sergeants can turn this shitty platoon into a gospel choir. The cadence sound like the blues when we all march in step. It’s the only entertainment that we have. Honestly, I don’t mind marching in line. That’s what Holding all about. It is like a prep course for basic training.

 

 

 

 

                                                                                                            21 September 2003

 

 

 

 

Captain,

            Hopefully, your mom has been forwarding your letters. My dad and Gloria sent me the newspaper article with your ugly ass in a show window.

            My first thought is, “Right on!”

            Then I realize you were just emulating your high school and college years. The only thing that are different are the pails for your piss and feces. Didn’t you use a beer bottle. Now since you are a celebrity in the RVA you have you move up to Philly or New York. This is common sense my friend. You are obviously a big fish in a small pond. You have to move you’ve achieved the notorididy that can only come from the publicity through the prestigious Times. MOVE ON.

            In army I am finally out of quantine, and the word from the drills says, we are shipping Thursaday. So hopefully a new hell can begin for us all exiled. From the civilian world. However, there is an exodus around Christmas that will cut our training in half because of this delay. Despite our detour spirits are high with every closing day before our shipment down range . The real shit is about to begin.

            Friday night we actually allowed to go out/ We saw Fort Knox’s high school football team get stomped 35-6. The drill sergeant said because of the loss we will have to suffer on Monday. Normally we suffer anyway on Monday. Most of didn’t even watch the game. The 17 to 19 year old baby faces were out drenched in their perfume, and not to impressed with our BDU’s The others were attacking the concession stand filled with popcorn, pizza, candy, coffee, etc. This was food we wouldn’t normally be able to eat.

            I did my best not to check out the younger women and the older women at the game. The drill sergeants said that the girls and women at this particular game could be the daughters of drill sergeants and officers in the army.

            “Do not look at them. Their parents can and will make your life hell.”

            I took this under consideration. I don’t know if you heard this or not, but one of the first times I was at the PX (post exchange) I saw a girl working cashier. It has been several days since I saw a girl, and I was staring at her like she was a painting in an art gallery. As my luck would have either dad was a drill sergeant. The same drill sergeant who was advising us on what to buy. I can’t believe I was staring at her so hard. I think a part of it was just day dreaming. Maybe I forgot I was staring at her. Since then I thought maybe that particular drill sergeant would be gunnin’ for me in the future.

            That’s about it the main vibe is Thursday, we’re all shooting for it. Write back if you feel like it. Did Athena tell she wrote me. I just wrote her back. If you’re still in Richmond tell Heather and the other Heather I said hello.

            Presently, I’m going through jazz withdraw. Mainly, Coltrane for some reason. Today I woke up with My favorite things going through my head, but no one else heard it. I started whistling it but it didn’t even come close to the soprano saxophone in my brain. If I keep giving in to this spirit I might get a section 8. Drink a beer and take up smoking asthma boy. I’ll be back Christmas.

 

 

, Jason

 

 

 

 

                                                                                                            23 September 2003

 

 

 

 

Gloria,

            When I ever I write you I seem to be on guard duty. Either on guard or guarding a very armed facility for the good of our country. A cigarette would be good right now. I didn’t volunteer for this I would rather be sleeping. Despite guard duty, however, there has been some good news. We are finally shipping for basic Thursday. It is about time. I think we have been here for about a month, and it is all getting to us.

            Holding isn’t basic it was a stop on the tour which will help us but it doesn’t get us any closer to leaving for our first assignment.

            I got your last letter and it is good to know that you’ve met a friend. I honestly don’t miss college, because of the same reasons you mentioned in the letter. I was never too good on the social side, but there is more of a variety in college then there is here. After awhile we all plateau it takes just a week in the army, but out there I guess it is when you turn 30.

            Has your ex-boyfriend Jason even tried to pay you back? I suggest you beat’em to a pulp. I should have done that when I had the chance.

            Thanks for the newspaper article.

            Please write and tell Captain to do the same.

 

 

 

, Jason

 

P.S. Blistering tension sizes us all up or just leaves us doing pushups. There have been several potential fights lately. Most of the reasoning is bullshit, and it would safe to say that everyone is tired of being here. Not to mention we haven’t seen our friends and family in awhile.

            There is a big stocky guy who earlier in our stay at Holding lost some of my respect. He’s kind of overweight, but when he yells out the cadence even the armor of the tanks displayed shake like Homecoming Queens in sundresses. He never gives up, and he is afraid to tell anyone that he refuses to do so.

            This was made apparent to me, one day during pt (physical training). We were all burning, and some of us were searching for strength to go on. This man was saturated in sweet, and still stepping with the “jack rabbits,” the once that seem to have I

eternal endurance. He stuck with it, but suddenly his muscles gave out. Muscle failure was one of the drill sergeants best friend.

            The drill sergeant noticed this and had him stand up, and stop exercising. This tank from North Philly could have been recognized anywhere. The drill sergeants told him to take deep breathes.

            “I’M ALRIGHT DRILL SERGEANT!”

            “Settle down Jenkinns. Relax.”

            “I’M ALRIGHT DRILL SERGEANT!”

            He took deep breathes as sweet pulled down his face. His hand involuntary shook as another private told him to put his arms above his head. He did so. Everyone started thinking he would drop causing the whole ground to cave in. His arms were now down and his fist were clenched tightly as if the act of standing was torture. He wouldn’t fall

            I went quickly over to him with my canteen, and threw some water on him. Some men in the platoon questioned this action. The eyes wondered why anyone would use  their thirst quenching water on someone else’s fatigue. He had my respect and he never fell.

            Lately there is been two stand offs that he has been the center of. 2 days ago, there was an urinal uprising. It started very similarly to a middle school locker room shouting match. I knew the Tank wasn’t going to throw in punches, but the other was unknown to me except the fact he was in the Cav like me. I assumed by the fear in his expression that he never or hardly ever been in this type of situation with a black man. I got in front of the Tank so we were chest to chest. Tank would of beat him. I thought it was funny. I held my laughter in and just smile. The other guy seemed scared some how he managed to leave the bathroom. The Tank followed. I started pushing him back a little with my chest all he was dong was talking shit. I was more concerned about the other guy. The cav scout left and I figured he would tell one of the drill sergeants.

            So there is an example of my heroism in the army. If you’re swooming please stop, because this is not even basic training. I usually hang with the tankers not the Cav.

            The kilos or tankers are the once shipping out Thursday tomorrow. I was hoping that my number would be called, but it never was. I have to be here for another week that means that my first week which is called reception lasted over a month. This is the army. I keep hoping its all just a brain fuck, but I know this all only the beginning. I never thought that the beginning could take this much of a tole on someone.

            Hopefully I’ll see you around Christmas.

 

 

 

 

,Jason

 

 

 

 

 

                                                                                                            24 September 2003

Mom and Dad,

            I just got your letter about your situation after the horrific Hurricane Isabel. I am so glad to hear that everything is okay. I tried calling a couple days, but I guess I was thinking about something else. I for some reason dialed the wrong area code. I was just thinking, and I didn’t have my address book.

            Unfortunately, now at Holding I am no longer the squad leader, because of pink eye. Pink eye had been running wild throughout the barracks for awhile. I had to give up the pen. Sad but true. I am not in basic yet. Holding is like a preparation before basic training. I thought I told you that in one of the letters that I wrote you. This will take longer then what was expected. I will ship out a week tomorrow hopefully.

                                                                        Talk to you soon,

                                                                                                Jason

 

 

 

 

                                                                                                            28 September 2003

Captain,

            Now they are telling us its Thursday again. I was excited at first but now after personal experience I know it isn’t concrete. Nothing is here except for lights out, pt (physical training), and chow.

            One regulation I have never followed was to find a “battle buddy,” and stick with them. I usually just went off in my own direction.

            “This one tend to wander.” I heard one Drill Sergeant say to another.

            My battle buddy is Vileyus the atheist, an 18 year old whose fairly smart or at least smart enough to wonder if this is where he wants to be. But back at home he says, “All my friends and I use to do was sit around and do nothing. Think of all the time we wasted.”

            The Atheist won’t waist time, and 18 year olds want a little big time experience before they die. Yesterday, he talked about his sex life. He had more experience then I did. He also told me about 4 girls back home he probably be able to get with three of them which are virgins. I kept in mind he isn’t a player or at least that’s what he said. He’s an Atheist, and reminds of how some of my friends are back in Richmond. He could have hung out at the membrane.

            He’s been here since July, because he had pneumonia which made him fail his pt test 6 times. People will do anything to get out of reception. We have too much time here where are you can do is think. Men either think of their wives back home or wonder if Hollywood was correct with their perception of basic training. A new private asked someone in my platoon.

            “Do they hit you here.”

            The once listening almost bursted out laughing, but the private was almost in tears.

            A private in my platoon reassured him.

            “No they aren’t allowed to hit you anymore.”

            If you recall from U.S. History. U.S. soldiers were called “doughboys,” Now since was isn’t being fought with hand to hand or trenches but with just the press of a button . We are spoiled. We are deceptive. There are some lies going around behind my back. I figure someone sees me as a threat for whatever reason. It’s pointless high school shit which makes since a lot of these guys either just graduate or just received their ged’s I won’t let that hold me back. This isn’t basic.

            Thanks for last letter, and the pictures from Chuck E. Cheese. How is that 26 year old? Write back keep me inform. My address won’t change for about 14 weeks. The journey is still uphill.

 

 

, Jason

 

 

 

 

                                                                                                            3 October 2003                                                                                                          

Gloria,

            During the day we were shipping just about all of 250 of us were in line to give back our linens. There was a confrontation but first here is some background.

            In the army we have to have battle buddies. Mine was the 18-year-old atheist who said he was ready to “live,” been there done that.

His name was Vilyus; but I called him Vilyus the atheist. He came from the typical suburban background outside of Cleveland, Ohio. He showed me pictures of his friends.

            They were all standing in a parking lot of a strip mall. Old Vilyus waned to alleviate some of his mop haircut with three still impressionable young females. While I was thumbing through his pictures he was bragging about his sex life with the three girls. He had a chance with all three or so he said. I faked interest about the guys and gave him my own insights about the three girls. The two guys in the picture who were flamboyantly gay, he said. It made since why he would think he had a chance. The rest of the conversation was about his neighborhood.

            He’s a smart kid. I think he was trying to impress me.

            The Atheist told me how he and a friend of his were being bullied by this martial arts grappling champion drunkard at a friend’s party. I left . I was tired of his story.

 

 

18 Oct 2003

Dear Mom and Dad,

 

Even though we were shivering and exhaling fog yesterday, the firing range was and uplifting experience for all of us. Firing a weapon has to be the backbone of the army, because it puts everybody in a good mood.

I shot fairly well considering it was only my third time to do so. We had three targets. One was set up at 75 meters, the other 175 meters, and the last one was 300 meters away. The last one gave me some trouble, but the other targets were mastered with 8 hits , 2 misses for 75 meters, and 16 hits 4 misses for 175 meter target. The qualifying day is Wednesday of next week.

Here is a typical day. We usually wake up at 05:00 hours. Some earlier if the fire guards whose was on duty remembers to wake them up. We stand on red line wearing either our BDU’s (camouflage uniform) or p.t. uniform (workout clothes). The red line in ables us to stand facing another person with our backs against the wall, and we stand at attention. It is a very narrow hallway which messes with the mind of every soldier. It definitely messes with our minds when someone makes the drill sergeant angry, and we have to make a dog pile on the floor tile for pushups. In his compromising position, butts are in faces, and boots are pinching fingers. You can’t complain though because the drill sergeant will only make you do more or just make us stay in that position. We are squeezed in there until chow.

Chow is at 06:20 am, and it is one of the best parts of the day. Especially morning chow because of the amount of time from evening chow to morning chow.

            There is a long wait for 4^th platoon (I had to transfer from 3^rd platoon). We stand at parade rest and then move to a position of attention when it is time to step forward. Accountability is taken by a lady at a desk near the trays for the line. We have to yell out our last four digits of our social security number. After chow we get back into formation and march back to the barracks.

            During the first week we had classes at this time. But this week we’ve put on all of our gear such as rack sack (back pack), Kevlar (helmet), and LB’s. Then we get onto a bus and drive to a firing range.

            At the end of our time at the firing range, the tips of our noses are stained in black, looking similar to charcoal. This happens because while you shoot a M-16 , your nose has to be touching the charge handle for an accurate aim. You relax, breathe in, and breathe out. Finally you squeeze the trigger. It seems simple enough, but we are all still having some trouble.

            One of the best smells in the army, in my opinion, used to be shoe polish. But now it is the smell of a M-16 after a discharged magazine, and an empty chamber. It has the new car smell that I have never heard anyone complain about. I highly reckomend everyone firing a M-16 or maybe buying one.

            We just got back from the confidence course, and I didn’t do so well. I regret my performance on a rope obstacle. I’ve never been able to climb up a rope! Everything else was okay.

            I have found that blending in is difficult thing to do like the cadence goes, “Everywhere I go there’s a drill sergeant there…”

            I have to say I am very excited about Christmas Exodus. It starts December 19 and goes to Jan. 3. I am planning on riding a bus home. Don’t worry about money, I’ve got it covered. I figure it is about 62 days until exodus. I’ll see you then.

 

Love,

Jason

 

 

10/19/03

 

 

Captain,

            In the mess hall there is a huge banner above the food being served on medium size porsalin plates. It reads : 5-15 First one’s in, Last one’s out. This is why I love the cavalry, but excess bullshit that comes with training is dragging me down. The mondame details like accidently calling your drill sergeant , “sergeant.” I understand why they are doing this. Syria harbors terrorist and I raq seems to be always an issue. Yesterday at the firing range the instructor mentioned both places, and compared it to Vietnam. I haven’t seen the news in awhile, and I don’t know how the majority feels. I understand the ant-war opinion even though it contradicts everything I am learning now. Not to mention I am actually a descent shot at the firing range. The further  the targets are away the harder it is for me to hit them, but I think it is like that for most in the barracks.

            The next week in the last week of red phase. We have six phases in all. One requirement for red phase is to qualify with our weapon that means to zero in on the target for a group of three shots in a 4cm space or circle. I am nervous, but I think I can do this. Thursday after we went to the firing range all of us came back with black smudges on the tip of our nose, because while firing a M-16 in the prone position or the foxhole, the tip has to be touching the charging handle. The charging handle is the part of the weapon that locks and loads the round in the chamber. One thing you don’t want to do it to put your eye up next to it, because if you do it, it will result in a black eye. I currently have a blue streak underneath my right eye, but luckily my BCG glasses cover most of it up.

            BCG’s are glasses that the army issues. BCG stands for Birth Control Glasses which mean that these glasses we have to wear are so bulky and ugly looking that no woman would come close to you- even for a hand shake. Unfortunately they aren’t the classic black framed once that you see in the movies. Instead, they are a shit brown.

            Today is Sunday and Sunday’s are different here compared to the Sunday’s at holdunder. Gran it, it is a relax day, but we are not assigned anything to do. There are no Tv’s or newspapers which mean no contact of the outside world. I miss reading the newspaper with coffee. For some reason we are allowed to drink coffee, and I think the coffee here taste like the House of Waffles coffee back in the small town blend. Like the cadence goes, “They say that in the army the coffee’s mighty fine (who says that) It looks like muddy water, and it taste like turpentine.”

            Have you moved yet? I haven’t been writing to you, because I am unsure about the exact date. Are you in The smalltown blend? If you are you should hangout with my brother he is only a block away, and you’ll have the benefit of seeing my nephew. His number is ****.

            Thank you for the pictures and letters you’ve sent me. I really appreciate it.

            I just heard good news. I get to go home December 19-Jan. 3 for Christmas exodus. I am thinking it will probably be a bus. We are all looking forward to it. There are only 2 months left till then.

            Have you been hanging on to my letters. Here are some stamps. If you are tired of looking at them you send them to my parent’s house. ****

            Please keep me informed with the extremes of America. The very thing that UCMJ (army law) says is keeping America separated. Conformity seems to work for the army, but I am still being smoked for the stupidest things. Where ever you are remember to represent. Hopefully I can see you around Christmas.

 

,Jason

 

 

Mom and Dad,

 

You have probably heard from Philip by now about my BRM (Basic Rifle Maintenance) qualification, if not, now you know. I am a qualified mark smith, and I passed to white phase which is the next stage of training.

We just had the infiltration course. This course requires a lot of low crawling which feels like barbed wire to the scrapes on my arms.

One way to crawl is the low crawl. This is when one side of your helmet and face is in the dirt, and you throw your hands out while you lie on your stomach, and use your firing leg or your right knee to push you forward. There is a problem that often occurs. While low crawling the soldiers tends to veer off to the left this makes his journey seem longer. To straighten out, the soldier has to tug on his left cargo pocket with his left hand, and slide his head up so he can see where he should be. I have to do this a lot.

There are two infiltration courses. One is day time. One is night time. To get ready for the day we first have to learn how to cover someone.

Your battle buddy would yell out, “Cover me while I’m moving!”

You yell, “I got you covered!”

Your battle buddy would then yell, “Weapon on safe, Movin,” as he would run to an obstruction lying between him and the “enemy.”

The same thing is done over and over, and the roles, as well as, what is said are changed.

Before the real thing we went through the mock one. It has rained the last couple of days so the course had puddles sprayed sporadically throughout, and the terrain was muddy.

            Here is some background information. A couple of days ago we had a SST test. This test is information taken from out of the soldier manual so we can be tested on. Some of the things we were orally tested on was military time, rifle maintance, rank structure etc. Another one was addressing an officer. The officer was actually a drill sergeant. I knew how to do this even though in a real setting I do my best to avoid an officer. But I step with my right foot and not my left. This was while he was talking the usual drill sergeant trash.

            “Oh not this guy. Just go ahead and sit down.”

            I went ahead sat down like I thought he told me to do with a grin. He saw the grin as a smile and promptly plotted revenge.

            This particular drill sergeant pointed me out of the handful of soldiers still waiting in line.

            “Jepson, fall in over here.”

            He, of course, wanted me to fall in a line that most of us were trying to avoid. The reason we were trying to avoid it was because there was a puddle in the middle of it. We were already freezing wet and caked in peat moss.

            I started crawling while freezing and hacking up the residue from what I thought was my sinus infection. The ground ripped the skin away from my elbows. I reminded myself I wasn’t the only one with burning elbows.

            “Ahhh It’s Jepson!” The drill sergeant yelled as another one came over. Both of them weren’t even in charge of the platoon I was in.

            “Why are you so slow Jepson?”

            My glasses were smeared with the mud. My knees felt bruised and disfigured while my elbows lost feeling.

            “Your battle buddies have left you, Jepson. You are moving as slow as a turd!”

            I kept moving and hacking, hacking and moving.

            When I was finally able to stand back up again, I noticed how behind I really was. I had to rush to get in step with the rest of my platoon as they prepared for the day infiltration course.

            This “sinus infection” was making me unlawfully slow.

            We had all of these contraptions attached to us and our rifle. They were leftovers from the old school possibly Vietnam. We were forced to wear old training equipment that would normally be used for a laser tag kind of live combat situation. We weren’t using it for laser tag though. It was used as extra dead weight that we had to carry. Our rifle had the transmitter attached to it, and a red box at the end of the barrel.

            Each squad in our platoon was then matched with another squad so the platoon would be split up.

            This was where our fun started. We were at the bottom of a hill, and were suppose to storm up it like in a real combat situation. We all had fun with it as we lay in the prone unsupported position, decorating our BDU’s and helmet with mud and leaves on the ground. Most of the helmets looked like a floral decoration you would see at an old lady’s house. We were all really in to it.

            Every once in awhile we were waiting in line someone would yell, “Let’s take the hill!” or “Viet not!”

            This was in the midst of war recordings being played from speakers attached to the trees. The recordings were screams and explosions making the battle more realistic.

            Our mission was to always make sure our buddies are covered as we advanced up the hill, elbows burning, knees bruised with no feeling after pressing against roots and tiny pebbles on the ground.

            At the peak, “they” were firing at us. “They” were volunteers who the drill sergeants decided on to make this situation more real. “They” could only fire blanks, and we returned with the same. 

            I let my battle buddy finish or go ahead of me. When we finally came to the end of the course, he ran out of the course which left me alone with blanks. There was someone a couple of yards in front of me firing. I let some others go in front of me, as I fired back at the stranger wearing the same camouflage I was wearing. After a couple aimed shots to his head and torso, I stood up and walked to the finish line. I turned the corner and took out my magazine. I noticed who I was shooting at. It was Von, who is the squad leader. My jaw dropped, I felt terrible, and I couldn’t believe how swept away I became. I was swept away towards something that was obviously fake.

            I just kept staring at him, and he laughed.

            The drill sergeant said, “You would probably be one of the once…” That’s all he said. I had no idea what he meant by that.

            I started walking back from the artificial war as I heard the squad leader tell someone else, “That’s loyalty.”

            Back in formation, there was no afternoon chow, and still a full day ahead of us, but at least the sun was heating things up a little bit. I was still cold.

            Next we got on some buses and went to the night infiltration course. The instructor informed us about the barb wire, the live rounds that will be fired over our heads as we complete the course, and the flares being shot at us.

            These instructions ended in a warning, “Keep your ass down and stay away from the flares!” Easily digested.

            The instructor then went on a tirade. The tirade began as the instructor told the story about the hostage situation in Iraq. You remember with the medics. Wasn’t her name Jessica or something like that? The instructor didn’t have the highest opinion of her. During her capture her and her crew never fired one shot off. They had their rifles, but they never tried to escape. They just surrendered. The instructor slammed a sandwich board down that had the description of the event. He then told us that a lot of soldiers in combat arms were killed during the rescue. She sold her story for a million dollars.

            Cav scouts are combat arms, and that sounded like a recon mission. No regrets here, as they say in the Calvary- “If you ain’t cav, you ain’t shit.”

            At this point of the day, I was hacking up some blood, sneezing ever so often, and feeling miserable. I was so tired I had forgotten how to give up.

            We went through the night course with the lights starting to dim signaling the end of the day. This was a practice run, and I was lucky enough to find the puddle so the sand would collect to me in clumps. I was the last one through the puddle, under the barb wire, low crawling etc. but not the only one on the course.

            There were three drill sergeants making sure I was still sliding closer to the end.

            This was only a practice run, and we still had to go that night.

            “Put your face in the ground!” A drill sergeant yelled.

            Sand was creating its own layer on the lens of my glasses. It felt like sandpaper was literary dragging across my elbows, chest, and knees. I still slid closer to a concrete wall which was the end of the course. I rolled off and ran to the boundary where the sand and dirt met.

            The drill sergeant followed. They surrounded me like great whites surrounding a surfer.

            “Why the hell did you join the Army?!” One yelled.

            Some others yelled their obscenities and profanities in my face. All I could do was stand at ease hoping that my knees wouldn’t give.

            Luckily my lenses were smeared with a watery residue so I didn’t have to actually see who were causing me to become angrier by the second.

            Next was chow, I ate my food shivering and hoping a lightening bolt would strike me dead right then and there. No such luck. I had to do the course again.

            The light gave way and the darkness took control in waves. It was time for us to go through it again.

            There were rules added to this trip though. We could only move when it was dark which sounded easy since the sun had gone down. This is while tracer rounds would be fired. They lit up the sky like orange fire crackers. There was also the same war recordings were being played, duds would also be shot off into the sky, and flares thrown.

            When the flares touched the ground, we were supposed to stop low crawling. When the temporary illumination burns out is when you find out how close you are to the end of the course. When the flares go out you start low crawling again.

            It was the same course, but this time I wasn’t last. I happened to beat a member of my old platoon.

            My strength was beyond me, and everything around me reminded me of the freezing cold. The sinus infection felt like the war now.

            The buses came to take us back to the barracks. Everything was coming out red. 

            Myself and another soldier had to stay back and grab the gear that was forgotten by our platoon. When we finally got on, we were on 3^rd platoon’s bus instead of fourth.

            The bus driver played music from a new rock radio station. The one’s who knew sang along. I tried to keep my head up so I could stay awake.

            We finally arrived back to the barracks. We turned in our gear and tried to confine all the mud and sand on our equipment to one area. We swept what we could, and finally took a short cold shower, because the hot water for some reason was turned off. Lastly we are slowly yet willingly went to sleep.

             I may have gotten pneumonia. My voice was fading to a hoarse, then to a whisper, and I was still spitting up blood. So I went to sick call thinking my muscles needed to go AWOL.

            The morning was a blur. The doctor gave me bed rest, and it made me feel worse. I felt guilty, because other people in the troop deserve the same thing.

            Here’s the bad news, bed rest wasn’t back at the barracks, and instead, it was in the troop commander’s office building. We slept on cots right beside our first sergeant and Captain.

            Normally this would be nerve bending, but luckily we were so sick and slightly daze from the night before that I had no trouble getting to sleep.

            The next day I went back for a check up, and I was feeling better. They took some blood and I immediately went back to training.

            I think I told you this over the phone last week. The blood test said I am anemic.

            This isn’t a concern of mine, because at every meal, I’ve made sure to eat a banana. I personally would like to explore this issue to see if this will be a problem for me later in life.

            As for now we have just come back from throwing a grenade. The brochure said we would throw two, but we only threw one.

            It was an M-33 highly explosive. This thing could probably do a lot a damage to a car. We all had a lot of fun.

            My Halloween was spent in the gas chamber. This was a major event in basic, because it didn’t matter how strong or how smart your are. The tear gas turned everyone into an arms flapping, featherless baby chick with glazed over donut eyes coughing up every inch of his insides. However, my sinus condition seemed better than it had in days. I could breathe clearly without an obstruction in my nose or throat. 

            Next we started our 8K road march.

            Road marches happened to be one of my favorite things to do. Especially this one, we got to see a new area of For Knox. Most of the time we had been confined to the area around our barracks, but this was like a field trip. We hiked up Misery and hiked down Agony with our distance intervals almost perfect. 

            Tomorrow we can talk on the phone for a half-hour. This is our reward for doing so well on the grenade course.

 

            Please write back, and remember to save the letters.

 

Jason

 

 

27 November 03

Mom and Dad

            “Think War,” were the words of the sergeant major earlier in the day.  Happy Thanksgiving. We have the day to ourselves. We can do whatever is offered, but we can’t leave the brigade area. In theory we would be able to go to such places as the Px (store like Walmart) or someplace that offers real food or junk food, but it’s Thanksgiving and they’re closed. The real meal is at 11:30 that is what I’m waiting for as my laundry spins in the dryer. 

            It is cold, wet, rainy, and unpredictable. Standing in formation, I was starting to shiver as I stared at the shitbird in front, who never seems to stand up straight. Water trickled down from his earlobes as he raised one foot and then the other as if he was performing a rain dance to make the sun come out. The first sergeant called us all shitbirds.

            There will be movies shown to us in the squadron classroom. Walking by after the sergeant majors briefing, I saw a table piled up high with potato chips. We are not allowed to go in there yet. We are allowed to use the phones, but the people I know in Richmond are away, and I don’t have there phone number. My other family, just recently formed, aren’t phased by the rain, but they are soaking up the extra bit of freedom rarely given to us. We are looking forward to the junk food, and we have been for warned by a drill sergeant that out pt (physical training) test is tomorrow. We ignored the command, and I am willing to pay the price tomorrow.

            I figure you are in California right now, and I hope the weather is better then it is here or was, by the time you read this you should be back home. In three weeks you can tell me face to face.

            We just came back from the Thanksgiving spread. I was able to sneak a nap. I had to sneak, because we are not allowed to take naps today.

            It was in the laundry room. This would be the best place, because it gave me an alibi if I did get caught. My clothes are sitting on top of the dryer, the lights are out, and the door is closed. If a drill sergeant comes down the long narrow hall, hopefully I wouldn’t be in a deep sleep.

            I deserve that nap, and today’s relaxation. I carried the M-240 (machine gun) the whole week which consisted of a 10K road march. During which I had been the most tired, but I never fell out of formation. I did, however, develop a very close relationship with my M-16 A-4 which is 7 pounds. The M-240 bravo is 25-27 pounds. I’m sure you notice the difference. I’ll see you soon.

 

Your son,

Jason

 

30 November 03

 

Friends on Pine Street,

            3 weeks until (when I come home will be on my birthday) and there are so many soldiers here who are planning on either getting married or asking their girls to marry them. It’s the last day of November, and we’ve received our assignments a couple of days ago.

            After training and exodus, I will be stationed in Fort Irwin, which will be close to Las Vegas in the desert. Deployment is imnent for most of us. A few are going to Korea and some Iraq. There are some in the troop who were unhappy to find out that they had to spend their three years right here at Fort Knox. I am glad I am not one of them.

            Thank you for the last letter you sent me. It has been awhile since I’ve been able to write you all. Hope everything is going well, and hope you’ve patched the holes that for Isabel made in your house. I’ll be there to see it on December 19, and also be there to pickup those disks so I can finally get my book edited.

            Fort Irwin is a training facility so I won’t be deployed to the combat zone. I am kind of disappointed by this. It’s hard to explain, because I am still against the war or war in general. But I won’t be satisfied sitting on my ass while one is going on.

            They’re Christmas carols now. I can’t concentrate with the last thought. Everyone here is just anxiously awaiting exodus.

            Anyway… war… We are fighting a gorilla warfare with a class of people who were once the ruling class. They want their power back. There is always the oil issue, and there’s the fact Sadam is probably the worst dictator of our time. You can take it from the bible or any literature. Sometimes it is a just cause to pick up arms and fight. Cav scouts look for the war to set up the front lines.

            The bad thing is war is expensive, and from everything I’ve read sent to me by my parents and relatives (which is considered to be contraband) says this war as very low public opinion.

            The drill sergeants main job is to keep us motivated infavor of defending our country, and to get ready for war. Honestly because of this experience I don’t question the army, the soldiers, enlisted men etc. but however I will always question the intentions of our government. Enough of that.

 

I am looking forward to seeing you. Save a Pabst Blue Ribbon for me.

Please write back.

 

 

,Jason

 

 

9 Dec 03

 

Dear Lady and Gentlemen,

            Ten more days, and I’ll be on a bus with my class A’s on coming home. I’ll be 23, anxiously awaiting alcoholic indulgence with you naughty headed punk kids. It feels good to be apart of the problem especially when there’s no solution. Excuse the last statement, I’m very lazy, and just ready to come home. I haven’t gotten any letters from you all so I am hoping that all is well, and that all you mother fuckers won’t be getting coal this year for Christmas.

            I’m getting a professional editor for myself, because yes I still have inspiring hopes to getting a book out. It may happen.

            For those of you who are still going to school, I hope exams went well. Tell John M. congratulations for graduating college. For you still working the shit jobs, I hope you can get some time off from that cert of mistreatment to hangout with yours truly. I’ll be in town for two weeks.

            Today we disassembled, reassembled, performed function checks, and cleared the M240 Charlie machine gun which is usually mounted on the M3 Bradley tank. I LOVE FIREARMS. This is also something I am good at, but unfortunately something I won’t be getting for Christmas. Seriously though if you all ever get a chance to mess around with one or even fire one, I highly reckomend it.

            I haven’t been able to drive anything yet.

            This is the last week until we go home.

            We phased Friday which means we are out of basic, and now into AIT or so they say. It’s pretty disorganized now. The drill sergeants are looking forward to exodus to. It was never that difficult but now it’s hard to believe that the soldiers here are being trained for “war”, and the drill sergeants have a very apathetic attitude which expressed, “just do it so I can get the hell out of here.”

            No problems here.

            Today there was an artificial Christmas tree that was spinning around in the mess hall. As unmanly as it sounds it gave me a child’s grin, and hope that comes from knowing it’s almost over.

            During evening chow there was a boombox next to the tree, playing Rocking Around the Christmas Tree. Some of us in the chow line even sang along. Luckily there was no drill sergeant around to make us do push ups during this slight taste of season’s greetings. Yes believe it or not I am definitely in the spirit. So be prepared it will enhance with the amount of beer.

            Hope you all are around when I get home.

 

, Jason

 

1/4/04

 

 

Captain,

            Let me tell you how much I want a cigarette. I don’t even have a craving. I just have the feeling that makes your knees knock and your palms stick to your BDU’s. We just took a piss test, and since we have been drinking copious amounts of water only to wait in line having to piss on the down low. This situation helps disguise the craving for a cigarette or the Jone’s. This is all very real now.

            It was cool seeing you until you started talking about the zombie Apocalypse. Why? Although an interesting topic when you have time to kill.

            I said this before and I’ll say it again, move out of Richmond.

            I hear the buffer down the hallway. People are still in line for the piss test, I’m debating rather or not I should have smoked so many cigarettes. No I made the right decision.

            That guy at the party on New Year’s Eve holding the joint with the Duke sweatshirt is on my mind. However, I didn’t smell anything that may seem to be illegal or could get me into trouble, but if you were watching me, my first instinct was to light up of cigarette separating me and the might be joint. He could have bought dirt. I guess I will find out tomorrow if it was real or not.

 

 

1/12/04

 

Captain and whoever,

            Graduation is close, and we are all counting down the days. Then it is to California. I can honestly say I probably won’t see you for awhile, but when I get email we’ll keep in touch.

            I just got back the pictures from New Year’s.

            “You’re friends with freaks!” Someone told me.

            The evening seemed surreal to me personally. I can’t even begin to explain some of the head games. Is this the military or is it everyone. Most be everyone.

            I figure you won’t be around anymore to hangout with. I’m tied down now, but life is better after basic. I’ll take advantage of the army and get out probably. Hopefully, with money and a bachelors degree. I am constantly reminding myself that Vegas is close.

            I told you over the phone that I gave Gloria a similar letter, but I guess her could be seen as more sentimental.

            I have no idea how to describe to you about the experiences here. The highs and the lows can really weigh you down so much so you wish you could do more push up to get your mind of things.

            I still think you should move out of Richmond, and when you find a new place tell me. It’s a college town, man, it isn’t for you. You’ve got your degree move on.

            During my 2 weeks stay in Richmond wasn’t too weird. It kind of was for me. Anyway it doesn’t matter now.

            I hope you can continue painting and hanging out. You have no idea how much I wish I could do that right now.

            Today was a bad day. We did some work with the MK-19. This is a big ass gun that shoots 44mm rounds. We had to assemble it and disassemble it. This normally would be easy for me since machine guns and grenade launchers have similar parts to them. But when 2 NCO’s and a couple of officers are staring you down and throwing you out instructions you can get flustered. At least I did.

            I can’t believe Will was hanging out. I can barely get that guy to leave the house. Gloria was there to. I was sorry that I couldn’t hangout with her more. I guess we are all separating in our own lives now. I personally feel a lost for words. I can’t tell you or thank you enough for being only a few blocks away. I’ll miss trips to 4^th street diner and beer runs. Hopefully, I can leave the chain smoking in Richmond, and go to California with better lungs also a better outlook on things for at least 3 years. I hope to see you in California if you ever get the opportunity.

 

Sorry if this letter just rambles. Please write.

 

, Jason

 

16 January 2004

 

Mom and Dad,

            Graduation is February 5, on the fourth families can spend 2 hours

 With their soldier so if you want to come up and stay over night that’s okay. After graduation though they are pushing us out to our duty station. So if you could bring my CD’s and some books I would appreciate it. Reality is hitting me right now. I wish I could talk to someone in Richmond or Gloria in Williamsburg. I’m bad  with meeting people. You can ask around the barracks. I’m trying though and I am not as bad as I used to be.  I’ve met great people here.

            I’m thinking about taking the ASVAB test at Fort Irwin again. I want to see if I can be a journalist.

            The drill sergeant brought up a good point. He said, “I better not see your names in the Army Times (the newspaper).

            He said this to the people who are late deploying.

            There’s journalism and there is the dream of being the driver of an apache helicopter. I need a gt score of 120 for journalism, and a score of 110 for the apache. I have a gt score of 100. The training for journalism is 12 weeks long and the training for the apache pilot is 2 years.

            At Fort Irwin, it looks like I’ll be driving the M-113. I know some about it, but if you want to know what I’ll be doing you can probably go on-line.

 

It’s always nice to hear from you.

, Jason

 

7 Feb 2004

 

Captain,

            I was disappointed that you and Gloria weren’t at my graduation. I guess because it would remind me of who I used to be. I’ve changed since I’ve been in the Army, and I am not quite sure that I like the change.

            Before graduation the entire unit marched to the meeting hall. I saw parents and love once pointing out their soldier in formation. I was looking around to find you and Gloria. I didn’t see you, but I did see my parents.

            During graduation the soldiers all set in the respected platoons. Awards were handed out. I received none.

            After graduation I hung out with my parents. They were proud, but for some reason I didn’t want to stick around. I got the impression that no one that I met cared about me.

            I was in my parent’s car, when I decided to go back. Afterall, when you are thrown into a situation and you suffer with others you tend to meet people you will never forget. I just wanted to say goodbye. I figured I will never see them again.

            I went back no said much to me but I did introduce some of my roommates to my parents. My roommates were all in the national guard so they were able to go home after graduation. I had to get on a plane to California.

            My mom met my battle buddy’s mom. My mom wanted to exchange contact information but my battle buddy Von had something to say about it. He demanded that they didn’t so I figure I will never see him again. He lives in Tennessee.

            My parents brought my CD’s and some books. I missed music especially jazz.

            Finally my parents did drive me to the airport. There were hugs and kisses all around and then I left feeling alone.

            You and I use to discuss this that we would just fade away from each others lives. I guess that is what is happening.

            After the plane ride to California, myself and about four other soldiers from Fort Knox rode on a bus to Fort Irwin. On the way in there were crosses along side of the road. They were soldiers that died their from drinking and driving or so we were told.

            Fort Irwin is nothing but a desert. Instead of grass there are gravel beds. I already miss the buildings in Richmond. Luckily there is a bar about a block away from the new barracks. My self and another new soldier went for a couple drinks.

            The place was mostly dead except for us and a table of good looking girls. The soldier I was with debated rather he should take off his wedding ring. I told him that he shouldn’t so he didn’t.

            We later met a soldier who was in our unit. He told us that our job was to be , in his words, “glorified taxi drivers.” We were told by a drill sergeant back in basic training that we would be in OPFR which was a training unit. We would train units going to Iraq and it would be like playing lazer tag. We all thought it sounded cool but this was not the case. I don’t mind so much because I enjoy driving.

            As far as Fort Irwin goes, it is dead. Nothing on top of nothing. I can’t help but feel like I have experience a buzz kill or even a let down. I was trained to go to war and there is none here to fight just the boredom. I have about two years of this nothing.

 

Would love to hear from you.

 

, Jason