Why I Joined the Army

Many of you have asked how I came to join the Army.

Good question.

Where to begin? I suppose part of it goes back to the fact that I've long wanted to serve in the military. My father is retired Army, and I've known many folks in the service. Just always seemed the right thing to do. My preference was always the Air Force. My dream was to be an in flight refueler - the guys who go up in a tanker plane and refuel other aircraft midair. Seemed to be a wonderful job.

The one problem was my weight. I have long been heavy. To give an example, I've included some pictures of me from the civilian world.

So, anyway... life is interesting. It eventually just seemed that the military became more and more of a youthful dream. I had a career. I'd gotten married (to my first wife). Life was continuing along the way... and the military was falling by the wayside.

More and more... it faded. My career was becoming more and more successful. I was getting older. Things were just ducky.

And then.

9/11.

Those first few days were nothing but work for me. I was working almost literally around the clock as we tried to handle the repercussions of the attack. For our business, it was an absolute disaster, plus we had to try to handle all of our customers stranded around the country.

Finally, I took some down time. I went to Ellicia's... and just let it out. I was emotionally devastated. I'd never imagined us being attacked so directly.

As the months began to pass, I watched as we geared up for war and eventually took the fight back to the Taliban in Afghanistan. Meanwhile, life in the states quickly returned to normal. There was no war here.

We continued living comfortably, and as often happens, those who are comfortable must complain about minor things.

It grated on me. I listened, day in and day out, to customers complaining about minute details. Truly trivial things were blown into life and death absurdities. Meanwhile, I'd be reading on the internet about our Soldiers fighting the war.

I came to realized that I was in the wrong place.

I needed to be contributing to the fight. My country had been attacked. I was sitting at a desk listening to whiners complain (to be fair, there were genuine complaints, and I helped many people through genuine issues). I went to find a recruiter.

Navy offered me $30,000 signing bonus. But, it was to serve on submarines, and be under water six months per year. Nope.

The Marines were willing to take me "as is". I, being no dummy, knew I didn't want to be some drill instructor's dream come true.

The Air Force wanted me to process several waivers and it'd take two years to join. Too long.

The Army... wanted less of me, but was willing. The recruiter helped me work out, shed over a hundred pounds.

And so, on 22 October 2002, I found myself with a bunch of young kids, raising my hand and saying my first Oath of Enlistment.

I still had work to finish, and went off to India for a few (miserable) months, but finally shipped off to Basic in February, 2003.

So, here I am. 67% pay cut later... living in a barracks in Afghanistan. Contributing to the effort to defeat the people who have tried to hurt us for so long (yes, long... this war didn't start on 9/11.)

Life here isn't easy... the money isn't great. But, I'll say this. I miss my career. I enjoyed what I did, managing teams of people... but, I feel right at the end of the day. I'm doing what I think is the right thing. I don't feel guilty sitting at a desk, living the good life... knowing Soldiers were sacrificing. I never in the world imagined myself turning wrenches or loading rockets and bullets into helicopters while living in Afghanistan... but I wouldn't trade this at all.

I want my children to know that Daddy did something when it came time to be called. I want to show them what JFK meant when he said, "Ask not what your country can do for you; ask what YOU can do for your country."