Why are you in my army?

I was sitting on the tiled floor with sixty other young men and women. We were all probably thinking similar thoughts. ‘What the hell have I done?’ It’s the first day of basic training and we were getting our official rude awakening into Army life. Drill Sgt. Whigham was standing before us all shooting information at us in a very harsh rat-a-tat fashion when he asks; “Why are you here in my army? If any of you stand up and say it’s for the college money you might as well ring out now, you don’t join my army for college money.” Well, there’s the million dollar question. Why was I in this man’s army?

My father’s opinion about the military is simple; every able-bodied, red-blooded American ought to do his time in the service. I don’t know if I agree with that now, but when I was a young boy I sure did. On the rare occasion my father talked about his time in the army and his tour in Viet Nam, I would sit there in rapture taking it all in. Then I’d go off on a tangent about how when I joined I was going to be just like him. “Son, Son.” he’d say, “Slow down. You know you gotta lotta work to do to get to that point. The army doesn’t like boys who talk back and lie. The army wants you to keep your nose clean and your mouth shut. I don’t really think you can do it.” At that point I was pretty mad and in my mind swore to him and at him. “I’ll show you!”

My grandfather, Pepere, he was a real hard man to love. My mother, siblings and I lived in the apartment above his. He was the father figure to me Monday through Friday and he was the man who taught me to be a man. Of course I fought him every step of the way. He was stern, ruthless and borderline mean when it came to the education and discipline of us children. I don’t really know if it was how the old French-Canadians did things or maybe an effect of being a former drunk but I didn’t like it and made his job as hard as I could. One of the few times he’d laugh was when I mentioned my intent of joining the Army. It wasn’t a joyous laugh; it was a scoffing laugh and would usually be followed up with a statement such as, “You, in the Army? You won’t last a week in the Army. You can’t stand still, you can’t keep your mouth shut…” And again I’d internally curse and vow to show him that he’s wrong.

Then there was me. I wanted to prove my father and grandfather wrong and I also wanted to prove myself right. I knew what my elders were saying was accurate. I was an out of control, mouthy kid who liked to buck authority at every turn. However I also knew that I had the focus and determination to succeed when the goals were important to me. I was scared of the possibility that I may fail and Dad and Pepere would be saying "I knew it!" And that just wasn't an option I could let happen. I guess there was also a small part of me that actually wanted the adventure and to escape Maine for a bit, but that wasn't enough to be considered a driving force.

Drill Sgt! Pvt. McPherson, the two most important men in my life told me I’d never make it in the Army, I’m just here to prove them wrong Drill Sgt.” After a few seconds that seemed like hours of DS Whigham giving me an appraising half-scowl, he nodded and said he’d help me prove them wrong. That’s it, the reason I was in Whigham’s Army. I never had any thoughts of reenlisting, no desire to move up the ranks. I liked and hated my time in the army equally, but it was all worth it when I could look Dad and Pepere in the eyes and say, “I did it!” When that day came, they both said what I knew they would. “I’m proud of you; I always knew you could do it.”