Today is the 29th anniversary of the day I joined the Army. Shipped out the next day (on my mother's birthday) and spent the next 14 weeks at Fort Knox, Kentucky learning to be a soldier and a man.
I'm on the left. That's my brother, James with me.
My official Army photo from basic training.
The only picture I've got of myself in BDUs. And my first car: I'd previously only owned a motorcycle.
On a special recon mission with Bill Gabbert from my platoon in Germany. My platoon received orders one morning to dress warmly in civilian clothes, then was divided into two-man teams and given maps and coordinates with a course covering several waypoints and many miles. When we reached the last waypoint, we found that it was a Gasthaus with our Platoon Leader and NCOs waiting inside with free hot food and cold beer for all. Those were the days.
Off-duty.
Me in Germany, with a glass in my hand and a cross around my neck. Iconic.
I have many regrets, one of the chief among them being that I was forced out due to medical issues and couldn't finish my full career. But, although it was hard and at many times unpleasant and downright miserable, I don't regret joining the Army. Rather, I shall always see it as one of the best things I've ever done.
No comments:
Post a Comment