Growing up I loved my GI Joes, what prepubescent boy didn’t. They painted a picturesque view of the great american hero with his steel resolve, broad shoulders capable of carrying an entire country, muscles upon muscles; they never quit no matter how deep I buried them in the sandbox. Joe was the man. That combined with the stereotype war movies implanted created my expectation of the American War Machine, our countries most expensive weapon, the US soldier. Don’t get me wrong, I never once over my first 28 years thought I would join any form of armed service. But here I am PFC Moore, a combat medic in the worlds largest army, using up those tax dollars for the better good. Or so they tell you.
I arrived at basic combat training almost 11 months ago scared, lost, and fat. Basic was hard but not the sort of hard I expected. I was taken away from my comfort zone yes, alone with only my thoughts to keep me company. I learned a lot about myself, became much closer with the idea of death, and shed a few pounds. But the new Army, as my drill sergeants refer to it, has softened. Its about quantity, not quality; they have a quota to hit and by golly the Army will hit its quota even if they have to push us across the finish line. I was told once I got to Advanced Individual Training (AIT), all that would change, it would be physically and mentally draining and test my limits. Almost the same speech I got from my recruiter about basic.
Graduated basic, very proud that I accomplished that task and at the same time a little disappointed, GI Joe would have expected more from our countries fighting elite. Once again said goodbye to my family who had driven in for graduation and headed to AIT with my fingers crossed that I would find the discipline and physicality Joe would be proud of.
I arrived at AIT and quickly discovered finger crossing does nothing for luck. Soldiers were scattered everywhere, smoking, talking even fraternizing with the fairer sex there was no order or uniform; nothing I saw would have been acceptable 2 days earlier at basic. Oh how quickly soldiers forget. The sergeant stepped out of his office, the chaos littered around him, lit his cigarette and passed it to a private; thank God Joe wasn’t around to see this.
Those who knew me before are probably finding it hard to believe that me of all people could ever be disappointed in a lack of discipline. But I didn’t leave my family, give up so much of my freedom to return the same man that left. The first time I put on the Army ACU I felt proud, not everyone gets to wear that patch above their heart. You get out of the Army what you put into it and while many slept, ate cake, or complained I worked and pushed. I won’t let GI Joe down.
Physically AIT was harder, with nights off I was able to hit the gym and with the Texas humidity alone your bound to sweat off a pound here or there. Morning PT was about the same but we were allowed to work in groups to push ourselves instead of formations. So I guess the better statement would be for those of us who wanted AIT to be physically harder it was. Because again it was a numbers game and if the soldiers could maintain the bare minimum he was pushed out the door. Most AIT diplomas should read “Onward and upward shammer, go protect our country, you are your units problem now”. I was told once I got to my unit, all that would change, it would be physically and mentally draining and test my limits. Yes I had heard the same speech before.
I took a few weeks of leave, went home held my family and tried to remember what it was like to be a civilian. It was nice to be free for a while, but I did miss my new life. I grew nervous as my leave ran down. What if this time all I had heard right, what if my unit was different and all I had imagined the Army would be was true. And what if life never disappointed?
