Make it So

And yet again, it has been quite some time since I have posted on this thing; but I want to keep it ongoing, even though we are only still in garrison. I've been doing pretty well since my last post. I get to go home to Ohio often, as well as spend time with my girlfriend, which is a blessing. We spend as many weekends together as time and space allow us to, and we even got a chance to travel to Myrtle Beach. More often than not we speak of life after the Army, which makes it difficult to be IN the army. The mission continues; so must I.

One thing that has always bothered me is that I am getting older, and I have no claim. I have nothing to my name, except a blue 2002 Pontiac Trans Am that I love dearly. There's no house, no lawn, no family, no dog and no career. In terms of career moves, my six years in the Armed Forces was a bad choice. When I get out I will start anew, building from the ground up, lagging far far behind my peers from college, who've already settled into their careers and are protecting their nest egg. Living the dream. I want that dream so bad it hurts to think about it, as sometimes I feel like I am in prison. I live in a barracks with a bunch of young kids, many of which lack the discipline to be in the army at all. Because I am not married, I get no BAH (basic allowance for housing, extra $ to live) so that I can live off post in a house or apartment. Living off post is a bad idea without BAH (I did it in 2007). All it does it eat up savings and create a lot of unnecessary stress. I try to call the barracks a dorm to make myself feel better, but it never works because I'm too old to be living in a dorm as well! I try so hard to get this out of my head, but no matter what I feel like I deserve better than this. I've worked hard, and I've been through a lot, and all I have is a dorm room. So what I do, is I wake up every morning, grit my teeth, and say to myself, "you are saving a lot of money for your dream, and for your future family. Suck it up Jeremy." And that's what I do, because I made this choice, and I brought it all upon myself. Some day, I hope that it will all pay off somehow. After all, the Army is not my career choice. It's just a chapter in life I chose to read, so that there will be no doubt that I've earned my right to be a citizen of the United States of America, and helped in our ongoing mission against tyranny, terrorism, and inequality.

I've also been put into a new job; it is considered a promotion because of the responsibility entailed. No longer do I work on the systems of our beloved Apache, but I inspect and sign off on those who still do. Known as technical inspectors (T.I.), we are the last step in the maintenance scheme, deciding whether an aircraft is flyable or grounded, and if the work performed on the aircraft is to standard, allowing the Apache to return to "fully mission capable." It is an important job because we have the final say, but now I have no soldiers to take care of, and I've been moved to a different office obviously. Sure, I still see all of the guys I shared my life with in war all the time, but I don't lead them. There is no one for me to lead except myself. We must focus on the aircraft and nothing else, which is understandable. I do like my new job, but I miss my old one too.

With that said, I still hate garrison life. After being to war and back, I do not like being in a fighting unit that isn't fighting. Basically, our job means jack shit over here in the states, except for training up the new soldiers for the next rotation. Before, we had to work ourselves to the bone to get an aircraft up because it HAD to be on the next mission. Lack of a mission dictates that people become extremely complacent and find it hard to care about their job at all. To make matters worse, we recently found out that the less than ideal aircraft we fell in on back here at Ft. Campbell will not even be accompanying us back to war! The diligent effort put into making these crates airworthy has turned them into nothing more than training pieces. That's just a hit in the groin.

The training season has officially started, and you can hear the veterans' moans when they have to leave their families here at Ft. Campbell to travel to some place like Louisiana for war time training. I'll be heading to Fort Knox and a base in Las Vegas for similar training later this year. My next focus is a Non Commissioned Officer school that I'm attending. One phase of the class is here at Ft. Campbell; no big deal. Upon completion, I'm traveling back to my old stomping grounds at Ft. Eustis, VA for another phase of the course that lasts one month.

We do so much training away from Campbell that we might as well go back to Afghanistan right now; we are going back anyways. At least over there everything we do means something. We can save lives, and take ones that need to be taken. We can make a difference instead of sitting on our thumbs. And, on top of that, we get good pay. More money means a better chance of my dream coming true later on. While I am not trying to get blown up, there are low points where I miss the action and the excitement of certain events. I want to get it over with, because this next rotation is my last HOORAH, and then I part ways with the Army forever. Something so sweet, just out of reach. I'll never forget my roots though, and why I joined in the first place. There is an ongoing mission; one that I can only participate in for so long. After that, someone will fill my boots and carry on. Hopefully, that person is a patriot. Until then, we give all that we have. We sacrifice and commit. Like I said before, I'm not anxious to die....only anxious to matter. Thank you for letting me vent; I rise anew.

Cheers,

-J

Here is a photo of Jill and I at Myrtle Beach. We had a great time!