Posted on 11/15/2003 4:01:08 PM PST by Swanks
Forgive the Post - Member since 1998 so I get one 'rant' every 5 years
This week was Basic graduation; Army reserve @ Fort Benning, GA. Looking forward to the day;I had not seen my son in 20 weeks. Barely got to speak to him when he could get away from 17 hour days to make a 2 minute call. They had no sleep but two hours prior to graduation. They would get none after, as the barracks would be disbanded, and no one does maintenance work save the soldiers. They had to dismantle and store their beds and bunks the night before they would have used them last. No place to sleep that night, after the prior night of sleeplessness, and flights the next day to points beyond. Even those flights, they leave for, at 7:00 AM. His flight to Dallas is not until 8:00 PM. This is a good thing; he can sleep at Hartsfield.
They were so good and polished, professional and confident at the exercise. Total precision, total confidence. The families were so pumped, so proud. Some came from CA, MO, all over, for a 30 minute exercise. But to spend two 1/2 days with their boys. So many pictures, so many smiles. Greeting friends of but 20 weeks, like they had known each other for 20 years. Drill sergeants are now friends - polite to family and soldier. Yesterday they were forcing all nighers, or throwing garbage cans down the barracks aisle as wake up call. It's the kids, though, that track down their drill instructors for intro's to their parents, and one final picture.
My son is so tired. Going off base was like entering a new world. We take him to a book store for some reading material for his next adventure / flight to Texas. He falls asleep in a reading chair. It was a normal chair to me, the softest most comfortable chair he had been in since basic, he notes. We stopped at Best Buy for a CD he wants. He wants to listen for a few minutes in the car, at the Hotel. No music since 20 weeks ago We know he falls asleep listening to Tool without even checking.
Having lunch is more sad than happy, knowing time was growing short. Who wants to eat; we have 60 minutes, now 40, left.Things to pack, last minute details, a last ditch effort to get his status changed to 'Mike-6' with a Staff Sergeant who's name I do not know but who now is my hero. He makes 6 -7 calls to pull it off; getting 70 weeks Medical training not 20 weeks. My son pleads his case, while fighting to stay awake. One last shot; tommorrow we go.
We say those horrible, awkward good-byes in the parking lot. Ninety-five percent of people are gone. It's now a lonely, desolate place. Even more so as that cloud hangs over the Battalion barracks. To be mothballed, and serve no more.
We have a 500 mile drive. He had one last shot at Mile-6. Both cut into our time and focus. Hugs and tears, last good-byes. We wanted to drive him to his building but he only knew the way through the path in the woods, he will walk it. As we exited the lot, this sight is etched in my brain and I will take it to my grave: All alone now, the crowds were gone. One lone soldier in green uniform walks, head held high but no doubt sad, tied, unsure what next in his life, walks alone up a gravel path to try and better control his future. He does not know we are watching or see him.
Try as I might I cannot put down in words what I see and feel in those brief five seconds, that one last look. I hope it is not poignant a scene that God must have arranged, for memories to go back, to should he leave this earth. I see a 21 year old who was kicking soccer balls with me at age 3; that was but three weeks ago it seems. His path he walks is all uphill; I hope this life as a soldier is not. I am panic struck this is my last view of him; ever on this earth; 75 yards off in the distance, walking alone on a desolate Army base. He should not have to walk it alone with parents of 500 miles away, but 75 yard close by. I have seen him, in 21 years, in all kinds of cloths; most falling off his butt, most chosen to show off his 6 ft. 2", 250 Lbs frame. He lost 40 of that, the last 20 weeks. Now he is in strange Army uniform; both out-of-place, but worn with pride.I know he is proud of his accomplishments too; bad sad, and unsure right now, of strange new roles, chapters that have ended, new ones not begun. New military basis, new deployments to parts unknown.
Should I take a picture? No, that would be tacky as he does not know we watch him march away, not walk away now, to his meeting. If something happens to him I do make a vow to myself I will go back to that spot. And I will take that picture of the lonely gravel path. It will be on some same November 17, at 1:07 PM. I hope I pray I don't have to; but catch myself thinking if I have too, I hope it to is sunny and 60 degrees like right now.
We have to keep moving, what little traffic there is behind my is flowing. I should have pulled over and extended that moment. Maybe I should have done a lot of things different for the last 21 years, while I'm on it too. But it was 5 seconds, and enough. It is seared into my brain forever. (There, I tried to capture it my thoughts, but failed miserably)
We are married 26 years. We know each other enough when to talk, and when to be silent. Her role is to cry; mine to hold back the tears and be prepared to find the positive, when she is ready to talk. We drive for 30 miles without a word, it seemed like five. Sad good-byes we weathered before. A daughter to college. This same son to college. Each time home for Christmas, breaks, Thanksgiving. I think about adding up all the sad good-byes. What use will that do. Instead, Squire Parson's 'Beulah Land' plays over in my head and makes me feel better. "No sad good-bye's, will there, be spoken. For time won't matter, anymore."
Thank you for writing and posting this.
He was happy to have had his grand-parents there too, who came down from New Jersey. (With a stop-over 1st at Myrtle Beach for some golf). 2500 miles round trip for 3 hours time and a ceremony.
They would'nt have missed it for the world.
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