Sorry for the delay in my writing things here have been hectic. Hope you enjoy this post
I can remember my first night in BCT, I had never felt so confused in my life. I was not sure if I had made the right choice, I mean who wants to give up everything they’ve ever known and in return get yelled at? I think that the first night almost broke me. I had tons of emotions going through me and I was trying to process the events that had unfolded.
The first letter I wrote to my family was probably the most difficult. How would I be able to convey my emotions and add rhetoric to my writing to turn a hectic situation into a positive one? I stared at the blank sheet of paper for what seemed to be an eternity until I was able to grab my pen and write. Writing letters to people felt good, it felt as if I was almost human while I wrote. Before joining the military I had seldom used snail-mail and there I was in a place where that was my only form of communication. For those brief moments that I received mail, I felt a sense of calm come over me. Receiving mail felt like Christmas morning to me.
Which brings me to a topic that to this day I am bitter about. During a trip I took to France I met a wonderful girl. This friend was able to write to me weekly while I was in BCT. Now how is it that a person half way around the world was able to take time out of her day to write to me and friends back home could not? I believe that I will be bitter about this topic for a very long time. There I was, busting my ass for them…and they couldn’t write me a damn letter? These were people that I thought highly of, and for them to repay me like this was not right. On one hand I was happy that I had made a genuine connection in France, and on the other I was in disbelief that people back home did not write.
I did not appreciate having a hard day and getting nothing in return. But, maybe this sacrifice is part of joining the military? I understand that I gave up many things when I joined, but the fact does not changed that the pain in still there. Hopefully one day we can all receive explanations for things that were out of our control.
‘We are not enemies, but friends. We must not be enemies. Though passion may have strained, it must not break our bonds of affection. The mystic chords of memory will swell when again touched, as surely they will be, by the better angels of our nature.’
I’d be open to comments on this post. Enjoy