airbornenuttsac
Verified Military
- Joined
- Oct 22, 2013
- Messages
- 21
Gentleman and other distinguished guests of this site, allow me to introduce myself not by name but by my service to our nation. I started my service young enlisting at 17, and by March of 2000 I was quickly sent off to basic training to a hellhole called Sand Hill. I was well trained under the guidance of seasoned NCOs that made my time at Dco 2/58, one of character building and true understanding of my choice to be an Infantryman. I graduated knowing although we were at peace my blade as an Infantryman should always be ready to defend my country. I understood that this was not a game and my life will depend on the brothers I had found in the heat of the Georgia sun. I went on to graduate Airborne School, Air Assault, and earn my EIB at the ripe age of 18 while serving in the 101st Airborne. I loved every day in field where I could play out scenarios we never thought would happen, like children enjoying a friendly game among our peers. I remember coming into base after a good morning of PT, my uniform pressed and boots with a shine only 1SG would love. My thoughts were of the tasks at hand and how best to get them done, went threw my mind till I came to the gate. I realized something had happen and the rap music I was listing to no longer mattered. As I raced threw the dials to find a news channel, my heart stopped. I let go of the dial as I felt my feelings of peace and security fall away like wheat in September. We were at war and I had a job to do and I was willing to follow my brothers into the valley of the shadow of death. The call came in March of 2003 and the men of 3/327 Dco 101st Airborne had a “rendezvous with destiny” north of Baghdad and I was with them. I have had more time in hell then I can say in words, but as a warrior it is best to say my brothers are the heroes and the lucky ones stayed home. I have spent many years struggling with the idea that I have felt more at home in the chaos of war then in a bed next to beautiful women. I believe this is the reason I find myself here, wondering does the mind ever forget what the hands can do, or are we just echoes in history, of wars that are ours to hold dear.
