Yesterday was the first day I went
to sleep not in a good mood.
Very tired, feet hurt a lot.
Back hurs a lot. Don't want to
go on sick call. I hope this
day will be easy day so I can
heal. Road march Tuesday. Hope
I'll be ready. Got 7 hours sleep.
More tired than I've ever been.
Morale not good but I'll keep
going. Let this Total Control
end please. Need to get ready
for inspection. So much to do.
Day not bad. Must be
ready for inspection. Incredible
how they want order. PT
test (unofficial) 37 push ups,
64 sit ups. Push ups all low
ones. Feet still hurt like
Hell. Ben Gay for back.
Some people fucked up--no phone
calls today. Got dropped today.
All got dropped today. Meals
pretty sparse today.
Expect 6 hours sleep tonight.
Got moved to back row with
the other "old guys." Is this
coincidence? Can keep lower
profile here. Will start letter
tonight. Expect tomorrow to
be pretty rough. Hope my feet
feel better. Lots of time to think
of [fiance]. Will put her pictures up
after inspection.
Feeling like we were starting all over really affected my morale. But I already had the accumulated loss of sleep and pains of being in basic training rather than being fresh and blister free.
It may seem like I'm whining a lot about aches and pains. But it is tough to convey the constant aches of injuries that never got a chance to heal. Back on the block (as being in the civilian world was called), if you strained something you could rest. Here in the Army you had to work through the pain to complete the mission. Our mission may have just been to be trained as soldiers, but that lesson applies regardless of where you are and what you must do. Grant me that I was continuing the mission even if it seems like I complain too much. If complaining is a God-given right of soldiers, I was already a soldier!
I don't remember what I was dropped for. But we were all being dropped so why must not have really mattered to me.
Moving to the back was great. Being farther from the entry, we had precious seconds to look completely innocent should officers or (far more likely) drill sergeants entered. And we wouldn't be the first to be spotted if the reason for that entry was to find a body for some task or chore.
Putting up my fiance's picture was a bit of defiance, in a way. It was a personal touch of home. I can't say if being in basic training with a serious girl friend back home is better or worse. On the bad side, being apart and mostly out of contact did hurt, of course. Yet while I would never say that I didnt' want to let her down (she was quite the anti-war type, I'll say), I did know that the road back to being with her again as quickly as possible went through graduation from basic training.
Pride is what mostly kept me going despite the pain. How could I fail to make it through basic training? Especially when I fancied myself a future defense and military analyst? So as a man and for my career I could not fail. Yet failing because of physical injury loomed large even if psychologically I believed I could make it.
That's an Army lesson, too, I suppose. Anybody can buy the farm at any time.
As a career move, serving a term in the Army National Guard was important. It really did add to my credibility and this was most noticable over the years when I'd hear some person analyzing military matters preface their remarks--in a sort of apology--by saying they never served in uniform.
So I have that going for me.
