Church briefing.
Repack duffel bag.
Write postcards.
Called mom. Dad at Mass.
Mom sounded fine--glad for that.
Feel badly about [fiance]. wish I
could do something. I'll keep writing
and calling as much as possible.
Sunday mornings would be an opportunity for going to church services. If you didn't go, you got time to yourself in the barracks. I knew I'd be choosing the latter. I appreciate God's help but if He wasn't going to help with push ups, I figured I'd rather have time on my own.
I was trying to keep my duffel bag ready to roll with everything where I knew it was so I could find whatever I needed quickly.
Figuring I wouldn't have time to write, I pre-wrote some postcards so people would know I was fine.
I felt bad for my mom since she had already sent off two sons to the military during the Vietnam war and she probably assumed that at 26 I wasn't going anywhere. In fall 1990, I simply lied that I was going nowhere when my mom asked me if Iraq's invasion of Kuwait would affect me. In fact, I figured we'd be going and for a while my unit was on the list to go--until we were dropped from that list and we didn't. Funny enough, my brother who went to Vietnam (Air Force) knew I was lying at the time.
Like everything about my military service, I only had a faint shadow of the experience that those who have to go to war experience. I claim nothing more from my service than that I have a faint idea of what those who did far more than I did experienced.
And I missed being away from my fiance. That doesn't bother me so much any more, of course (she's my ex-wife, now). But I always remembered that and I always remain so grateful for our soldiers who leave their families to go off to war. Just being apart hurts, Throw in being apart for far longer than I faced and having people trying to kill you to prevent you from returning to them and it must be truly terrible.
This was my last day before basic training really began.
