One day, I found myself working for Chipotle and out of school. I didn’t have the capital, I couldn’t get grants, my parents didn’t have the money and getting loans was my only alternative until I saw a commercial that changed my life.
Life will always close doors and open new ones. Through those doors you will have paths and those paths will always have “Y’s.” “Y’s” are the paths that open up from a decision that needs to be made to go left or right. The stroke of the letter “Y” represents the path you are on, the arms represent new paths. Opportunities within opportunities if you may.
One afternoon, still wearing my uniform stinking from work, I was laying down on a bed that wasn’t technically mine, but my parents. I was watching T.V., and a commercial captured my attention. Patriotic music, American flags, freedom eagles and American soldiers persuaded this lost soul.
The enthralling commercial with its music compelled my body to sit up and pay attention.
The commercial offered everything I lacked and more. The ad was so effective in evoking the proud patriot and warrior dormant inside me that by the end of it I was so thrilled and pumped to join the army, ARMY STRONG.
With my broken English, I stood up, put on my shoes, grabbed my car keys and I, hastily, left the house and vroomed to the recruiting office.
A new “Y” just opened.
Since I moved to the United States, its people have been nothing but welcoming. Everything about the USA is a dream, an American dream.
From its infrastructure to its rich culture.
Many people will say that The United States has no culture. However, I utterly disagree. The United States culture is and has always been about welcoming all cultures, all people from so many different countries enriching one. Making it better, stronger, and more powerful.
Its cultural, religious, and racial heterogeneous essence makes the United States a homogeneous mixture of infinite beauty and power.
Since I moved, years ago, I felt as if I was home and besides the ARMY succoring me, I felt the need to give something back. And what was a better way than serving the country I loved.
I parked in front of the recruiting office, and I didn’t hesitate to jump out of the car and express my intent with my broken English.
A few months later, between the proud hugs of my father and the inconsolable tears of my mother, I left home to attend Basic Training.
I heard so much about the first week of basic training. But I believe that everything is relative.
After a week of “reception” in which you do paperwork, get your army issued gear, shave your head, and buy anything you may need for personal hygiene and sending letters back home, you are put on a bus and head where you do the actual training. When you arrive, one of the drill instructors gets on the bus and with a firm and loud voice and in less than two minutes tells you what is going to happen in the next couple of hours, starting with “The shark attack.”
“Now, hurry the fuck up and get off the damn bus. Get your shit and run towards the drill hall.”
I looked around and many soldiers looked terrified. Males and females alike. It was as if they weren’t expecting any of that. But it is the army... what were they expecting?
I grabbed my duffle bag and my newly issued rucksack full of army gear as fast as possible from the loading compartments on the side of the bus, and I started running as fast as I could.
“Hurry up you maggots.” One drill sergeant started yelling.
“Motherfuckers, my grandma moves faster and she is missing a leg.” Another drill sergeant followed.
“Look at them, we got some ugly fat motherfuckers in this rotation. We can fix the fat, not the ugly.” A third drill sergeant laughed.
I looked around and I saw a female falling face forward on the ground and I saw two drill sergeants running towards her. “Get the fuck up soldier. What the fuck are you doing? Did I say it was nap time?”
The army has been practicing equality for a long time.
As I witnessed the encounter, I slowed down myself.
“Hey, four eyes. What the hell are you looking at, keep moving. Psycho.” A female drill sergeant that reminded me of Agatha Trunchbull, said.
After a rather chaotic welcome, we all arrived at the hall, dropped our bags and assumed the position of attention.
Drill sergeants walked around with scornful eyes, looking at every soldier and fixing the arms of soldiers in the right position.
“Is there anyone that after witnessing this would like to go home?
About a third of the future soldiers raised their hands while I stood at attention, and I couldn’t believe it.
“Thank you for your honesty. Now I know which asses I am gonna ride for the next two and a half years.” Drill sergeants laughed in unison. “There is no going back home. Your ass belongs to the United States Army. But most importantly, your ass belongs to me, and I will make your life miserable.”
In my head, I replied, “Bring it on.”
One of the most basic goals in basic training is to build a team. And for that we all got rewarded or we all got punished when an idiotic kid did something stupid. I never minded when someone did something stupid. The punishment will always include some sort of exercising to muscle failure, and yelling their lungs cussing at us, which the army refers to “smoking” the soldier. I never saw the punishments as a punishment but as a challenge. And the challenge was to not be completely fucked when the sergeants were done making you do infinite pushups or holding your rifle in front of you to burn your front deltoids or doing V-Ups while holding your rifle above your head. I was always willing to embrace the suck because pain is temporary. The screaming felt like home when I was a kid.
The day that we had some hardcore combat training, which included basically dragging your body and face on the mud, was my birthday.
It was my turn to get down, put my face against the mud and slither my body forward, so I started. About halfway through, one of the drill sergeants said, “Happy birthday soldier, you are a goddamn killer.”
I could not feel prouder. And I kept moving forward, embracing the suck.
Right before graduation, on a strange peaceful day, all soldiers were cleaning the barracks and packing everything. Some were getting ready to go home on a small vacation, others to go directly to AIT (Advanced Individual Training). I finished with my cleaning duty and on a corner of the building I started doing some sit ups. After resting between the third and fourth set, I passed out. A few moments later, I felt someone kicking my feet. I opened my eyes quickly and I saw what no one wants to see while you sleep in the middle of the day during basic training, a drill sergeant.
Basic Training had been exhausting. Between waking up at 0400 doing a lot of physical work carrying all your gear and holding your weapon. Rack marches that gave me the worst shin splints and going to bed at 2200. Sometimes waking up in the middle of the night for the fireguard. I had just been powering through it. But at that precise time, the cold, hard floor felt like an extremely comfortable orthopedic bed, and I paid for it.
“Meet me downstairs at 2100. Bring a battle buddy.” He said.
I knew I was going to be punished for sleeping during duty hours, but I felt worse for the soldier I was about to drag with me.
My battle buddy and I went downstairs at 2050. Because in the army, being anywhere at the time told is being late and being ten minutes early is being on time.
We approached the office, got in and assumed the “parade rest” position. “Good evening, drill Sergeant.” The drill sergeant was looking like a zombie. Exhausted.
With a firm but calm voice he said, “Tonight, you will clean the floors spotless. With these brushes (they looked like toothbrushes) you will clean every groove between every single tile, with these rags you will clean every tile and with that machine,” He pointed at the small, old and rusty floor scrubber they had, “you will finish it. I don’t care if you take all night.”
“Yes, drill sergeant,” we replied firmly.
It was about 0300 when we finished and were released to get one hour of sleep. Woke up, took a shower and we got ready for the last two days of Basic Training.
There were many things that sucked during basic training. Things such as the gas chamber, a place where your skin itches and burns, your lungs can not process the Orto-chlorobenzylidene-malononitrile-gas, and your eyes start to itch, burn and tear, your nostrils secrete so much mucus you start to ingest some, your mind start to get desperate for oxygen and only you can think about is exit that room, but you are held inside by the drill serpents until you compose yourself, and don’t let fear override you. That sucks but not as much as cleaning the damn floors all night and getting only one hour of sleep. I still embraced it.
After basic, the army AIT, the army became all about taking me away on the most important days for my family. Birthdays, graduations, sickness and worse of all, death.
In June 2019, I volunteered to deploy to Kuwait on a nine-month tour. A decision I don’t regret, and never will because very good things came out of that deployment as well. However, that was a deployment I will never forget for one simple life event that put a hole in my heart and added some weight to my soul. On December 23, 2019, I got the worst message I have ever received from my cousin. The text read, “Hermano, Papa David had a head seizure and he didn’t make it.”
My heart sank, my blood temperature dropped below zero and the impotence of being unable to do anything was killing me inside. My grandfather, the man who acted as a father and raised me, has passed away. A man so smart, and so talented who left me with so many conversations that we never got to start. And I was across the Atlantic unable to be present at his funeral. It still hurts. It always will. The pain will never go away, but I learned and adapted on how to keep moving forward embracing the suck.
Two months later after that, I left Kuwait for a month to do a mission in Iraq. Until that point, I had never flown on military aircraft, and I was zealous for a new experience.
I walked towards the CH-470 Chinook cargo door and grabbed my seat facing the other wall. There is a gunner ready in case we get attacked, and the rear cargo door is left open. During the takeoff, everything felt normal, but once we were in the air and I could see the horizon through the rear opening tilting sideways. My brain started to whirl and then my stomach started to churn. I was getting air sick because of the positioning of my seat and looking at the ever moving horizon. There were no “puke bags.” On board, so I had no other option than to release everything on my newly bought backpack. It sucked.
During my time in Iraq, I flew to different bases that we were closing down, and my body got used to flying on different aircrafts such as the Chinook and different types of helicopters.
I slept on cots, cold tents, and if I had to go to the bathroom in the middle of the night, I had to gear up to walk two minutes to the bathroom because it just wasn’t safe. I ate MREs (Meal Ready to Eat) almost every day and sometimes I couldn’t even take showers because the mobile showers were broken.
When a soldier is deployed to a combat zone, the soldier is awarded with a combat patch.
Since I went to Iraq for a month, I had earned the right to wear a combat patch on my uniform but for respect to those serving nine months to a year in a combat zone I refuse to wear it. I can not compare the living conditions of being in Kuwait, to the living conditions in Iraq. Soldiers in Iraq go for almost a year sleeping in cots, sometimes with a broken generator which causes the tents to get very cold and having to pull all your gear to walk two minutes to the bathroom. Among other things that sucked, and they must embrace to keep sane. I only had to embrace that suck for a month.
Joining the ARMY has been a decision I will never regret. It is one of the career paths I have chosen that have made me. It has made me stronger physically and emotionally, building on the resiliency I already inherited through my mother. The most resilient person I know. I have met incredible people that had taught me so much and of course, it is also the place where I met the love of my life.
I am a proud U.S. Army veteran. I will always embrace the suck. It is the only way to progress in both the Army and in life. We need to get out of our comfort zone and push our limits, mentally and physically.
I will never sit on my laurels. I will always stay hungry.
I will always be an American Soldier.
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