My Time In The Army

By Michael Crook

I was in Atlanta, Georgia once. But it was so fast that I don't remember anything at all about it. That is because I arrived there by way of a direct flight from Philadelphia. Once arriving at the Atlanta International Airport, myself and my three travel companions were taken quickly to an awaiting bus where we, and several other recruits were to be taken to Fort Benning, Georgia. This would begin our Army experience.

I joined the Army in the summer of 1999, after two years of battling red tape. My major obstacle was a heart condition that the Army felt was disqualifying. Thankfully, at the Military Entry Processing Station (MEPS) in Philadelphia, the qualifying doctor was so busy with other recruits, it being ship day, the day when recruits from all military branches ship out at once, was so busy that he just passed me through.

When I arrived at Fort Benning, it was well past midnight. Immediately upon stopping, a small, but loud man I would later know as Sgt. Harris stomped onto the bus and ordered us off and into the processing station "Now, Now, NOW!!" For the next six hours, we would fill out paperwork, go through a shakedown, where EVERYTHING was inspected, and drop off our personal items at our bunks. But we wouldn't sleep that night. At 0700, we were swept through the mess hall for the quickest breakfast I ever had, and then off to morning drills. We weren't permitted to sleep until 2100 (9pm) that night.

The following week, after a week of yelling, intimidation, and brutal drills, it was time to qualify to go "down range," or to the actual training fields. I will always remember that morning. I didn't have breakfast, nor anything to drink before going through the 0500 (5am) drills, which included push-ups, sit-ups, jumping jacks, and a mile run. I didn't make it through the mile run, because I almost passed out. As much as I tried to avoid it, the Drill Sergeant saw it, and ordered me to the doctor. At the doctor's office, he listened to my heart, and heard the murmur that I will be stuck with for life. He asked me about it, and pulled my records. He saw that I hadn't indicated a heart condition, and he lectured me on what could happen to a "fraudist" such as myself. He then requested my medical records from home.

That started a three week wait for the medical board to "officially" discharge me. In the meantime, I was assigned to be an orderly in the company office, doing mundane office chores for the sergeants. On the surface, three weeks is a short time, but the work shift was from 0500 until 2100 every day, with only brief meal breaks, seven days a week. Granted, I was allowed to attend church services for two hours on Sundays. While serving as an orderly, I saw many men come through and try to escape the base. They were always caught and made an example of by the Military Police. That always baffled me. Here I was trying to stay in the Army, and then several men who had the chance to finish their training tried to escape. It never made sense to me, and angered me. They had the opportunities that I no longer had.

Finally, on a sunny Thursday afternoon, the company commander stomped up the steps with several yellow envelopes- discharge papers for myself and several other "wash-outs." She ordered me to sign my papers, and told me not to bother with the option I could have checked to request an appeal. "You won't get it". To this day, I regret not listening to my instinct and trying for an appeal. The worst that would have happened was that I would have served as an orderly for another month. On top of all that, I was still paid my normal salary. Because of that, when I was discharged, I had more than enough money to return home to New Jersey, considering the Army didn't pay for the trip home.

Though I didn't actually make it into the Army, I will always remember my time in the Fort Benning Reception Battalion, and the friends I did make. I guess I'll never know what I could have become or done in the Army, but it would have been nice to have the chance to find out. Maybe I'll go back to Atlanta, just to actually see the city when I'm not rushing to make a flight.

(Written in 2004)