U.S. Army ROTC Joint Training|Parris Island, South Carolina
First Platoon Barracks|June 11th, 2013 2059 Hours
I sat quietly in my barracks with Sgt. Johnson, SSgt. Williams, and Cpl. Jock waiting for the clock to strike 2100 hours.
“LIGHTS OUT! GET IN YOUR CRIBS AND GET SOME SHUT EYE” Sgt. Johnson sounded off.
“TOMORROW WILL BE YOUR BIG DAY. IM SURE YOU ALL KNOW TOMORROW AS THE LAST DAY OF JOINT TRAINING. THOSE OF YOU WHO DEMONSTRATE LEADERSHIP WILL BE THE ONES WHO CAN BRING YOUR MEN HOME AT THE END OF EVERYTHING!” SSgt. Williams emphasized.
I sat in the dark silently. The scrambling sounds in the barracked paired with the Sergeants screaming at the top of their lungs somehow made it harmonious together. Much like the scattering sound of the dishes paired with your mom yelling at you about how you never done well in school.
What is home? I wonder. As an immigrant who lived in Canada, United States, what is home for me? As a U.S. Army Reserved Officer, is the military my home? Perhaps are these man my family? It has always been a confusing concept for me as I went on the first round of night watch with my M4 cabin rifle. Pacing silently, but alerted until my battle buddy takes my shift.
U.S. Army ROTC Joint Training|Parris Island, South Carolina
Amphibious Survival Course|June 12th, 2013 0600 Hours
“I WANT YOU ALL TO TAKE OFF YOUR ACU PANTS RIGHT NOW. TIE A KNOT AT EACH LEG. HOLD OPEN THE WAIST AREA AND JUMP INTO THE WATER WITH YOUR BATTLE BUDDY. NOW I WILL DEMONSTRATE” – Lt. Cox instructed as he jumped in to the freezing water at 6 am in the morning.
The pants-less LT somehow magically turned his uniform pants into a floating device. The two legs acted as pillars to hold his head up in water as he swam around.
“YOU TWO! WHAT ARE YOU MAGGOTS WAITING FOR? YOUR GRANDMA WASN’T EVEN AS SCARED AS YOU TWO KNUCKLEHEADS WHEN SHE WAS HERE” – Lt. Cox insulted while stared at me and my battle buddy.
Me and my battle buddy jumped in the water as we were told, holding out pants above our heads. I went in water first and successfully deployed our “self-made” flotation device and as I surfaced I started to look for my battle buddy, Jock. Unfortunately, Jock’s pants did not work as a flotation device and due to his poor amphibious training (he was never a swimming guy), he struggled to keep his head above water.
“WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU WAITING FOR??!! GO HELP YOUR BATTLE BUDDY” – Lt. Cox
Dumbfounded and shocked, I swam towards Jock and lifted his head out of the water. As I swam towards the bay with my battle buddy on top of me, LT thought it would be a wise idea to have a mathematical pop quiz.
“WHAT IS 3 TIMES 8 Corporal?!” – Asked violently by Lt. Cox.
“Twen….Twenty…Twenty One, Sir” – Cpl. Jock could barely keep his speech together.
As a result, Cpl. Jock was not able to complete the final phase of the training and had no choice but withdrew his application. He was sent “home”.
However, I felt like with him and other brother-in-arms around me, I almost felt like I never left home. I was not particularly close with my Dad and Mom as they immigrated to the United States while I was a baby. Home has always been an abstract idea of safety and warmth to me. It is almost as if it was an imaginary concept. Sure, I have parents and blood related family, but I felt most at home when I ate, slept, trained, studied with America’s finest group of young man. I felt comfortable, in place, safe, and cared for. Despite the constant yelling, running, training, eating. Despite the wet clothes, long night marches, sickening South Carolina rain. Despite all these, I felt like the uniform I wore was a part of me. I felt like those other young man in uniform are connected to me on a spiritual level. A level of connection that I did not share with my family.
Home, to me, is where the person right next to you will do anything in their power to keep you safe.