after action review

(I wrote most of this prior to graduating from AIT on 6 April.)

IT SEEMS STRANGE, but I was better informed about current events in general, and the war in particular, before I joined the military. At BCT (Basic Combat Training, aka boot camp) this was understandable, as the prevailing wisdom still maintains that isolating recruits from the outside world aids the soldierization process. Even newspapers were considered contraband; any questions that I raised about happenings in Iraq were generally rebuffed.

I did expect the isolation to lessen at AIT (Advanced Individual Training). And in a way it has: I have a cell phone, and a laptop connected to wireless broadband in my barracks room. The problem however remains one of time. Over the past five months, my average duty day has run about 15 hours, and apart from four-day weekends surrounding federal holidays we often get just over a day off each week.

Nonetheless, life here at Fort Huachuca is far better than basic training at Fort Jackson. The latter is often called “Relaxin' Jackson” for its reputation as the easiest BCT installation in the Army. But as I learned, such reputations can be misleading. Not that the training regimen itself was that difficult, mind: infantry training is far more grueling that that undergone by combat support personnel. But what made my boot camp experience such an infernal bitch was the low physical and moral caliber of many of the recruits in my BCT company.

I was expecting a certain level of immaturity—the average age of Army recruits is, after all, some 15 to 20 years less than my own. What I was not prepared for was a sheer stubborn egoism that reveled in that immaturity, and merely shrugged off the consequences of incorrigibility that were exacted upon us all. Such collective punishments have, of course, been part of military training since time immemorial, and are intended to sharpen discipline and improve unit cohesion. But in my BCT cycle they were continued well into graduation week and decidedly did not have the effect of bonding my platoon into a team. Rather, such punitive measures served mostly to wither the morale of those who took our training seriously.

I found myself sharing our drill sergeants' frustration, even while disagreeing with many of the corrective actions they took. But in the cadre's defense, there does not seem an easy way to deal with egoism run amuck. It seems that we are beginning to see the fruits of our misguided self-esteem society.

Larger issues aside, the shame is that we might have graduated BCT far better prepared than we did, if only so much time had not been consumed by disciplinary measures. Each of the three drill sergeants for my platoon had combat experience in Iraq; the most senior was a platoon sergeant in the mechanized infantry unit charged with storming Baghdad International Airport. A battle-scarred Iraqi flag hung on our bay wall as testimony.

AS EARLY AS elementary school I began reading books on military history—particularly those about World War II, which fascinated me with its sheer scope, with how US and Allied forces prevailed in the farthest reaches of the globe. My view of military service then, and for years after, was solely of the virtues of honor, loyalty, and patriotism—reinforced by what little I remembered of my father, who was a senior noncommissioned officer until the day he died.

I almost joined the Army right out of high school, but instead embarked on what became an unnaturally extended academic career. Few of my friends had any military experience, and even those were enrolled in ROTC rather than serving on active duty. Slowly, alongside my original vision of service to country grew another, far less flattering one: that the enlisted ranks were the refuge of those unable to cope with life on the outside—the delinquent, the chemically addled, the functionally illiterate.

It would be easy, and not altogether mistaken, to blame a media hostile towards anything military for shaping that latter impression. But I was also merely imbibing in the zeitgeist: the mid-80s were only a decade after the inglorious end of US intervention in southeast Asia, and ambivalence regarding military service was still common. What is more, the volunteer Army immediately post-Vietnam really was not the professional force that was on display later, in Desert Storm and Operation Iraqi Freedom.

Certainly I was never one to denigrate the military, though I nonetheless carried this bifurcated vision of service for a long time. But 9/11 and its aftermath changed many things, on scales large and small—and for me, renewed my appreciation for those who volunteered to put boots on the ground a half world away. And I felt oh so guilty for not having served while I had the opportunity.

Second chances can be rare. I seized mine (backstory here), though with some trepidation: about the separation from my wife, about loss of autonomy, and not least about what, exactly, I had gotten myself into. And then boot camp proved to be disillusioning; by the end I looked upon half my platoon with utter loathing. Certain of the drill sergeants in our company were less than exemplary. One, after learning my age, retorted with

“So why did you join the Army, PerezMiller? And don't give me any of that patriotism crap. That's not why I joined.”

Do tell.

YET EVEN BASIC training gave reason to believe that my early vision of military service still holds true. Some of my fellow recruits were an inspiration, such as the 34-year-old Romanian emigrant, survivor of Ceauşescu's reign and now a US citizen, who withstood with quiet dignity the undeserved mocking from spoiled juveniles who were in diapers when the Wall crumbled. (She wants to be a journalist, and in a fair fight would cut that Amanpour wench off at the knees.) Nonetheless, I fervently hoped that AIT would help mend my battered faith.

So it has proven, even if there is still far too much jackassery here. On occasion I encounter an NCO—typically 10 years or more my junior—with an attitude that sorely tests my ability to bite my tongue. And given that we are learning a “thinking” MOS, there are about a dozen in my platoon of 105 that make one wonder just how the hell they got here.

Still, no training environment is perfect, and this is about as good as it gets under the lidless eye of TRADOC. On the whole I have been impressed with both our company cadre and our classroom instructors. Two men in particular stand out: the senior instructor for my class, a retired master sergeant, and the ranking drill sergeant of our platoon, himself a former instructor and a consummate professional.

Happily, with certain exceptions my fellow trainees are of much higher quality than most I encountered at Ft. Jackson. In a society wherein a cheap “diversity” is the obsession of the age, the Army actually lives it: my platoon has liberals and conservatives, Russian and Turkish emigrants, representatives from coastal Blue and heartland Red, even a very few who joined up in spite of opposition to Gulf War II. Some of the younger soldiers are a true credit to their generation—including my roommate, not a year out of high school, who demonstrates a maturity and generosity I did not possess at his age.

Among those of my colleagues who enlisted as E-4s, my education marks me as merely unusual, not unique. One is a Los Angeles attorney in his early thirties with a true gift for Army PT; odds are he'll be at Ranger School within a year. Another is a history teacher from San Francisco with two masters degrees and a penchant for savaging academic postmodernists, Che fetishists, and the occasional preening NCO with equal alacrity. (He's a thinking liberal who I introduced to Victor Davis Hanson and then, in something of a coup, to NRO.)

There are still mornings that I stumble out of bed at 0430 and wonder just what I've done. The prospect of deployment to a hot zone weighs heavily—even if, unlike those in the active Army, I get to go home after finishing here. In the end, the primary question remains: After all the boredom, stress, sleep deprivation, sundry respiratory infections, homesickness, indignities large and small, insufferable egotists, field rations, all-pervasive vulgarity, horrifying haircuts, and general unmitigated bullshit—would I do this again?

Absolutely.

I'm proud of your patience and the example you set for all of us. My hope is that you helped set an example to others in your unit. Godspeed my long time friend and brother in Christ

Good stuff Perez-Miller!

Thanks for taking the time to give us an update. We're all proud of you!!

I was referred to your blog by the www.solomonia.com blog. Let me express my appreciation and support for you and all your fellow soldiers. Excellent post. Godspeed, Soldier................

Tony: Thanks for the brain dump. I have been really curious about your experiences with Army training, and your description is fascinating. I am disappointed by the members of your group who forced the focus to be on discipline rather than training. I guess I shouldn't be surprised, though. It's good to hear that you have met others who really shine, and demonstrate the strength and diversity of our soldiers. The negative aspects of your experiences really resonate with my childhood (not uniquely, by any means). I don't have to deal with these things as an adult, but I found my lingering anger and frustration with some of my fellow men a real stumbling block in considering a career in the ordained ministry. Reminds me of a great Bonhoeffer quote: "Only because God has become human is it possible to know and not despise real human beings." I know that sounds tremendously misanthropic, but there's some deep wisdom there.

Thanks again for your thoughts! I look forward to the next installment.

Excellent writing. Nothing has really changed since back when i went to basic in 1993. The reality of it that basic training is a perfect reflection of humankind in general. Anyone with their eyes open (as your's appear to be) gets to learn extremely valuable lessons in human nature. Lets face it, no matter where you go, you will find people of all different types of moral, ethical, and intellectual levels and basic training is can be a "learning ground" for anyone paying attention.