OCS, So Far

I probably should have started this earlier, preferably before Phase 1 hit, but I wasn't even thinking about it to be honest. Of course, in order to give a full description, it'll take some backtracking which I don't mind to do, so long as the reader will stick with it. Oh, you won't? Well, eff you, I'm driving on.

I was scheduled to go to Pre-OCS at Fort Bragg, specifically at the North Carolina Military Academy on Butner Road. At first I was nervous, seeing that the steps towards my career were beginning and I was embarking on a path that truly held no exits for me but at the end. So, I showed up bright eyed and bushy tailed Saturday morning at 6, with my E-3 rank on cover and chest. Oh how wrong I was to be.

At first, it took me a while to even find the damned place because it wasn't labeled "Pre-OCS come here". I did find it, went to check in and was curtly told to remove my rank, sign in, and grab linen. Well, now what? They told me to go down to the barracks and bring my stuff in, set up and then I'd be coming back for chow. Gotcha. So, I trekked down to the barracks where I saw a bunch of guys standing around inside just waiting. We lined up outside, and started double-timing to chow. I was thinking about how much easier it'd have been had I just stayed with my original decision to go in as a cryptolinguist. Too bad.

So we spend the day doing nothing but power point slides and I'm too nervous to ask any questions. God, what was I doing here, and who the heck are these other guys I don't even know?

Fast forward to our last Pre-OCS drill. We had been doing a lot of training, and I was excited for Phase 1 to begin, but we had to be introduced to our TAC officers first. This, I didn't much care for. It was basically a smoke session, at the end of which more than one person was gasping for air. Then, it was off to Phase 1.

Ahh, phase 1. It wasn't that bad for the first 8 hours, or even the first 20 hours. It wasn't until every state had shown up and it was after our evening chow. We had been structured into two companies, two platoons each. I was Alpha Company, second platoon second squad. Good old deuce deuce. We were formed up on the soccer field facing our billets, awaiting the ominous gate closing ceremony that lurked in the darkest corners of fog and mystery. What is it that we were about to be put through? We all conjured images of death, destruction and mayhem as the Major addressed us. His termination of speech and the music beginning to play cued our hairs on our necks to stand on end, as if displaying that they, too, were at attention.

Smoke grenades surrounded us, enveloping us in a thick blanket under which we were trapped, with some being too malevolent to face. The song ended. Two words, one command later and we faced about in the direction of the wood line. Screaming uniforms bedecked with black hats converged in force on us, wreaking pandemonium for a solid 40 minutes. It was hell. Mass confusion and no leadership to have us all in one accord. I was told by a 1st lieutenant to be on my feet and do side straddle hop. I did so for 10 minutes. Everything in my body screamed violently that there must be an end drawing near. I looked around cautiously, then worriedly. I was the only one on my feet. I was an individual. That would never do.

As quickly as I had gotten up, I was told to get down with the rest of them. My squad was then called up to go stand in line to the side. We complied, gasping for air, water, and the peace that came with standing. The order to fill our canteens was barked, we complied, and we were off to run around the field at a pace that can only be said to destroy whatever motivation, energy, and dignity was left.

We were told to reform, and took part in a ceremony for the graduating seniors. God, that must be nice. That'll be us one day, we all thought. I should say that our group, from North Carolina, went down with 40, returned with 40, and nobody had quit, everyone made it through. Yay us.

It was a bunch of classroom time, soccer field time, and general PT until we threw up. Kidding. I hated low crawling through that field all day every day, so at night when they tried to PT us, we had to joke about it in the hallway in the front leaning rest position. Frequently I recall being so tired that anything was funny. Don't get me started on the length of hydration cords, for example. Or Huston's horse Periwinkle, for whom he made not only blinders, but an identification card.

It was difficult, but not impossible. I had good guys in my squad that I could rely upon at any time, mostly from North Carolina: Klerk, Handlon, Huston, Harris, Jones and Lockett. These guys were awesome, they were squared away, and they kept my sanity.

Back from phase 1, we were all reunited into one platoon, with 4 squads. I wasn't elected into any positions for our first drill. We were smoked bad. Of course, our PL quit on Sunday, but that's because they were pretty much forcing her to. Second drill, smoked a little bit, but not too bad. Actually, not a bad time. Just can't stay awake worth crap. Third drill, I'm elected as Alpha Team Leader, second squad. There's only one person in my squad I'd trust to have my back: Handlon. God, this is going to be a long year. It's easy being a team leader. I did so well, in fact, that I was asked if my squad leader should be fired and I should be promoted. I said no, I'd like to be squad leader for next drill though.

And that's how I'm here now. During change of ceremony, I was appointed platoon leader. Oh....My....God. There comes a point in everyone's life that they have to sit back and say "oh shit". I can think of several such moments, but I won't digress. The stress piled on even before I could leave the drill pad. I had to dismiss my guys. I had to give safety briefing. I had to tell squad leaders to standby and get contact info, then get theirs, then get briefed, then give my briefing.

It hasn't even been a week yet, and I already know I have screwed the pooch. I sent out my WARN-O way too late. I sent out an email to everyone about the ruckmarch and physical readiness and classroom study that I know will be ineffective. I've set my guys up for failure. I can only hope that I'll rise to the occasion, just as they will. I have to secure a 100% pass rate on the test, as well as the footmarch. I have to personally score a 90% or better on the exam. Crap. Now I have to study, do work, do school, write OPORD, FRAG-O, create ruckmarch route. What am I doing?

I have to field calls about domestic disputes in the middle of the night because guess what? They're my soldiers. I have to care for them. I must love them more than myself and be willing to sacrifice myself for them. The caveat: I have to sacrifice my guys for the greater good. In order to succeed as a leader, I must know them in and out and be willing to supply them with what they need when they need it. I must also be detached so that when one of them is lost, it does not strike at my heart or soul so that I cannot carry on with the mission, or my platoon.

It is a great responsibility to have such power, and I can only imagine how lost we will all be when it comes to drill time, and everyone looks to me. All I'm going to say: Follow Me!

At Times

You've got to wonder what's going on, why you did what you did and how it'll possibly affect others and yourself down the road. Now you've come to a crossroad: Do you stay or do you go?

You've already made the leap onto the trail that handrails this path, and it's been treacherous at best, but you've come back to a juncture. Now you must choose, and the it's either the path or one tangential to it. What do you do?

I wonder if this hurt is because there is something still there. Or is it just covet?

Damn

Fuck you...that's what it's about.

I don't get life anymore. I thought I did, at one point. Maybe the stream of events that pushes you into your future is what it's all about. I have no fucking clue anymore. You start with dreams of grandeur: a nice house, nice wife, nice family, nice car. Then it turns to shit in a knuckle sandwich delivered by a donkey punch to the groin. Yeah, that didn't make sense, but I don't care to elaborate in anything but a colorful and inaccurate description of what only a man can imagine as the most God-awful pain.

I'm stuck with a nagging feeling that the only constants in my life are things that I don't want. It's as if my original desires are shackles, tying me down and eliminating my freedom. I don't want this life. I don't like life as I know it. It burns me inside to see my life, my ways, my freedom challenged by my own design. How did it come to this?

The grass being greener on the other side is a bit of an understatement at this point. The only thing worth thinking about is what's new, what's next, what's beyond, what you can't have. Oh, you have what you want? Fuck you. I don't care what you have or what you want. If you don't see it from my eyes, what do I care?

This juvenile observation defines me right now, and it consumes me. I don't want a lie, I don't want a life. It seems right now the two are so intertwined that they have become synonymous. Why am I here? Why did I do it? Why haven't I done it? So many answers, possibilities that it's literally mind-numbing and has me reaching for a drink. How can I say goodbye to something that I don't even know ever existed, except in my own mind? Things I have felt, seen and done lie to the wayside ignored. There is only that which lies ahead, in ruin already.

It seems my destructive tendencies surround me, cloud me and mystify whatever peasant turns to observe. They dare to judge, but they don't. Instead, they pity. Why pity me? I'm living the life I've desired, aren't I? Isn't it for me to discern what I want and not do as others expect of me? And yet, here I am, living another's life, living my own personal lie that has caught up with me and cast me back into hell. Fuck this shit. I hate it.

Give me what I've earned. I won't take it, because I fear what I have sown. My harvest will include mayhem and destruction...but it seems I've inadvertently turned my damned tractor on auto-pilot. Shit. Now I can't help but watch as my headless machine does my work for me, as if my soul were watching my body fuck up the Earth. Oh wait, I'm one in 7 billion...who am I to become so significant? I am nobody, I have nothing on this planet that would stand and attest for a monument to my existence.

Memory will fade, records will be lost or deleted or archived. Who gives a shit about records? What kind of crisis am I in? It's like a quarter-life crisis...fuck John Mayer.

Yeah, I liked "Your Body is a Wonderland" until I heard it time and time again.

I don't even think I'm capable of love, to be honest. I can't feel anything, no emotion, except anger and sadness. Sadness because of lost love, a lost friend, something similar that would cause me to grieve. Perhaps my happiness is due to being with someone, but when it turns bad, then what? My anger kicks in, leading to sadness. What a vicious, pointless fucking cycle.

I don't know what to do right now...cry? laugh? worry? Shit, I have too much on my damned plate to recognize that my life is decent. Sure, it's not the best, but it's not the worst, either. It sure feels like it though.

There are rough patches, I know. Some days people will say are better than others, and others obviously have to follow suit and be worse. Today, I went from fucking fantastic to shitty as fuck in an hour. How the hell did I manage that? By God, if you can figure that out, I'll give you a damned cookie and a half.

This incoherence is annoying me, too. I can only imagine the reader sitting there saying "get to the point, already!" Guess what: that is the point. I am full of regret right now, venting it as a hostile message because I hurt. Yeah, I could go into the field of psychology and make a billion dollars translating people's pathetic feelings into words that highlight what their dumbasses should have guessed if their head wasn't up their rectum already. Big whoop, wanna fight about it?! (Obscure Family Guy reference)

I don't see the point of doing shit anymore...a sign of depression. But, I'm not really that depressed. I can't really pinpoint it. Maybe I need to live, or relax, or just lose everything to find exactly what I do have.

For right now, I can't go to sleep because my heart hurts, and I don't even know why.