AP Article Sparks Nostalgia

Yesterday the Associated Press published an article titled, "Marine Corps meets 142 percent of recruiting goal." It says that all branches of the military exceeded their recruiting goals for the month of April, but the Marines have had so many recruits that they may even be a year ahead of schedule to grow the Corps to 202,000 members. Pretty good news, right?

Wrong! The article adds the caveat that "recruiting is easier in a slow economy, which limits other job possibilities that are available." And remember the golden rule to always follow the money, because it goes on to say that "the Army and Marines have added recruiters as well as bonuses and other special benefits to attract more recruits in the midst of the unpopular war in Iraq."

I am no fan of the media, especially when it comes to stories about the military and the war, but this one is spot-on. And it reminds me of how and why I joined the Marines. Pull up a chair, folks, it's story time.

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I graduated high school in May of 2003. The Iraq war had just kicked off that March, and since it was becoming very clear that we weren't going to pull a Herby Bush and vacate the country we just destroyed, public opinion of the war was going south. The presidential election was also starting to gear up, and since it was obvious that our all-volunteer military couldn't handle things by themselves, politicians were warning mothers to get the blue-star flags ready, because the draft was coming.

As you can imagine, this created an atmosphere of great uncertainty for an 18-year-old male. But I had an ace in the hole: I'm white! Being Caucasian, of course, meant that I had been spoon-fed every opportunity at success -- silver spoon, that is. I was raised in the suburbs while attending a private school, so it came as no surprise when I was accepted with open arms into the state's largest university.

It was here that I discovered I didn't like to study. Or go to class. Nights of smoking Cuban cigars and sipping Chteau Le Pin Pomeral with my wealthy, well-connected fraternity brothers finally caught up to me; I had to withdraw from the university before they could withdraw me themselves.

Then the fates seemed to weave another strand that intersected my life. President Bush, fresh off of landing on an aircraft carrier in a biplane towing a Mission Accomplished! banner, announced the creation of the draft boards. It appeared the politicians weren't just lying for political points. No longer being a full-time student, I knew it was only a matter of time before my number was called. I decided to at least have some say in the matter, so I opted to join the Marine Corps. Nobody wants to get drafted into the Army.

I was soon shipped off to boot camp at Parris Island, and it was here that a life-altering event occurred. I was about halfway through basic, and me and my platoon were training in a simulated urban scenario. I had just completed the phase where we kick down a door in the dead of night to drag an innocent man into the street while his family screams, but the next phase was going to be even tougher. We had to raid a simulated orphanage and steal the oil that was used to heat the baby formula, all without waking the children. As I was walking in I tripped and fell, tried to catch myself as I landed, and shattered my wrist. I was medically separated from the Marines without ever having become one of them.

Needless to say, I was devastated. I returned home and drifted for a while before finally deciding to apply for college again. I was accepted into the same university, but I went back to find a very chaotic situation. The anti-war movement had grown so large that it was staging huge, daily protests on campus. Getting to class was next to impossible, so many professors were forced to cancel their classes for the semester.

I had been kicked out of the military and now couldn't go to school, so I had to get a job. I applied for several respectable positions: stock boy at Wal-Mart, cook at McDonald's, even gas station attendant. But the recession that began on January 21, 2001 was still in full effect, so no one was hiring. With no jobs to be had and after several months of living hand to mouth, I was at rock bottom. By then my wrist had healed, so my only option left was to join the military. I went back to the Marines, made it through, and I'm still in today, making the world safe for the American way.