From James Wyatt's ENGL 101 class at Yokosuka:

People have a lot of different reasons for making the plunge and joining the service. They each have their own story about how they got started down the road to thirty second showers and sharing a room that was almost the same size of their garage at mom and dad’s house with thirty-five other people, most of whom seemed to have been raised in a barn with a dirt floor or so the smell coming from their racks would indicate. Some people just see something about it that interests them, some want more schooling and training, some follow in their father’s footsteps, while others just need a job where they are told what to do and the security it brings with it. Then there are some who think that it’s easier to do four to six haze gray and underway than five to ten with a roommate that introduces you to the guys as my “bitch”.

Me, I was just bored and wasting away at a dead end job. At two dollars an hour I wasn’t reaching the great American dream of a two car garage, two and half bath, three bedroom ranch style home on five acres of land very fast. Up and moving at god awful early so I could feed and water thirty or forty horses before I had to hit the job site and pound six inch nails with a twelve pound slug hammer until sunset, when, I was blessed to be able to go back and, you guessed it, feed and water thirty or forty horses, because it’s not like they could just run out and call for pizza delivery.

Believe me it was really a brain racking decision to try and better my situation and move it on up to hopefully a better paying job. But about two seconds after the thought popped into my beady little mind (I was a slow thinker), and the heavy twisting of my arm - NOT - I convinced myself that maybe I should go talk to a recruiter and see about living the finer life. Moving into a condo on the beach in the Hawaiian Islands, (cause that’s where you live right? That’s what the Army recruiter told me and I know he wouldn’t have lied.), or traveling to far off exotic places and catching strange exotic diseases that I’d never heard of. It didn’t take me long after I got to the ship to find out what preventive medicine’s job was all about, gotta love those West-Pac’s.

So off to the recruiting station I went. The closest one was in the “BIG CITY”, only a convenient 45 minute drive away. What luck! This city’s recruiting station had all four branches working out of the same building. Again, what luck! Man, I was on a roll, two for two. With all those choices I was sure to get a good deal. I could almost see me styling on the beach, my own room, weekends off, money to burn at my wildest whims, and food fit for a king, imagine, three hot meals a day just like mom made. Who could ask for more?

So, a short while later with great expectations, high hopes, and what I realize now were delusional fantasies I found myself at the doorstep to a dream come true opportunity! I had arrived at the recruiting station.

As I said all four branches were represented in that run down, badly dilapidated one story building. Run down and dilapidated? Surely this was just a temporary location. A mistake, due to I assumed their real building being renovated. Because most assuredly the military had all the finest, latest, greatest equipment and facilities money could buy. No matter I was there. Hot damn!

I still wasn’t sure which service I wanted to sell my soul to. I mean, begin my much anticipated road to a better life and career. I say career because I knew even then that once I entered I’d be in it for the long haul. I just knew that this would be the life for me. Once they got a look at me I’d for sure be running things in no time at all. I’d like to point out also that it took a lot of effort on my parents and teachers part to convince me that Mickey Mouse was make believe and that Superman really couldn’t fly.

As I entered the west door entrance, I was greeted to the smell of old burnt coffee and the droning sounds of sad music from somewhere far down the hallway. Each branch had their own single doorway, except one, which turned out to be the Navy branch. I wondered if it was because they were the biggest and best or was it possibly an extra escape route so you could run away faster when you really got a chance to think this all through.

Oh well I thought, I’m here so I pushed on and two steps later I was at the closest doorway that proudly said US AIR FORCE. An older Sergeant (an E-5 type) pushing 20 years and 40 more extra pounds than he needed sat behind the only desk in the office. As I entered he rose and greeted me, shaking my hand while saying “how can I help you”. I explained my desires to become a member of the Air Force and asked how long before I could depart? You see I had heard of that word patience, but since I had none I wanted this to be a short ride on a fast train to wealth and fame. As he thumbed thru his calendar two then three months he said that it would be three or four months. Not wanting to wait an eternity I thanked him and left his office and walked right into the next office two steps later.

There I was greeted, smartly I might add by a fine specimen of military spit and polish who stood up straighter and stiffer than any other person I had ever seen before in my young life. In a booming voice he boldly and loudly welcomed me to the world’s finest US MARINES recruiting office. I, in as manly a voice as I could muster explained once again my desires to join their fine team and asked how long it would be before I could go and start training to be a life taker and heart breaker and defend the country against all those who would try to stamp out freedom and democracy around the world? He also consulted a calendar. Much to my relief it ended up showing three or four months down the road before I could start getting my ass kicked on a daily basis on my way to learning how to stop tanks with rifles, grenades, and harsh language. Exiting that office quickly with the sound of wimp trailing smartly after me, I ended up at the third closest door which opened into a much larger office that held five or six empty desks. As I curiously poked my head into the doorway not seeing a single soul sitting at all those desks, a grisly, older, slightly overweight – to say the least- Navy Chief who had hidden from my view behind the opened door with his feet kicked up on his desk and a huge brown stained colored coffee cup in his fist, that I was sure had moved on it’s own, said “Don’t be afraid, step on in shipmate.” Never relaxing from his fine military seated position he asked, “What can I do for you, you lost?” Recognizing him from recruiting visits to my school, I asked “do you remember me? We met a few years ago at my school.” I had met him in my sophomore year when he had put a friend of mine in who had graduated at the age of 17 and now needed a job real bad because his girlfriend hadn’t been able to keep her hands to herself. He said “you just graduated from Woodland Park high school last year.” I said “yeah that’s right”, and that now I wanted to join the Navy and how long would it be before I could go? He calmly looked at his watch and said “there’s a bus leaving at 1730 that would be 5:30 pm for you civilian types, you got a tooth brush? No, screw-it, we’ll get one on the way.” So it was that 24 hours later I was on my way to boot camp and the start of a brand new life. I still wonder though after all these years if those horses ever learned to dial 555-pizza.