Transitioning from the Army to college has been a struggle. Sometimes I am reminded about my age, either directly or indirectly. For example, whenever a teaching assistant asks in section the year each person was born and the general reply is 2000 or 2001, I feel embarrassed, so I lie and say I was born … Read more
I left home when I was 19 years old. My mom was pregnant with her third child, and my sister was a senior in high school. My father has been out of picture since I was a child. I had graduated from high school but didn’t try to go to college. Instead, I began working. After a summer of selling office supplies, … Read more
“SHOTS ARE READY!…One for you!… Do you have one?….DOES EVERYONE HAVE A SHOT?!?!” This was the start of a party I threw in East LA before I headed out for my first deployment to Afghanistan as a Navy augmentee to an “Airborne Information, Surveillance and Reconnaissance” unit. I was nervous about not knowing what was … Read more
The blistering dry heat of the Arabian afternoon hit me as I opened the maintenance shop door. I trudged across the sunbaked pavement to the KC-10 Extender refueling jets lined up on the far end of the runway. “Airman Young!” a loud, no-nonsense New Jersey voice bellowed, cutting through the hot desert silence. It was … Read more
One of the first skills I learned in the Army was how to shine my black leather boots, though my boot-shining abilities were mediocre at best. Boots are the workhorse of a soldier’s equipment. We say “boots on the ground” to refer to infantry forces who have arrived in some far-off land. Though I didn’t … Read more
I angered my drill instructor, Gunnery Sergeant Coyer. Nearly nine weeks into Officer Candidate School, shit hit the fan. I was tired of wearing my BCGs, glasses so unattractive and cumbersome they were aptly dubbed Birth Control Goggles. I voiced my disdain for them to the gunny in front of the entire class. Coyer immediately … Read more
Note: this piece is written from the perspective of the author’s wife. The clock ticked to 22:00, the colon antagonistically flashing to remind me of each passing second. I sat on the edge of my twin bed, pushed together with his to resemble a king-sized bed, while the musty, sunburned Iraqi dust again settled. Sitting … Read more
2015 was the year I came off active duty. On the day I came home, my flight was scheduled to land at John Wayne Airport in Orange County. This homecoming wasn’t filled with the presence of loved ones or sunshine; instead, I stepped off a three-hour flight from Washington into the late hours of an … Read more
I stand in my living room, dressed in my naval flight suit and boots. My first-born daughter stays in the opposite corner, crying inconsolably. Her sobs and wails shake her tiny two-year-old body, her hair a mess, as she stands away from me, body facing the corner, defiant. She is angry. She is sad. She … Read more
Note: In this narrative, the author appears as the character named “Hilal.” It was a long ride back to Camp Anaconda, a.k.a. Mortaritaville, Iraq. My ears were still ringing from the blast. I was tired, hungry, and needed a shower. But I could only muster up enough energy to break out the laptop and email … Read more