I've been trying to write a post about Warrior Transition Course. I don't want it to just be a travelog, so I haven't gotten very far.

Before I enlisted I did a lot of research. Some of it was blogs by Soldiers. I read one that started off with a post complaining about having to sit through a "Family Readiness" meeting again, for his third deployment, instead of spending a few more hours with his wife. The posts from Iraq read like a Mack Bolan novel. The blog ends with a link to his obituary.

Sobering.

I also read Fun With Hand Grenades, by Dreadcow. It's in the list of "Blogs I Read." I recommend reading it from the beginning. He started off fairly enthusiastic about the Army, then lost the joy, but still had the "fight them over there" attitude. Now, he's lost even that, as he endures stop-loss and another deployment.

Dreadcow's writing inspires me to dig deeper into my self.

As a Chaplain's Assistant, I know I may have to kneel by the stretcher of dying Soldiers and give them "last rites", the last comfort they will ever receive. I tried to get to know as many of the 265 people in my training company as I could, and help them stay cheerful. I also tried to visualize every one of them dying on a stretcher. Sometimes I would look at half a squad and define them as "dead" in my mind.

I didn't sign on to help the Iraqi's. I don't give a damn about them. They shoot each other, and torture their neighbors with with power drills. Fuck 'em. I signed on to help the Soldiers. I wanted a maintenence job, but I'm colorblind, so I can't have one. But if I can help a few guys come back from combat and live as solid citizens, that's what I'm here for. "I am an American Soldier. I serve the American People and live the Army values."

Get used to it, readers, that's what I'm all about. I don't give a fuck about the Book of Mark, or what Dogen said, I care about the civilization I have to live the rest of my life in, and my children are going to live in.