11/22/2006
Rainy Days & Recruiters
American Soldier says,
I was driving to work last week and the clouds were brewing up something. I opened my window and took in a deep breath of the smell of rain. It really doesn’t smell any different no matter where you go. It has that unique scent to it. For me it brings back certain memories now. That will come later.
I was coming up to an Army Recruiter office. So I pulled in the parking lot and sat there for a minute looking out my window at the clouds. I must have looked like an idiot but I really didn’t care. All that went through my mind was what to say. Why am I even there?
So I walked in and some young Staff Sergeant greets me. I size him up, CIB (Combat Infantry Badge) – check, 3RD ID Combat Patch – check. I sit down and he asks the basic recruiter questions. Have I ever served – check. Age, residence, etc, etc, etc. So he looks at his sheet and looks at me and asked me what do I want to do? I told him that I am merely interested in getting some facts. I am not making any concrete decisions at the moment. He asked me if I did go in where I would go. I told him Ft. Lewis, WA. I have this thing about that place. I served there when I was on active duty. Now its home of the Stryker Brigade. I think that unit is hot shit. I’d very much like to go to war with them too. I don’t know why, but I just do.
So we share a few stories about Iraq and laugh like two soldiers would about the exploits of life as ‘Joe’. His boss comes walking in and for some reason I always look for two things on a uniform. A CIB and a combat patch. His boss was wearing neither. I don’t know if I am a dick for thinking like that but I just have a different type of respect for soldiers who have a CIB and those who don’t. I guess I’m a dick, but I wear one and earned it shedding my blood next to fellow brothers who did the same. Not some of these guys that get shot at once and claim to be GI Joe with their shiny Combat Action Badge. Yes it is the mocked version of the coveted CIB. That’s another story I guess.
Anyway, back on track. I was in civilian clothes so his boss just looked at me like another applicant. He even went as far as talking about me like I wasn’t there. “Ensure we get all info on this applicant.” He says.
As he was going in his office he said “Does this applicant know what he wants to do?” I was thinking to myself, yeh I want to drop kick your stupid face into your wooden door and hog tie you. Then ask him why does the non combat, non CIB wearing prick talk like people aren’t there. Have some fucking respect, not just for me but for any person sitting in that chair.
I quickly shrugged it off; playing that scenario in my head I smirked and turned back to the other recruiter. I leaned in and whispered that his boss was a prick. He smiled and turned back to his paperwork.
At that point I got all my questions answered and was done. I got the recruiters card and said I’d be in touch.
I walked out of the office and it started to rain. I stood there for a moment and look at the sky. I closed my eyes and remembered for a moment when I was in Iraq. We had just got done a mission and I was nasty from a long mission. My face dirty from mud whatever else from that shit hole. My uniform stained with blood from some shit bag that died trying to be Mr. Jihad from the night before. I remembered the rain pouring down and sort of cleansing me. Maybe more as a mindset than literally. I could taste the salt from my sweat seeping into my mouth from my hair. The dirt and grime dripping onto the ground. I just let the rain pour on me and I embraced that moment. I opened my eyes and there I was, safe at home. Not in uniform, not tired from any mission. I was still the same man just on the other side of the planet now. However every time it rains, that vivid memory brings me back.
The recruiter’s card still sits in my wallet. Maybe I will use it when the rain comes again.
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