What the Military Taught Me

On September 11, 2001, the teacher wheeled the television into the classroom. It had been the first time I had ever seen the teacher spontaneously bring it in mid-lesson. I thought we were going to be watching a surprise movie. But instead, she turned on the news and I saw a sight that would stick with me forever.

I saw two tall buildings with towers of smoke billowing from the top. I watched as flames leaped toward the sky, trying to get whatever they could as firetrucks and police cars and ambulances sped to the scene. I watched people running away. Even at the young age of ten, I could see their fear, their pain, and their distress. And even at ten, I was able to comprehend the anger I felt toward whoever was responsible...it is an anger that has stuck with me to this day. On that day, I didn't understand exactly what was going on. I only understood that I wasn't going to let anybody get away with this. It wasn't until later that I understood the world wasn't as peaceful as my ten-year-old mind had thought it was. It wasn't until later that I understood the fact that there were people who wanted us dead and gone. And it wasn't until later that I decided I wanted to join the military so I could get rid of these people called terrorists.

Before I joined the military, I thought the only things they would teach me would be how to fire a gun, kill the enemy, and be tough. I thought I would learn about every weapon known to mankind, be a tough chick that could scare any terrorist with just a death glare, and kill any enemy with a choke hold...you know, sort of like a combination of Chuck Norris and Ninja Assassin.

Little did I realize the military would teach me more than just that.

The first thing the military taught me was perseverance and determination. Basic training, as easy as many claim it is today, is still pretty tough on people. It tests you mentally, physically, and emotionally. I will be the first to admit I'm not a people person. I need me time. A lot of it. So when you throw me in with 240 people and force me to live with them every single day for nine weeks, I'm not going to be in the best of moods. And then when you stick me in a bay with 60 females...40% of which were princesses and 50% had attitude problems...I'm definitely not gonna be one happy camper. By Day 3 of Week 1, I was sending letters to Mom basically saying, "I don't know why I did this. I want out, I don't like this, get me out of here. I'm freaked out, I'm depressed, and I'm scared." By the middle of Week 2, the tone had changed to, "I guess it's not as bad as I thought, but I still want to come home." By the end of Week 5, I was writign stuff like, "This is one of the best decisions I ever made. I still want to come home, but not in the way I had wanted to before. I just want to see you because I miss you."

Basic training taught me how to be tough mentally, physically, and emotionally. I am a very emotional person...my emotions probably actually make up 90% of who I am. But go ahead and let the Drill Sergeant yell at me; after all, it had gotten to the point where I could take it without feeling any emotions at all. I wanted to break down, and once I even tried to break down. But I couldn't...I just stood there and took it. It was as if my mind recognized the emotional threat and therefore shut down all my emotions...an effect/defense that has stuck with me to this very day. It was also in basic where I learned to consider military family.

At first, I only considered my platoon sergeants family. Drill Sergeant Shutts was the father figure...he would pick on us, tell us stories, and joke with us, but whenever he was sunburned and hung over, he told us to just leave him alone and go away or else we'd have heck to pay. Drill Sergeant Nena was the older brother...he had a creepy chuckle (which was actually one of my favorite parts about basic) and would torture us with PT constantly, for no reason. He would just walk in the door and say, "Front leaning rest position, MOVE!" and if somebody would have the guts to ask why, he'd say something crazy like, "Cuz you flinched, Private." Drill Sergeant Torrence was the mother figure...mainly because she was the only female drill sergeant for our platoon.

After I graduated basic, I went to Goodfellow AFB. The very first NCO I met there was First Sergeant Lacny. I was terrified of him. After all, the only other First Sergeant I had ever met was my First Sergeantfrom basic, and he had been...well, I'm not going to cuss in front of family but you know what I mean. It must have been pretty obvious how afraid I was, though, because First Sergeant Lacny asked, "Why do you look so afraid, Private?" with a grin. I think it was the grin that helped me loosen up a bit. "I...I guess I just don't know what to expect, First Sergeant."

"Well, you can relax, Private. This is more relaxed than basic."

"Y-yes, First Sergeant."

By the end of the week, I began to feel at home at Goodfellow. It was relaxed, everybody knew everybody, and life was good. The other newbies who came in and I quickly met our platoon sergeant, Sergeant Rodarte. As is my usual reaction toward NCOs I don't know, I was afraid of him at first. Was he nice, or was he mean? Was he relaxed, or would he always act like he had a cork up his butt? Was he funny or stoic? I didn't know what to expect. I quickly came to respect him, though. He was a good NCO with some very easy to follow rules: Right place, right time, right uniform, right attitude...and keep your room clean. The latter one I had some difficulty with, though my room was only bad enough to get me in trouble once. In fact, I think they may still have the pictures to prove it...those pictures were bad enough to give me nightmares to this day. Hehe...oops. I was only late to formation twice. I was always afraid of being late though...I was afraid the Sergeants would be angry and never forgive me for being late. I thought I would be labeled as a "dirt-bag Soldier" or "Blue Falcon." But the Sergeants forgave me, I wasn't hated, and the worst that ever happened was 12 Hour CQ Duty (which I enjoyed to much that I actually volunteered for it a couple times) and a 1,500 word essay on the Army Values and Accountability (which was easy for me, as you can probably tell by this article...)

Around November, there were a few changes. The company had gotten so big, it started looking like we may have to form another company. My platoon, in my humble opinion, should have won the award for the largest platoon in every branch. Our company got a new First Sergeant. I never really talked to First Sergeant Cottrell...by this point, I had been deep into my comfort zone regarding NCOs I knew and I had a tendency to distance myself from new NCOs. The other company had new leadership as well. 2LT Titi Nwel (it took me forever to get his name right) was actually the first officer I willingly spoke to. I had a fear of officers at the time...a fear so great that I couldn't even speak to them. I would salute and open my mouth to say the greeting of the day, such as, "Good afternoon, Sir/Ma'am," and nothing would come out but a squeak. 2LT actually managed to get me to speak by telling me a joke. I didn't know what to do at the time that he told the joke. When I realized he was in the middle of the joke, I immediately thought, An officer telling a joke?! You mean...officers aren't robots? What do I do? Do I laugh? Will he be angry if I laugh? Would it be disrespectful if I laugh?In the end, I laughed. Lightning didn't strike me, 2LT didn't reprimand me or give me an Article 15...and my fear went away. A couple weeks later, I thanked him and told him that he had gotten me over my irrational fear of officers. "Good, good, I'm glad to hear that!" he said with the big smile he always wore. "You should join OCS!"

"Uh...Sir?"

"Yes, yes, you should join OCS!"

"Uh, Sir, I'm not really officer material..." I said nervously.

"You'd be a great officer! You can do it!"

"Maybe, Sir. I'll think about it."

Well, I don't like lying to officers, so I did think to it. To this day, I still don't think I'm officer material, never will be, but sometimes it doesn't seem like such a bad idea. 2LT would alway ask me if I had decided on OCS or not. I always laughed and said, "No, Sir." He also brought up Airborne a lot. It quickly became customary for the trainees to shout, "Aaiirboooorrrrne!" whenever they saw him, and he would always smile and shout, "Aaiirboooorrne!" back at us. Ah, those were the good ol' days indeed...I miss them so much!

Unfortunately, November brought with it one piece of bad news. I started to develop chest pains on an almsot daily scale. It was only after I doubled over during the half-jack one day that I finally went to sick call. I was placed on a No-PT profile and sent to a cardiologist for a diagnosis. While I was on No-PT profile, I was instructed to guard the guidon. So I stood out there next to the guidon. In 28 degree weather. With no "waffles" under my winter PTs. And boy, was it cold! At one point, I saw First Sergeant Lacny walking my way and immediatly went from the "self hug" to keep warm to at ease. He stopped next to the guidon and looked at me.

"Are you cold, Private?" he asked.

I hesitated, unsure of how to respond. Do I tell him the true, or try to act tough and lie? "Just a little, First Sergeant."

"Well, why don't you go back to CQ? I think they could use an extra hand."

I couldn't have been any happier that moment. In fact, if it weren't against like five thousand different rules in Army Regulations, I probably would have hugged him as a way of saying thanks. "Thank you, First Sergeant!" I said happily.

With that, I walked back to CQ, expecting to find it terribly shorthanded and busy. Yes, work to do! But much to my surprise, when I got there I saw 6 other people! I quickly discovered they also had No-PT profiles and had also been told by First Sergeant to come to CQ.

Looking back on those days, I realize that Goodfellow was where I learned the true meaning of Military Family. I considered everybody I met there...even people I didn't like...as family. I would picture them in a combat envirnment and want to be there with them so they could know I had their back. I wanted to protect everybody, regardless of rank from any danger. In fact, to this day, whenever I picture anybody in uniform in a combat situation, I want to be there with them, helping them, and making sure they'll make it back to their family. I still talk to several people I met from Goodfellow, and I'm grateful to still be talking with them. I may never be able to serve in a combat envirnment with them, but I will do whatever I can to support them. They are no longer just friends...they are truly my family. They are almost as close and dear to my as Mom and Dad are, and the thought of losing any of them scares me.

The military also taught me faith. I have always been a spiritual person, but my faith in God was tested and strengthed at Sheppard AFB. It started with the third...and final...chance at a test I had trouble with at Goodfellow. I had just been diagnosed with Mitral Valve Prolapse and given a medication, a beta blocker, that only increased the pain (which, in turn, prompted me to stop taking the medication immediately). After failing the test, I was told I would be reclassed. As I waited for orders, I would run errands for Sergean Rodarte and Sergeant Gutierrez (for some reason, most of the females didn't like Sergeant Gutierrez. Personally, I don't think he was as evil as they thought he was.) I also did details from time to time...I definitely kept busy. After all, I didn't want to look like a lump on a log like a few other holdovers. One of my favorite memories of being a holdover is when I took some folders back and forth at least five times until everything in them was as it should be, and when I handed them back to Sergeant Gutierrez he said, "Nicklaus, you're the man! Well, the woman but...you know what I mean." It was pretty cool. I enjoyed helping out the Sergeants...they were busy enough, so I figured a little help wouldn't hurt.

Eventually, my orders came. Sergeant Rodarte told me I was going to be a Water and Fuel System Maintenance Apprentice.

"What's that?"

"I don't know."

"Where is it?"

"I don't know."

"How big is the unit?"

"I don't know."

It was a mystery. I did research on the internet and found only Air Force codes. I found an MOS that it could be translated to, but it was Plumbing MOS...surely I couldn't go from the MOS I was in to a Plumber! It just didn't sound right. So I looked...and looked...and looked...and found nothing.

And then I got my orders for Sheppard AFB.

At first I thought, Hey, another Air Force Base. This shouldn't be too bad then!So the days were counted down. Sergeant Rodarte instructed me on what I needed to do. He said a plane ticket for Friday would be preferable. As much as I hate to admit it, that's the only thing I did against his rocommendation...I had the choice to get a ticket for Friday, Saturday, or Sunday. Being the type of person I am, I wanted time to say goodbye to my friends and have a final weekend with them. So I gathered my friends...by this time we all had nicknames (Ninja, Mafia, Dtron, Zero, Curry, and I was Squiglet...they never could get used to calling me Squidget like Mom does lol...well, Ninja could say it)...and we ate at Lin's for a final night together...went to Hastings for a final night together...and watched a movie for a final night together. It was one of the best nights I ever had there...aaannndd I'm getting teary eyed remembering that night lol. We went downtown to Sealy Flats where we enjoyed more food and some live music. We went to the House of Fifi DuBois, another little shop that had live music every night (and Fresca! And they didn't give me a weird look when I asked for a can that wasn't in the fridge...I always have liked warm pop better). We walked around town, walked through the alleyways (we all had a fascination with alleys) and we walked back to base. It was a long walk, but it was always enjoyable. I just wish Ninja could have come with us...he was the only one not allowed to go off base. He was a part of night class, and he was a hold over as well. I would always visit him during the week after I was done at study hall. Sergeant Fuentes quickly got used to me visiting. Anyway, that final weekend was one of the best weekends ever.

And then I arrived at Sheppard. It was nothing at all like Goodfellow. Most of the NCOs seemed moody. All the trainees acted like they were in middle school. The Air Force and the Army were constantly at each others' throats...it reminded me of that old story of the Calico Cat and the Gingham Dog. And the atmosphere of the base was an atmosphere that could depress even the happiest of people. I tried to stay strong, but the first couple of weeks was hard. I missed everybody, regarless of rank at Goodfellow. I missed the atmosphere, the joy, the relaxed feeling. My chest pains continued worsening so, with determination, I passed the PT tests and went to sick call a few days after the record PT test. My doctor noticed a few things in the EKGs and such that didn't connect to Mitral Valve Prolapse, so he sent me to a local cardiologist. Seven EKGS, three Echos, and one CT Scan later, I was diagnosed with Sick Sinus Syndrome, a condition that is made worse by beta blockers, along with trace regurgiation in three of my valves and a improper wiring (in the words of the cardiologist, "the veins that are supposed to connect to the heart are not connected, and the veins that are not supposed to connect to the heart are connected. I do not think it is harmful, but it is the first time I have ever seen this.") While waiting for a diagnosis and appointments and such, I had gone through and graduated the Plumber course (yes, that's right...Plumber...I was quite surprised...it's been rewarding, though), had orders for Germany that were nullified due to the medical issue, and finally diagnosed a couple weeks after the nullification. Ever since, it's been the waiting game.

With all that happened ever since I failed the test, my faith has been tested. I started praying less until I stopped praying cokmpletely, a phase that lasted about four months. There were days I didn't even think of what I was grateful for, a habit I had started when I was eight. I didn't go to church, not even the occasional times that I do go, and I didn't feel the gap until just recently. And when I felt the gap, I got scared. I was scared that I had become a different person...don't get me wrong, I was still a good Soldier. I still tried to help the other trainees be good Soldiers. I helped the Sergeants and Commander every chance I got...outwardly, I hadn't changed. But on the inside, I had changed to a point even I didn't recognize. I had to fake my emotions...if something was funny, I would put on a convincing smile and laugh. If something was sad, I would either be legitly sad or just appear sad...that's how all my emotions were. I was stoic and had a mask for the appropriate times.

I was disappointed in myself for letting myself get to that point. Where was the Soldier Sergeant Rodarte, Sergeant Gutierrez, Sergeant Fuentes, and my parents were so proud of? Where was the Soldier who prayed every night that her family...both military and civilian...would be safe? Where was the Soldier I really was? The Soldier who always laughed and smiled, the Soldier who brought comfort to trainees who were homesick, the Soldier who, despite what a disheartening situation had fallen upon her, still help on to hope and the motivation that spread to the other Soldiers and even to the NCOs and Commander? Where was I, the real me, the real Private First Class Rebecca Nicklaus?

One night a month ago, I prayed to God. Not just a simple, "Dear God, please forgive me. Amen." Nah...I talked God's ear off. That may have actually been what caused the earthquake in Oklahoma, was God's ear falling off. The next day, I felt refreshed, renewed, and I was returning to my old self. I'm now who I was again...my emotions are real again, I'm real again, and I'm spreading motivation and hope again. I'm praying for my family every night again...and I'm happy. I'm so happy. Although my feeling of family never went away at Sheppard, I feel a stronger bond with everybody there.

This article has reached a length that I think many of you are about ready to kill me for, so I'll end it right here with a conclusion. I've learned a lot in the military. I don't expect this article to change opinions. If people want to keep hating the military, that's their opinion, and I'll still do what I can to protect their right to have that opinion. I hold no grudge toward them. The only grudge I have is toward the terrorists. And Satan, of course, lol. I've learned so much in the military, and met so many great, amazing, brave men and women, of all ages, all races, and all ranks.

I would like to thank all who serve, have served, and are going to serve. And if any of those who have led me are reading this, thank you for your leadership. Without you, I wouldn't be as strong as I am today. Without you, I wouldn't be who I am. Without you, I wouldn't know about courage, or hope, or strength. Without you, I wouldn't be setting goals and reaching them, or learning the NCO Creed so I can live by it for the rest of my life, or motivating people to stay strong and never give up. Thank you very much, and I am so grateful to have met you and everybody else I have met.

Stay safe, stay strong, and don't change who you are. Please continue to lead Soldiers in the right direction so that someday, they may be great leaders as well.