Where the Trail Begins

You never know when a small event will change the course of  your life. Saturdays at the barracks meant that you were flat broke and completely out of options. Fortunately for me this was a rare event, but very true this particular day. Fort Sam produced the bulk of the Army’s medics. In contrast to basic training, we spent most of our time in an air conditioned classroom. The atmosphere on this base was relaxed, even for us lowly advanced trainees.  We had minimal constraints. You could actually come and go as you pleased after the day’s training; the weekends were wide open. I thought I had died and gone to heaven. Where do I re-enlist?

A half dozen guys gathered around a bunk, as I reluctantly entered the door. My eyes glanced to see the possibility of a card game. A man had to do something to break the boredom.  Couldn’t see the first card or dice. What I did see was a slick magazine, gluing everyone’s attention. Expecting a pin up, I couldn’t believe these guys were spellbound by army recruiting materials. Monday through Friday provided all that I needed to know about my military opportunities.

John surprised me as the  ringleader. Normally a quiet guy, I never heard him talk with such confidence. John’s voice of authority came from the fact that his father was a paratrooper. John planned to be just like his dad. That sucked me into the conversation, My dad distinguished himself as a soldier, leaving his son some pretty big boots to fill. Anything that would impress my dad was worth a look.

John talked at length about the glider patch head gear and the jump boots worn, even with the dress uniform. We looked at all the unit patches, past and present. That 101st Screaming Eagle patch looked mighty good. But I didn’t breath a word, knowing Old Man Army relished in denying any personal preferences. The silver wings drew me closer. In fact, John wore his father’s pair on a silver bracelet. He lifted his wrist to let each of us feel the heft of those wings.

There is a point where option becomes a passion. When John looked up and said there was a special name for us, I leaned headfirst into the conversation.  John said there was the name given to medics with those silver wings…paramedics! It was then that I asked John eye to eye, “Are you really in?” and he nodded yes. That’s when I heard myself say, “I’m in with you too, John!”

Since we all volunteered, I know that we all had a similar story, the point of no return, where an option becomes a passion.  That was the beginning of my own journey…on the Currahee Trail.