When the training is over, the transition is inevitable and quick. A few things begin to directly hit your consciousness. Most normal healthy 18 years olds do not candidly discuss their own mortality. We quietly waited in line for our turn at the desk. It was now my turn to answer a few simple questions and sign on the dotted line.
Being single and somewhat carefree, my situation was pretty much straightforward. We had a ten thousand dollar policy to distribute, in the event of our demise. The figure would bury us, leaving some extra for a favored kin. This was the last chance to consider my potential beneficiaries before hostile action. I signed and moved on. We were informed that medics have a 50% chance of returning without a wound or fatality, with only six months of frontline exposure.
We were issued new uniforms…jungle fatigues and boots. We were provided with rucksacks and nylon liners designed for tropical sleep, underneath the sheltering ponchos. We packed our winter gear in separate duffle bags…that none of us would ever see again. Personal items could be given away or taken home on the last leave.
We assembled by unit for group pictures. For some, this was the last picture taken alive. To this day, we look back on those pictures and mark the wounded (WIA) and many killed (KIA).
Shot records were given a final review. I was pretty much up to date. For some men, whose immunization records were lost, this would be a day of painful reckoning. Everything necessary for deployment was given highest priority.
Our medics were called aside one afternoon. We all demonstrated, on each other, the ability to thread a needle into a vein. We proved readiness for the inevitable gunshot wounds.
The air was thick in anticipation. When the army says you are ready…you are ready. There was only one more remaining event, entitled to every deploying soldier…the last leave to go home. This leave would be filled with uncertainty, but it would allow us one more glimpse of the things we would be fighting to preserve…and for that which we strived to return.
We had a Rendezvous with Destiny, days not weeks, after final leave.
Dedicated to the families, of those who said their last good byes, on that last leave before deployment. Families also serve…all too painfully.
You, my friend, are a gifted writer and these blogs should become chapters in a published book! Thanks for sharing your heart and life.
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Your recall is excellent ,on the money. I still have my shot card signed by Doc Lovy.
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