Enlisting at Seventeen

I turned seventeen in May of 2003. Two months earlier, in March of 2003, then President George W. Bush announced to the world that he would be mobilizing the U.S. military in Iraq to fight the "War on Terror".

I never followed the news, but it was an issue that was hard for me to avoid. Military recruiters were out in full force and media coverage was everywhere. At the time of the media buzz, I was a junior in high school, maintaining average grades.

I tell people that I enlisted to serve my country because I was a patriot. To be honest, my motives were a bit more selfish. I wanted to be a part of the war. Popular culture glorified the fighting, but modern movies weren't the only ones to blame. The glory of war has been a subject in books and movies that are now classics (Red Badge of Courage, All Quiet on the Western Front, The Killer Angels, etc.). I saw the reporters telling of this new war, a War on Terror being called "Operation: Iraqi Freedom". I imagined myself as an old man, sitting on a rocking chair, never running out of stories to tell my friends and family.

In my rush to earn the title "War Veteran", I started looking for any way out of high school to enlist. I was set on joining the U.S. Air Force because it was highly recommended to me by other veterans of other branches. Many would say, "If you want to join, go Air Force." When I asked why, they would say, "Because the living conditions have to be the best." I couldn't argue with those who had already served, so I took their advice.

I looked into testing out of high school by getting my G.E.D. (General Education Diploma), but the Air Force wasn't accepting G.E.D. recruits when I went to talk to them. Being the hard charger that I was, I began to research loopholes, and I found one. If I attended a state certified night school to finish my senior year classes, and then had those credits transferred to my regular high school, I'd be able to get a complete high school diploma, making me eligible for enlistment in the Air Force. I talked to my parents about my plans, and they supported me. They could see that enlisting was something that I really wanted to do, and they knew that the college benefits offered by the military were probably my best shot at getting through college. We weren't poor, but the strain of college tuition would have been too much for my parents to handle. My grades were too average and my parents made just above the cut off to be eligible for a lot of scholarships. Nor did I have enough extracurricular activities on my resume to be appealing to many colleges.

I could have gone the community college route, but everybody in my high school seemed to go to the same community college in my home town. No offense to any of them, but I needed a change of scenery. Not to mention there was no telling how long the War on Terror would last.

I completed my night school requirements, transferred those over to my high school, got my diploma, and enlisted the same week. My parents signed all the required documents needed to ship me off to basic training. I knew that the Air Force didn't have a reputation of being too close to the ground combat, so I chose a job that would put me as close as I could get. I became an Air Force Security Policeman. I was a law enforcement / security specialist, and the Security Police were the closest thing that the Air Force had to an infantry unit. In fact, our job description included those mirroring light infantry units. We came in handy as Air Force grunts. When we weren't pulling people over or guarding aircraft, we were augmenting the Army in combat support roles.

Two years into the war, the Army realized that their own numbers were being stretched thin. They didn't have enough people to support their missions and deployments, so they started tapping the Air Force and Navy for assistance. Members of my Security Police specialty began being tasked with I.L.O. missions. That means "In Lieu Of". What we were in lieu of was the Army. If we deployed, we were attached to Army battalions and answered to Army leadership. There was some animosity amongst the Army and Air Force, but that was just friendly competition and rivalry. We ended up surprising a lot of people, in the Air Force and the Army. We showed everybody that it didn't matter what branch of service we belonged to, only our training and mind set mattered.

I slowly began to realize that perhaps the reasons for me wanting to initially enlist were a bit foolish and immature.

In 2006 I volunteered for a new and unknown mission assigned to Air Force Security Police. It was an ILO mission, to be one year in length, operating in Baghdad. That was all the detail we got, but we were given perks for volunteering. Aside from the extra money that is earned tax free in combat zones, we were also all given a "base of preference". We told the Air Force where we wanted to be stationed at the completion of the mission and they obliged. While a lot of us didn't know exactly what we were going to be doing, we knew where we were going and how long we would be gone for.

A month before we were set to leave, we found out our actual mission. We were to be attached to a battalion of Army Military Police responsible for training Iraqi Police. We were to play a major role in the reconstruction of Iraq, by helping the Iraqi Police learn how to do their jobs in a country where their leader was "removed" and lawlessness filled many of the streets.

From November of 2006 to November of 2007, I lived in a tent (what happened to those good living conditions?)and helped the Iraqi Police learn how to account for various items such as equipment, weapons, vehicles, and even prisoners. We also conducted joint patrols with the Iraqi Police, driving around Baghdad showing the citizens that the Iraqi Police had the full support of the U.S. Military and that they were well equipped to police the areas. We called these patrols "shows of force."

This was my third deployment, and my most dangerous. When the statistics later came out, 2007 was labeled as "the deadliest year" for U.S. military members in Iraq.

It wasn't long before I began to see my own Air Force brothers and sisters drop like flies. Some months we were sending home injured members at the rate of about one a week. On May 14, 2007, my detachment suffered our only death. A Staff Sergeant was killed by an improvised explosive device while convoying out to the police station his squad was responsible for. That was when I got afraid to see the Air Force Chaplain walking around our tents. It usually meant bad news in the form of either a death or injury notification.

Looking back, I guess I was lucky. I only experienced one attack to a convoy I was on, and the IED the insurgent used was from a distance far enough to not cause any serious injury. My vehicle wasn't hit, the one two vehicles behind me was. I was just lucky.

When I got back to the States, I transferred to my preferred base. I had a hard time dealing with my frustration because I no longer lived in a world of black and white. I became afraid of being tasked for another deployment. I made it out of 2007 by the grace of God, why should I have tempted fate? A lot of people began to label me as a loose cannon and as having anger issues, so I began to see a military mental health counselor, not for my deployment, but for finding other ways to deal with my anger. I don't think that before my deployment I had such anger issues...if I did, I do think that the deployment magnified them. I was angry when people questioned, spoke out of line, acted with no sense of urgency or caution. All of these things would have caused a great deal of problems in a place like Baghdad in 2007.

Given the fact that I enlisted so young, I also promoted young. By twenty two I was promoted to Staff Sergeant and put in charge of people considerably older than me. When my subordinates discovered my age, their attitudes changed. They did what I told them and did what was expected, but they avoided me when they could. They didn't like having to take orders from somebody as young as I was. This aspect of my service made me especially angry. Those people judged me on my age, not my experience. Granted, my experience probably would not have gone far in a civilian job, but in my line of work, my experience was invaluable. I was able to tell first time deployers what to expect, how to cope, and how to stay alive. But since I was only twenty two, many would turn a deaf ear.

Some days, a simple "hello" from the wrong person would set me off. Along with being especially frustrated and angry, I knew that I was also scared. What scared me the most was becoming a zombie. The members who were not injured enough in explosions to be sent home would come back to the tents, and they were literal zombies after what they saw. I know death is bad, but I think that fate can treat survivors much worse sometimes.

After that deployment, I began to drink pretty heavily. You could say that I abused the substance. I would black out and wake up in places having no idea how I got there. It was all that pent up anger and frustration that I sought to get rid of when I chose to drink. It started socially, and then I would opt to stay home and drink alone. I was lucky enough to have never felt the repercussions of my drinking because I was able to hide it from my leaders. This was another issue I was able to work out with my counselor. At the time of this writing, I don't know if I am totally free of the grip of the alcohol.

That deployment was something that I had never dealt with before. When I enlisted at seventeen, I wasn't just wet behind the ears. I was drenched. I immediately began being thrust into positions of trust and responsibility. I was forced to grow up at a rate a hundred times faster than my class mates who stuck around for the community college. I spent my twenty first birthday at the funeral service for the slain Staff Sergeant. A lot of people say that they can't remember their twenty first birthday. I wish I had that luxury.

I can't say that I regret any of the choices I made for my life, but I do wish I would have had the chances to be a seventeen year old, an eighteen year old, a nineteen year old, a twenty year old, a twenty one year old, and a twenty two year old.

I enlisted for a six year contract; I'll be twenty three when it expires. I'm proud to have served, but I'll have a lot of catching up to do.

For anybody out there who is considering enlisting at seventeen (or any age for that matter), I urge you to think long and hard about your motives and what you seek to accomplish. Enlisting for the fun of it should not be your only reason.