Four Months Pass Once More

It's August now, and time still passes as indifferently as before.  I still look back and wonder where the time has gone, wonder how I managed to fit so much life into a time that passed in almost the blink of the eye of hindsight.  From December to April I looked back on four quickly passing months of my second semester of college.  And now I look back on four quickly passing months of my first summer break of college.  What have I done in this time?  I've been to three different countries, entertained two sets of friends, and moved once.  And now, with only two weeks until the start of a new school year, I can look back on it as more or less complete.

I didn't know, until two days out, whether I would even be traveling with the Army this summer.  After finding out in June that I would likely NOT be going to Angola as I'd assumed since winter of last year, I spent weeks wondering just what my fate would in fact be.  As it turns out, I was fated to go to Romania.  I spent just under a month living in Romania with twelve other cadets and our two cadre officers.  During the week we stayed at a hotel in a city called Buzau teaching English to Romanian paratroopers and special forces soldiers.  On the weekends, we were able to make ventures beyond the city limits of Buzau, spending a few nights in Bucharest, a night in Brasov near one of the so-called "Dracula's Castles" and a few nights in Constanta, a beach city on the shores of the Black Sea.  The experience was not so kind to me at the time as I had hoped it would be.  I had a crash course on Army travel, and learned a lot about what I don't like about soldiers- the stereotypical crude male.  But, tempered by the soft brush of memory, the experience has become much prettier as the little annoyances fade into oblivion and the better memories of travel and companionship and new experiences take the fore.

I flew back to Florida briefly for a quick stop at the old house, where Galen met me.  Shortly thereafter, the two of us flew out to San Diego to meet up with the rest of the family for our every-so-often Tolsma family reunion.  We spent the weekend in a nice hotel seeing aunts, uncles, and cousins we hadn't seen in months to years.  It would have been a very pleasant experience had it not be for the robbery.  My computer, my mom's computer, and most of the other small electronics in the room, were stolen from my mom's and my hotel room the last night at the resort.  Our wallets, with all our IDs, were stolen with only a day to spare before our flight out to Korea.  It was a bit of a nuisance procuring new military IDs, and the information lost on my computer particularly will never, ever be recovered.  But we've learned to move on, to learn from the experience, and to trust in God's providence to get us through the experience.

Living in Korea is going to be a different experience than anywhere we've ever lived, and this move has proved different from any move this family has ever gone through.  For me in particular, this move is represents the first move in which I am uninvolved, the first move where I don't feel as though the destination is "home."  These few weeks have been a limbo phase for all of us.  Waiting for our household goods, waiting for our car, it's hard for my parents and brothers to make this house home so far.  And waiting for college, it's hard to me to be patient to get back to the life that I'm beginning to make for myself, to friends and classes, dorm rooms and cafeteria food, my wonderful boyfriend and the Army.  Good things and bad, I'm looking forward to it all and am ready to get back to my life again, to unpack my dorm room, to get myself settled, and to drive my loyal PT Cruiser again.  Four months down, I've made it to August.  Where has the time gone?

Leaving Paradise?

Who wants to leave paradise?  This has been a fantastic summer thus far, and I'm so happy with my time since school got out.  I've loved being home with my family, loved having friends and family visit.  I went on my first cruise and toured an underwater cave in Cozumel, Mexico.  I watched my brother graduate high school.  I lay on the beach and soaked up the sun.

On Wednesday, I was finally able to bring Cody home to meet my parents, and to show him where I live and the beautiful South I love so much.  I've enjoyed having him here with me so much, these past few days, it's really made me happy.  Happier than even this awesome summer had already made me.  I'm so glad he was able to come down, so glad to have him here with me, so glad to spend eleven days with him, day after day after day.  Thank you for coming, Cody.

I do wish I had more confidence in the rest of the summer, however.  I've yet to find out from the Army if I'm going anywhere this summer, or when or where that might be, exactly.  And I was supposed to leave in less than 10 days...  The stress of uncertainty is too much, so I've been ignoring it now pretty entirely.  I hope it all works out...  The stress of moving to Korea is less my burden to bear than it is my parents' though.  I'm not really moving, I'm just visiting.  But for their sakes, I pray for a safe move, that all the details fall smoothly into place, and that they like their home in Korea.  And I pray too that Galen find college to be all he'd hoped and more, that he comes to really enjoy his time at Calvin and that he does well.  Gah, the future.... I don't want to think about it when the present is so perfect.

Homecoming

I had a final during the last time slot of the last day of testing.  It was my hardest of the semester, and studying for it proved more difficult than I had anticipated.  Who wants to study when all around you happy students pack to go home with smiles of excitement and relief, celebrating the completion of their first year of college, or the half-way milestone.  I sat in my more-or-less empty room, surrounded by the few things I'd packed into the one suitcase to go home, and read laboriously over pages and pages of engineering notes.  The exam itself was comparable to a lobotomy; my eyes throbbed and my head ached from the glare of the fluorescent lights on white paper and the strain of three hours of testing.  But then it was all over.  My summer could begin.

I spent the first four days of my summer vacation in the Chicago suburbs with my boyfriend and his family.  It was such a relief to relax together, both finished with school and preparing for our various summer adventures.  But for those few days, we had no stress, no commitments, no worries.  It was summer and we were together.

Coming home was also nice, in it's own way.  The joy of family, the comfort of home, the familiarity of an old routine...  Due to a mix of guests, friends and family, the routine was not long lived, but it was comforting while it lasted.

My brother graduated from high school yesterday.  Which marks a year since I did the same.  I'm so proud of him, graduating magna cum laude, and so happy he had friends to celebrate the event with afterwards.  I wish him all the best making such friends next year at Calvin, and I hope he has as good a freshman year there as I did, full of adventure and trial and reward and success and failure and unexpected turns of events that keep him on his toes.  Graduation is an exciting time, and freshman year goes by so quickly.  With all the new experience to learn, all the new things to do, it's over before it really begins.  I hope he's ready for it.

A cog was thrown in my own summer plans when the Army trip to Angola fell through.  With less than a month to go until the big trip was supposed to occur, I got an email saying the trip was a no-go.  Talk is in the air of a trip to Romania instead, but the potential still exists for no trip at all.  And there's nothing I can do but sit and wait and wonder, and twiddle my thumbs aimlessly and hem and haw and do my best to plan one way or another.  If I go, will the dates be changed?  And how will that affect the precise plans my mom has spent hours formulating for the reunion in San Diego and the move to Korea?  If I stay, do I get any compensation for my time and effort?  Where will I go?  Will I need shots?  A visa?  More paperwork?  If I stay, can I make plans for the suddenly open weeks, or will it be too late?  Bah, I hate not knowing the answer, with the time so close.  Lessons in patience, in trust, and in the way the Army works.

The summer is almost 1/3 of the way over, and I don't even know what the next 2/3 will look like.  But no matter what happens in the intervening months, whether perfect or a mess, I look forward at the end of August to returning to Grand Rapids, moving Galen into his dorm room, and reuniting with Cody before my own third semester of college begins.  I can't wait to see what the next few months, and this next year, have in store.

Time Passes Indifferently

Christmas was 4 months ago now.  On Christmas I sat in my Florida paradise and looked forward to the next half of my freshman year.  There was so much more life to be lived, so many more opportunities to explore, experiences to have, at Calvin College in the coming semester.  My first January interim, the trials of a Michigan winter, beginning a new round of classes, with all the work and learning that implied, friends to grow closer to, a room to myself, holidays and work days, spring break and long weeks with no break at all.  April seemed such a long way off, separated from the present by so many hours, so many experiences, so many plans.  And looking back, I am once more struck by the ease with which time passes.  All the things I looked forward to and all the things I dreaded, all have now passed into mere memory.  Some of those memories are pleasant: my first date with my boyfriend, Interim break, the first day of spring classes, spring break in Florida, days off at Easter.  Some of these memories less so: the spring FTX, interim finals, snow storms, long weeks of trudging through classes, early morning PT.  From where I sit now, the end of Freshman year is so close.  The last week of ROTC is next week, classes wrap up in a month, finals are over in just a week more.  I have a summer of fun and adventure.  A cruise, a trip to Angola, a family reunion, moving to Korea.  Friends visiting in May, boyfriend visiting in June.  Weeks in the sun and weeks in uniform.  And then a flight back to Grand Rapids in August with my brother, to start the cycle all over again.  And when August rolls around, in another 4 months, that is, I'm sure I'll be looking back at this very blog post wondering what happened to all that time.  Because those four months will pass just as quickly as these have, and I'll be sitting at the end thinking, "well, it's all over now.  Where has the time gone?"

Merry Christmas!

I woke up to sunshine this Christmas eve, looked out my bedroom window at a diamond ocean glittering in the sun.  After more than a week at home, I've succeeded in studying a bit of Arabic, reading a few pages of a few books, running a few miles, and absorbing some sun.  Which is fine, really.  I'm on break.

I spent the weekend before Finals Week huddled like a recluse in a darkened room, drinking pots of coffee and tea and frantically scribbling notes, organizing papers, and flipping through books for hours upon hours.

I had a test a day Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, each represented by a colored balloon taped to the door frame.  The greatest satisfaction of Finals Week was coming back to the room after each test and violently popping each balloon with whatever sharp object happened to be lying around.  Calculus was the most difficult of them all.  Three solid hours of the most tedious math problems organized on eye-watering colored paper in a stuffy basement room with ancient lecture hall chairs whose fold out desks were almost smaller than the paper itself.  But it was all worth it when Thursday evening I got to come home to my stately room, my wall of bookshelves, my soft brown queen-sized bed, and my ecstatic cat.  And my family.  It was so good to be home, and the weather has been gorgeous.  Sunny and warm, with a few days of wind and clouds, Florida is putting on quite a show for my time back.  It's so nice to be celebrating a warm, sunny Christmas with family.

Christmas [Cookies] in the Air

December first and the air smells like Christmas cookies.  At least, I smelled Christmas cookies, shuffling off to class through the frozen air, breathe billowing from me as smoke from a dragon's nostrils.  Call me unobservant, but I'd never noticed the evergreens along the path by the Timmer apartments are Christmas trees.  I don't mean they're shaped like Christmas tress, I mean they literally are the same trees that one finds under the big white tents this time of year, lopped off at the base and impaled in a bucket of water, waiting to be shoved into plastic netting and tied with twine atop the family minivan in anticipation of a few weeks of standing sentinel in some corner, stalwartly guarding a pile of gaudily wrapped packages and adorned with heavy porcelain balls and light little crafts made by kids in preschool covered in macaroni and glitter, to await the end of the season when the packages will be torn to shreds and the tree divested of its ornaments to sit ignominiously on the curb for the garbage man.  I wanted to hug it, but decided to be on time to class instead.  Also, people were watching me.

It's been getting steadily colder lately.  It used to be, a few weeks ago, a day this cold would come around, and I would shiver half-heartedly and check the forecast, where I would experience a moment of hope and happiness as the numbers increased back up again throughout the week.  No more.  While there is still no snow on the horizon, it is becoming apparent that this cruel weather is here to stay.

This post has been waiting to come out for a few days now, ever since Tuesday afternoon when I lay once again prone on the ground clutching my weapon in cold, gloved hands, spending a solid twenty minutes in reflective silence.  It occurred to me that those 20 or so minutes on Tuesday afternoons are some of the calmest, quietest moments of my week.  By no means are they the most comfortable.  For them to be comfortable, I would have needed the weather around 20 degrees warmer to begin with.  I would have wanted to spend a moment clearing all the sticks and twigs from beneath me, particularly the one digging relentlessly into the base of my breastbone.  I would have situated myself so my feet were slightly lower than my head, rather than the other way around, which had me feeling slightly vertiginous and also made it that much more difficult to deal with my helmet, the major bane of a STX lane.  I can never see wearing it, as it sits so far down my forehead to accommodate my bun that I spend every STX lane feeling like I have an acute case of tunnel vision.  It is heavy, so heavy, so that the muscles in my neck and shoulders burn trying to keep my head up, at a level that I can partially see beneath, so that on my otherwise cold body there is a lump of completely unwanted, scalding muscular heat that I can't ignore.  And my blood throbs in my temples and my head aches with the pressure of all the bobby pins in my hair being pressed into my scalp by the tight leather headband that holds the cursed thing in place.  Even gloved, my fingers feel numb against the mock trigger, like my toes, unable to wiggle confined in the tight boots.  No, it is not at all comfortable.  But it is quiet.  For those few moments, I have no other purpose than to lie there in silence, awake and motionless and alert.  I can't do homework or play games or plug in my iPod.  So I think.  I think about the naked trees rocking in the strong wind and how sentient they look, like lethargic dancers or swaying dryads of myth and legend, their thin, supple bodies bending far more than seems possible, their spiny fingers extended towards one another like amorous lovers or demented fiends.  I think about the years' and years' worth of leaf accumulation below me, fertilizing in death the very trees that produced and nurtured them in a system that could go on endlessly, completely irrelevant of human behavior.  I thought about the chipmunks I know longer saw running through the undergrowth, now firmly established in their hibernation, content to let the season pass without being involved in it, confident that the natural cycle will continue without their presence or aide.  I had just started thinking about what Army camouflage would look like, were the war zone ever to move to the tundra, where green is unnatural and irregular and brown and white the predominant color tones, when operations began.

We ran a successful lane, ignoring a few snags and hitches along the way.  Predominant among these was the irate civilian and her fluffy snow dog, disgruntled and annoyed to find college students playing soldier laying quietly in the woods of what, apparently, was her property.  How dare you come into my part of the woods, the woman asked us, when the college's land so clearly ends a few trees back the other way?  I just want to walk my dog without having to deal with you people creeping in silence through the brambles.  Oops.  Our bad.  Silly us for thinking woods were woods and that we had any right to crawl through them when they were so obviously yours and not the college's, leaving out the fact that the only reason we're even out here in the cold woods in the first place is to practice serving our country, and ipso facto you, by defending America against all enemies both foreign and domestic.  Forgive us for thinking that you wouldn't mind us spending an hour or so a week walking though, if we'd even known this was your land, which for the record we didn't.  Ah well, no blood no foul.  I was sick of high crawling over sticks anyway.

And that's it.  One semester's worth of Army training and STX lanes over with.  Now that wasn't so bad, was it?  And now it's almost Christmas, when I have weeks of no responsibility, no pressure, no worries until January.  Ready for some Florida sunshine :D

Treading Water

I'm keeping my head above the water.  Not so easy in the metaphoric sense than the physical.  In school, I have to work.  I have to remember to study for the Calculus test on Friday that I need to do well on.  I have to remember to buy new laundry detergent, since the first bottle ran out.  I have to remember to clean my room, do my homework, not let the milk go rotten.  Not like swimming.  Treading water is peaceful, relaxing.  It's so effortless, when you know and understand the water.  When you understand how each kick, each twist of the arm will contribute to your buoyancy, it is easy to float, to keep your head up.  Familiarity makes it easy.  So perhaps the same is true for life.  As college life becomes a routine, it will become easier and easier, until it's finally time to move from "big world" to "real world," to a job and a house and adult responsibilities.  I did so well at our Combat Water Survival Training lab because I knew and understood water.  Going from swimming circles around the diving well, treading water with friends to jumping blindfolded from a diving board three meters up holding a rubber duck M-4 and wearing a uniform, swimming fully clothed 25 yards with the duck above your head, falling in and removing a vest underwater, is not so very difficult if you understand the basics of navigating water.  It's even fun, swimming with friends, jumping off the high dive, getting to lap the guys time after time instead of watching them run by me day after day, lap after lap; walking fully clothed into a shower and just standing as the hot water poured down my dry ACUs and soaked in to the bathing suit underneath; getting out of the water and watching it pour from my sleeves like a hose, squirt from my shoes as I walked; taking it all off to change into soft, warm yoga pants for class, tying my hair in a sloppy wet bun behind my head.  And in the end, I get to throw it all straight into a washing machine and press the button.  Voila.  All done.

It's been nice to have some time off.  I celebrated Thanksgiving in Chicago with a friend of mine and her family.  I got some homework done, ate some turkey, laughed a lot.  It's Saturday morning and I'm going downtown.  I've never seen downtown Chicago.  But I'm dreading Monday morning.  Having to haul out of bed at six and do pushups and run circles and stand at attention does not appeal to me, stuffed with food and well-slept as I am now. Staring down the barrel of a scary Calc test doesn't make matters better.  Stop.  Don't think about it.  Think about Thursday and going downtown to see Les Miserables, think about going from there to the airport to bring your brother to Calvin.  Think about the Calvin-Hope hockey game Friday night, and the low key weekend to follow.  Low key...  Nothing will be low key again until after Finals are over, in three weeks.  Stop.  Don't think about it.  Think about December 15 and flying home for Christmas and seeing family and friends and the beautiful beach.

Raindrops Keep Falling...

Laying prone on my stomach in wet leaves, rain dripping relentlessly, soaking me through to the bone, holding a heavy fake rifle in sodden, gloved hands, trying to keep my head up as my heavy helmet wants nothing more than to push it down, I realized I wasn't miserable.  I would have thought, lying there, cold and wet, with my assault pack pressing into my back, water dribbling off my helmet brim to pool relentlessly on a woodchip just below my nose, muscles shaking frantically to keep warm, while my legs are determinedly staying still so I can forget, for just a little while, how very wet they truly are, that I would be miserable, unhappy, and ruing my decision to join the Army.  But I wasn't.

Truth is, I like that once a week, I get to do something very few other college students ever have opportunities to do.  Truth is, I like having something to talk about in this blog, unique from what anyone else would write.  Truth is, I enjoy the challenge of running a STX lane- a situational training exercise lane, where soldiers practice combat exercises and techniques in a serious but low-risk environment.  Truth is, I think it's exciting to use acronyms like it's normal, to carry a "gun" like I'm used to it, to wear a uniform like I belong, to be trusted with a duty like I'm responsible.  So today, while lying prone in the wet leaves and rain dripped down my neck, pooled in my sleeves, soaked through my gloves, I miserable or upset, but calm and merely annoyed.

This afternoon, we celebrated Veteran's Day with a lunch at a local nursing home for the veterans living there.  Old and frail and deaf, some barely strong enough to lift their cups, yet all that could stand did so for the presenting of the colors.  They stood straight as the national anthem was played on the piano and all sang the words together, their voices deep and wizened and off-key, but powerful and proud.  Members of "the Greatest Generation," they didn't "thank us for our service."  Rather, they took it for granted that we would want to serve.  One man told us he was so "grateful for the ROTC program," grateful that there was a way for young people to easily learn to become officers.  They asked us about our age, our desires for our military careers.  Most had enlisted right out of high school themselves.  The man beside me joined the Air Force 3 days after his high school graduation, and found himself on a plane (he remembered the plane ride had been over 18 hours) over Japan in 1945, dropping the last bombs on Tokyo before the war was declared over.  Strange to picture the frail old man as young, strong, full of life and duty, ready to serve his country wherever he was needed.  The man beside him commented, "the uniforms looked different when we wore them."  These are uniforms for a desert country, digitalized and tan; uniforms for a new kind of warfare, on a new battlefield, with a new enemy.  And someday, when I am old, there will be another uniform for another generation to wear.  Strange to imagine.

Which brings me back to lying in the rain during the STX lane.  Planning a route, marking distance with our footsteps, keeping alert, heads on a swivel, guns at the ready.  Avoiding IEDs, mortars, enemy forces.  Watching all directions from our rally point while a team goes out to recon the enemy.  Walking silently, crouched down, unsure where the "enemy" even is.  Every unnatural item in the woods is an item of suspicion.  Covering your buddy, staying behind cover, aware of who might be able to see you.  Being congratulated at the end for a lane well run.  Perhaps not the most comfortable way to spend the afternoon.  Not the warmest, nor the most enjoyable.  But all the same, it was unique, exciting, and had a purpose.  So when all's said and done, I rather enjoyed myself.  Truth is, I'm glad I'm a cadet. Truth is, I'm proud of my uniform and of my country, and truth is, I'm glad to be serving it, in whatever small way I can.

I am a Soldier.

"I may never march in the infantry,

Ride in the cavalry,

Shoot the artillery.

I may never fly o'er the enemy

But I'm in the Lord's Army (Yes Sir!)"

I remember singing it as a child.  Marching, galloping, clapping my gunshot and holding my arms out like an airplane in the sky.  Saluting with wild enthusiasm and a wide smile.  Yes Sir!  I'm in the Lord's Army.  A sweet concept, half-understood with childlike simplicity, imbued with insubstantial images of David and Goliath and Joshua and the Battle of Jerhico and the Armor of God.  As I grew older and learned more about the "spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms," the concept of the Lord's Army solidified.  The Armor of God was an apt analogy for the battles that rage around us all the time, in which we are all active participants.  I'm starting to realize just how apt.

I am an American soldier.

I am a Warrior and a member of a team.  I serve the people of the United States and live the Army Values.

I will always place the mission first.

I will never accept defeat.

I will never quit.

I will never leave a fallen comrade.

I am disciplined, physically and mentally tough, trained and proficient in my Warrior tasks and drills.

I will always maintain my arms, my equipment, and myself.

I am an expert and I am a professional.

I stand ready to deploy, engage, and destroy the enemies of the United States in close combat.

I am a guardian of freedom and the American way of life.

I am an American soldier.

It strikes me every week how all-encompasing our Army training is.  From financial responsibility to stress management to character, the Army expects great things from its officers.  We must be disciplined not only physically but mentally.  We must be leaders not just on the field but in our daily lives.  Each lesson we learn reminds me strongly of similar lessons I've received in sermons, Bible studies, and other Christian places of learning, like Calvin.  The Army equips its soldiers to deal with death and dying, pain and bloodshed, stress and fatigue, success and failure, fear and courage, love and hate, brotherhood and honor.  Using such tongue-in-cheek terms as "character development" and "warrior ethos," the Army teaches morality and spiritual development.  The 7 Core Values are such that might be championed in any church: loyalty, duty, respect, selfless service, honor, integrity, personal courage.

Truly the Christian life is being at war.  I'm learning how interrelated these things are.  War brings out the best and worst in man.  In the face of death, man is the closest to God.  Likewise, peace is meaningless without war.  Good and evil must struggle, and one must fall.  There will be casualties.  There will be pain.  There will be times when you don't want to get up, when going on seems to take more effort than you have to give.  There will be suffering and misery and, yes, anger and hatred as well.  There will be valor and cowardice.  In the face of death, one finds the extremes of life.  Christians are not in a world of peace.  Christ did not come to bring peace but the sword.  We live in a world given over to the vices of the Enemy, and we are placed here to oppose him, to steal back from him the souls he has stolen and return them to their proper sovereign.  We have an enemy, an objective.  We have teammates and allies, we have weapons and armor.  God equips us to join in the fight.  He trains us and He leads us.  God is the greatest general we could ever hope for, personally leading even the lowliest soldier with care and wisdom.  He is patient but demanding.  Because he knows that on a battlefield, fear, indecision, incompetence, can be fatal.  Seeking to protect His sheep, He gives us rules and standards to keep us safe.  I may never march in the infantry, but I'm being equipped to do so.  But I am in the Lord's Army, and I was born onto the frontline.  Deep in enemy territory, the discipline and rules of the Christian life will be the difference between success and failure.  Life and death.  I'm in the Lord's Army.

Agony of Success

I am so busy.  I don't know how it happens, but everything gets done.  Or it has so far.  My papers get written, my tests get taken, my homework is done...  I even do my laundry.  There are papers to grade, beds to make, clothes to pick up off the floor.  There are classes to attend, notes to organize, supplies to collect, and things to buy.  There are letters to send and water bottles to fill and pushups to do.  There are dorm meetings and floor meetings and club meetings and floor dates.  There are friends to visit and projects to finish and chapels to attend.  I never have any trouble falling to sleep at night.  It's the waking up that troubles me.

0600 my alarm buzzes three mornings a week.  Gotta get out of bed, put on my swishy PT uniform, fill up my water bottle, get to the track.  One hour of formations and stretching and running and sit ups and pushups and more formations and cadences and HOOAHS that come from deep inside your chest.

Every time I put my uniform on it becomes more natural.  Awkward at first, I now walk proudly in my digital tan-green camo, shoulders back, chin up.  Hat on outside, of course.

Last weekend I got really familiar with my gear.  Although my heels have not decided to make friends with my boots yet.  The boots usually win.  We left after class on Friday afternoon and drove to WMU in Kalamazoo.  Awkward and out of place, Charlie Company huddled together away from our fellow Bronco cadets until we marched out to the repel tower and tied our Swiss-seat harnesses.  Then it was confusion as we all got into lines to repel 30, 60 ft down the smooth wooden tower sides held on by our own rope knots around our hips.  It was very secure, as my bruised waist will attest.  Before loading, gear in our laps, onto the navy blue ROTC school bus for the drive to Ft Custer, we were issued our "rubber duck" M-16 fake rifles.  Never point the muzzle at anyone.  Never leave your weapon unattended.  Never drop your weapon or put the muzzle in the dirt.  Cuddle the thing like a teddy bear in your bunk.  Pretend it's a matter of life or death.  Maybe it is.  I aced my written land navigation tests.  I guess I'm just a test-taking pro.  Turns out I can actually read a map, if I try.  Slept in my uniform long underwear in my Army-issued sleeping bag at the end of a barrack full of cadets, mostly male.  Woke up, raced to formation, stood at attention.  Marched my ruck in formation to the FLRC.  Field Leadership Recreation Course.  I had to look that up.  I have no idea what all these letters mean.  Ever.  FLRC- mission scenarios with props and a setup and a goal to complete.  Get across the river with your ammo box.  Escape a POW camp.  Work together like a true squad.  Strong mind, strong body.  Hua.  MRE breakfast sitting on my ruck.  MRE lunch sitting on my ruck.  Freezing fingers, but the MRE heaters kept them warmer.  MRE-meal ready to eat.  Army rations.  I knew that one.  Bus ride to the land navigation course.  We call it land nav.  The one thing the Army doesn't shorten to an acronym.  LN doesn't sound cool enough, I guess.  Mathematicians are fine with it, even though it means the "natural log" and should therefore logically be an NL.  But I digress.  5 hours of hiking down trails, pushing through brambles, thorns, and dead trees, and getting lost.  My feet are waging constant war with my leather boots.  Guess who suffered the most damage.  That's right.  Night land nav.  3 more hours of hiking down trails, pushing through brambles, thorns, and dead trees, and getting lost.  This time at night with nothing but a dim red flashlight to help out.  Red doesn't mess up night vision.  I didn't know that.  It's true though.  A glowstick war passed the time while we waited in formation for the bus to take us back to barracks.  I don't think anybody made it out unscathed.  Some were worse than others.  We looked like the night sky, glowing with speckled stars on a deep, dark field of black.  Only our stars were dangerous glowing chemicals.  So much fun.  Slept in my long underwear again.  There're called poly pro.  What does that even mean?  Had to skip out on the second ruck march as my feet were convalescing from their hours-long suicide mission fighting back against my boots.  Just accept it; they're not going anywhere.  Which means I missed the GAC.  Grenade Assault Course.  They didn't give us any grenades.  They gave us rocks.  Because that's just how gung-ho the ROTC program is.  Boom.  Made it home.  Ate lunch in the dining hall and it tasted incredible.  Took a hot shower and shaved every single hair off my legs.  I needed to feel feminine somehow.  Hobbled around campus all Monday with calves as tight as coiled steel.  But my Engineering bottle rocket flew 122 yards, so I was pretty pleased all the same.  Wednesday morning I passed my APFT.  That's out of the way.  Now I'm just 3 short forms away from contracting and getting my full ride and my stipend.  And applying for a summer culture and language program on the Army dime.  If I can make it through the application process.  But that's a story for another day.  Today I took a test and kicked it's butt, I have a lab write up to assemble and a squad meeting tonight.  Plus a meeting with my advisor to discuss my academic schedule for the next four years.  Does it tell you something about me that I have been looking forward to this for weeks and have already planned out all of my 7 remaining semesters and developed a schedule for this spring?  I know my course catalog like the back of my hand.  Looking forward to course registration.  And seeing my parents!!
HUA!
CDT Wood