A Basic Training Epiphany

 

We were about a third of the way through basic training at Ft. Dix, New Jersey. I was engaged in the usual evening chores when one of my fellow trainees from the other end of our dormitory style barracks approached me. I had been aware of him since the start of basic, but had never interacted with him. He had a boyish face made to look even more youthful by his army crew cut, and like me was just out of high school. After introducing himself and briefly exchanging pleasantries, he got serious.

            “There is something I would like to tell you,” he said with a sincere Appalachian accent. “I’m sharing this with you because you seem like the kind of guy who will understand.” He proceeded to tell me that he was from a rural area of Kentucky where close knit church going neighbors knew each other by name. He had married his one and only girlfriend when he was seventeen and she was just thirteen. He had already shared this bit of personal information with others in the barracks and they had turned it into a laughing matter filled with derogatory insults and accusations. His feelings were clearly hurt. Without asking, I knew right away which guys he had naively revealed such sensitive personal details to.

            We were a racially and geographically mixed group including a newly naturalized U.S. citizen, a native of Hungary in his mid-thirties. Talk about a fish out of water! There were a few very decent guys, a few that were hard to gauge, and a small handful of bombastic “low life” types that you knew you couldn’t trust. They chided others with childish put-downs, used profanity like it was going out of style, and habitually made crude remarks about the opposite sex. One even stole a camera from my locker. A cheap instamatic camera! Who would stoop so low? These were the guys. No mistake about it.

            My immediate thought was that seventeen was indeed a rather young age for marriage. And thirteen was way too young. However, I knew even then that this sort of thing was not unheard of in some parts of the U.S., so I tried not to openly pass judgement. They had their parents and church community to fall back on and that was a plus. Still, I knew in my gut that it was too early in life for these two to be wed, especially a girl of junior high school age. My reference was my own parents. My father was 29, a high school graduate, employed with a trade and union membership, and nearly a decade removed from his World War II service when he married my mother. She was 31 and also employed.

            My platoonmate went on to confide in me that he and his young bride had had intimate relations on only one occasion before deciding to refrain from doing so any further until she was older and finished with school. He almost seemed apologetic. Like he was making a confession and seeking a pastor’s advice. He also expressed concerns about getting through basic and felt that were it not for his religious faith he would not have made it this far.

            I should have taken it as a compliment that this country boy from Kentucky would turn to me, a city boy from New York for guidance. There were others in our platoon and company from rural areas who probably had more in common with him, and yet he chose me. Heaven knows, I could have used a bit of moral support myself. There was one drill sergeant who had it in for me. The drill sergeants zeroed in on one or two trainees whom they deemed lackadaisical or physically lacking, for a harassment campaign. One guy from Wisconsin quit about half way through. Another from L.A. left base on a 24-hour pass and never returned. I was not in their category. I did everything I was supposed to do, and in some instances out-performed many others. My field gear was old and starting to fall apart, but I never complained. Not once. Drill Sergeant N.  gave me a hard time and I could never figure out why. Maybe it was because I was headed to the Army Security Agency as opposed to a traditional combat or combat support outfit. Maybe he just expected more of me. I don’t know.

            Anyway, I failed to empathize with this young Kentuckian. I was too wrapped up in my own dilemma. A little acceptance and reassurance are all he really needed. It was a mistake on my part. We could have been friends too, at least for the duration of basic. We were both honest young men just starting out and a good buddy could have made basic training just a little bit easier. I know full well that we can not go back in time to redo the past, but if I could I know what I would say to my platoonmate from Kentucky. Without lecturing him, I would be honest and not hide my misgivings about early marriage. Although I had never had a high school sweetheart, I would try to see it from his perspective. I’d tell him that what matters most is that they are kind and respectful of one another. Share responsibilities and have fun together. I should have spoken along these lines. I believe it would have made a positive difference- for us both.

Steven L. Thomaschek