Personal Narrative: Oceanside

We were told to get in rows and stand at the positon of attention, this was frightening. We were told to run to the bus from here, this is where I was split up with everyone I came with. The base was three hours away from the airport. On the bus ride over there I called and texted everyone I knew for three hours. I called Jed first, he could not talk long because he had a meeting, although I knew if I called my mom or Ayden they would both cry and that would make things harder on me. After I talked to Jed and he convinced me everything was ok after 20 minutes of me crying to him as if he could come pick me up and take me home. After this I texted Boone to be sure he made it on a shuttle, he did. Boone was on the Shuttle behind me. That was the last time I talked to him until the day after graduation. We made it to the reception building at nearly 11 o’clock and briefed until about one. We finally got to bed at 2, and we were woken up at 4:30 the following morning. During reception they checked our dental, blood type, eye sight, etc. this is where we received our uniforms, and most importantly where we met our first Drill Sergeants. In receptions Drill Sergeants are almost done with their contracts, they cannot make you preform corrective action, or give you RBIs, all they can do is get really close to you and scream as loud as they could. I was here for seven days, and then after those seven days were

I waited eight weeks and a straight twenty-three hour drive to Texas to see my brother. We were getting to spend two days on the base and two around town with him. It was a chance to spend time with him before he headed off to technical training, also known as tech school. He was graduated at Joint Base San Antonio, it is an amalgamation of the United States Army Fort Sam Houston, the United States Air Force Randolph Air Force Base and Lackland Air Force Base. I got the privilege of visiting the Lackland Air Force Base section.

I was yelled at, teased, and tried. But I never gave up hope. To tell you the truth, I loved it there at the U.S. Marine base. For a while, at least.

My first assignment was in Virgina Beach, Virginia at the Little Creek Naval Amphibious base. It was a big but not massive base. We did a lot of interaction and joint training with the soldiers at the Army's Fort Story that is pretty close. It was constant drilling as there was always some sort of hot spot in the world that we may have shipped to. We played a number of war games with our own surface fleet and submarines to check our rediness for any sort of amphibious assault that we may have been called upon to do.

One day he was summoned to the Squadron Office and told to report to Technical Sergeant Tullos. Now this is another of those instances where growing up in a small town pays off. The Master Sergeant instructed Private Willis to take a seat. When he had, the Sergeant asked him “are you really from Neshoba County, Mississippi?” Private Willis answered “well I sure am”, to which the Sergeant replied “so am I”. Then the Sergeant asked him if he knew Danny Tullos. Private Willis replied “Yes I do. I played basketball against him in school. He went to Forestdale High School”. The Sergeant replied “That’s right, he’s my brother. Next time you see him, tell him I said hello”, and with that Private Willis was dismissed. Two days later when the daily listing of permanent duty station orders were posted, a listing which was always in alphabetical order, Private Willis found his name at the top of the list. He had been assigned to Headquarters Second Air Force at Barksdale Air Force Base. Now Private Willis had never heard of Barksdale but was pleased to learn it was located in Bossier City, Louisiana and later learned that it was the closest Air Force facility to where he had grown up. Serving in the military, you met, eat, sleep and perform daily functions with people from all across this

“None whatsoever. I was with young men from New Jersey on the flight, and when we landed at the base in San Antonio, we got taken to a large tent which had temporary wooden cots

Silence and darkness loomed over the room. Other than the occasional snore and bed creak, the room is silent, oblivious to the war that is being fought in Vietnam. Men are being ripped apart; their innards mercilessly pierced by the multitude of rounds penetrating through the air. One wrong move and suddenly, you’re soaking red, staining the garment around your torso and cementing your fate. But in this room, we were oblivious to such pains, such bloodshed. It was like if the war wasn’t even happening at all, isolating us from the pain and the death that would ultimately be subjected upon us. One of these days, we were going to be deployed, with almost ninety percent certainty that we would never see our families again. Ah, fuck it! I joined

To begin with, arriving at Ft Sill, Oklahoma from Florida was a drastic change in cold weather, elevation, and environment. “Welcome to the US Army, privates”, I remember the Drill Sergeants saying with smirks on their faces. Everything went from being peaceful and calm, to sudden screams, and rushing as if the world was about to come to an end. We were escorted out of the bus with eyes watching us from every single angle. As soon as everyone lined up, we had to unpack our bags and throw every belonging on the floor in order to be checked. The next day, an

I felt sorry for the basics because they were woken up the unpleasant sounds of whistles and metal trash cans. Within five minutes the entire encampment was ready for PT. The PT was easy. It consisted of push-ups, sit-ups, flutter kicks and not so challenging developmental calisthenics. It lasted for about forty-five minutes. After PT was done we were ordered to be at the chow hall at exactly 8:00am. One of the best things about being in the ATF was that we got to take our showers before any other cadets in our barracks did, so it left us with about three minutes every day to inspect and correct our uniforms. We met up with the females in front of the chow hall at 8:00 am and had our breakfast. After having our meal of delicious eggs, bacon, and milk we were taken to the combat simulators. As usual we were the first flight to do the simulators. The first simulator we attended was the convoy simulator. My convoy was with Birthday who was the radio operator and Hermes who was the driver and I got to be the gunner. Unfortunately for me the machine gun broke, so I did not do much and Hermes crashed the Humvee. Next we went to the firearms simulator and shot targets on a projector screen. I was using an M-4 A1 assault rifle, and then I saw the light machine gun which Dancer was using. After five minutes I convinced Dancer to trade firearms with me. Out of all the excitement combined with random adrenaline rush, I

The United States has always been “home” to me because I feel that I am a bit of the quintessential American story. I was born to immigrants hoping for a better opportunity than what was offered from their third world home country. I was raised and went to school here, which blended many of my parent’s home culture and the new American culture. As I have matured, I have noticed how much my life has been influenced by society’s opportunities and issues. The American character is the crossroads of opportunity, struggle, and hopefulness because the it is not only a reflection of the founding father’s ideas, but also a reflection of minorities who have interjected their experiences that shaped my American journey.

Many people believe that Orange County, California is the best place to live for its great location, community and economic strong hold. But what those people forget to take into account is the people that make up this community. Living in Mission Viejo, an overwhelming amount of people think that this a place of Eden, that has the greatest neighborhoods to raise children. Well they are wrong. Our self-inflicting wounds are done by teenagers who choose to poison themselves. I was once one of them.

California has always held a special place in my heart for many different reasons. I was born and raised in this state and although there has been many drawbacks to being Californian, it has always been a place of comfort for me. California has played a huge role when it comes to the person I am today and why I have such an open mind, love for different cultures, and my willingness to work hard for the so called “California Dream.”

I grew in a very small Northern California town. I am an only child and I was mainly raised by my mom who worked full time as a waitress. These are only two sentences about me, however I think they paint a picture about the way I look at the world. When you think small town you think sheltered, and you would be right. When you think Northern California you think liberal, you would again be right. When you think only child of a single parent you think independent but close to her mom, you would once agin be correct. Perhaps you didn’t guess all those things from the first two sentences, but I am here to tell you that many people can. I tend to read like an open book. I’m easily guessable.

My father finally spoke up and said abruptly, we are moving to California. I said what!. That answer moving to California, was almost equal to my uncle telling me "Your Sister Jackie is dead." I knew that my girlfriend, my anchor on earth was disappearing from my life. And now she was gone, 35 days after I lost my sister. My earth angle, I dreamed of being my wife was gone. I felt like I was having a nightmare and couldn't wake up, how could all this be happening to me. Despair sit like a stone in my stomach, like concrete boots dragging me toward what felt like my inevitable end. "I'm not going to make it. "I was in a state of melancholy depression.Laced with a fatal sense of my own wretchedness. I was fourteen years old and felt like I was

There I was sitting in the tender, which has just set off from the Veendam, hoping not to