Uncle Sam Wants You

In early spring, our 17-year-old son—our second son—came to us and asked if we’d go with him to meet an Army recruiter. 
He’s a junior in high school now, will be a senior in the fall, and turns 18 in August.

He’d asked about a college in Nashville. 
Then the Army recruiter showed up at school, and that was it—he dropped the college idea and zeroed in on the military.

So we went to talk to the Army recruiter.

We had no intention of signing anything, but he was strongly adamant that this was what he wanted. 

We discussed it with him and with the recruiter, and he was still strongly adamant—the Army was his chosen path in life.

So we ended up signing his enlistment papers so he could join through the Delayed Entry Program.

Last month he went for his physical, passed that, signed his contract, and took the Oath. 
He now belongs to Uncle Sam.

He scored high enough—on that test they give—that he could’ve had his pick of any job in the Army. 
The Army guys tried to talk him into various roles. 
I remember one being bomb-something-or-other. 
But he was strongly adamant: he wanted Infantry.

So in June 2012, he’ll go to Fort Benning, Georgia for basic training.

Until he leaves for basic training, he’s in the Future Soldiers program. 
Every Thursday, he has to go to M to the Recruiting Station. 
That’s a 60-mile round trip.

So now my life has become a list of “lasts.” 
This is the last summer we spend with our second son. 
This will be the last birthday we spend with him. 
The last Christmas. 
The last—you know—everything.

Next year at this time, he’ll be preparing to graduate and then go into basic training.

I am NOT being morbid and thinking he’s going to die. 
No, it’s just the last time we’ll have him with us, because next year he’ll be in the Army—and unlike our first son, he won’t be close enough to visit us regularly.

I am afraid for him. 
Who wouldn’t be afraid for a child serving in the military in these times?

But if I’m truthful: there’s not a darn thing in this area for a poor white boy. 
We can’t afford college—he scored good on the ACT, but it’s doubtful he can get the grants and such he’d need. 
The only future open to him is factory work, retail, or fast food.

I’m not knocking that. 
My mom worked 42 years in a factory. 
I worked in a factory. 
My husband has spent 33 years in a factory.

But don’t we all want more for our children?

Yes, I am scared to death of losing him.
 But on the other hand? 
He’s going places. 
He’ll see places we’ll only dream about. 
He has a guaranteed job for the next 8 years—provided he doesn’t get shot or blown up. 
He has the opportunity to get an education. 
He has the future open to him.

After reading all the material we were given, I think he made a very good decision for his life. 
The military sounds amazing, and it sounds as if the benefits outweigh the risks. 
I’ll just keep my fingers crossed that he gets sent to Alaska and not Afghanistan.