The Broken Soldier

Feeling a bit distressed.  Distress worsened by the strange, shameful enjoyment derived from watching “Heart Beeps,” and what that enjoyment reveals about my personality.

Got a call from Knox yesterday.  Apparently I’m soon for discharge. That’s not distressing.  It’s something of a relief.  That I’m required to be at Knox, well, Ireland Community Hospital, for an indefinite time is.  While I trust Doc Harbinger relative to his comrades, I have sufficient reason, from experience, to be distrustful of the organization of which he’s a part.  Two weeks to three months is the range.  Lots of time to confuse things.  Hell, Dr. Toon confused things, which, to no small degree was part of the reason I went without appropriate treatment for a year and a half, in less than two hours.

The Doc and I are in agreement about one thing: It’s best for both the Army and for me that I be medically discharged.  As Deputy Commander, I assume he has some discretion in making this decision.  At least, I’m hopeful he has some discretion.  There is no way in hell I’d quietly accept the Army or the MIARNG breaching my contract, and there’s no way in hell I’d be physically able to satisfy the terms of my contract.

I’m still ambivalent with regard to the Army.  On the one hand, I’m relieved that there’s light at the end of the tunnel.  On the other hand, I’m saddened that I didn’t accomplish what I set out to do.  That is, become an officer viewing the men and women serving under him as people rather than mission essential supplies.  Someone willing to take heat for his folks.  Someone willing to advocate for them.  Something, from those I’ve talked to coming back from Iraq and Afghanistan, is sorely needed.