The Broken Soldier

I’ve been in the Fort Knox, KY Warrior Transition Battalion for four days.  Being away from family, friends, and familiar environs has been difficult.  I’m adjusting.  My battle buddies are helping me adjust.  I’d like to think in some small way I’m helping them too.

The way soldiers care for one and other is truly remarkable.  That this care doesn’t require years of friendship or blood ties to develop is possibly the most remarkable part.  Hearing “We’re here for you brother” bandied about the barracks, the PX, and the hospital isn’t unusual.  And what’s more, the men and women making the statements mean it.

Hardness and obscenity and laughter and good humored ribbing often hide the care and concern we feel (and act upon) for one and other.  Perhaps our way of being sensitive without seeming like pussies.  But the men and women here with me, regardless of where they’re from, their rank, their race, their religion, their education, their background, they’re my family - sans the dysfunction.  For a time I lost sight of what distinguished soldiers from non-soldiers.  As I write this, with a profound want for words describing all that’s good in human nature as revealed in the men and women serving with me, those distinguishing features couldn’t be more clear.