The End Of The Affair

When are young and impressionable, we make decision that, for better or worse, have long lasting effects. Some people choose to go to college, some choose to work, others choose to go down less desirable paths. Just over 5 years ago, I chose to join the Navy. I wanted to travel, I wanted to go to college, I wanted to work, I wanted college money. All that was what made me sign the dotted line, besides the idea of serving the country. I wanted to wear a uniform that some many before me had proudly worn. I wanted to part of something bigger than myself. I wanted to say with pride "I am a United States sailor"

Shortly after, I left for bootcamp. No matter what anyone tells you, bootcamp is no summer camp, for anybody. It was by far the hardest thing I have ever had to do. I hated every minute of it, as did everyone else I know. Their intention is to break you down and build you back. They want you to be a team player, not an individual. That of course, isn't easy for must of us either, after all, there is no "I" in "team" but there's an "m" and an "e". Fifteen weeks after arriving on a very cold March night at Great Lakes, Illinois, I left Recruit Training Command a sailor. My ballcap no longer said "Recruit", it said "Navy". I was no longer to be humiliated or talked down to. I was really a sailor.

It wasn't till I got to my first duty station at the Naval Hospital in Bethesda, Maryland, that all my idealized notions of the US Navy disintegrated. I realized that I wouldn't be out there in the field saving lives, that I was no GI Jane and that it was certainly not what I was lead to believe. For 2 years I worked in the gastroenterology clinic assisting with endoscopies, colonoscopies, bronchoscopies, etc. I never worn my uniform to work, I wore scrubs and even though it was a military hospital, it was just that, a hospital, not a very military environment.

Just before the war in Iraq started, I got deployed with the hospital ship USNS Comfort in support of Operation Enduring Freedom and eventually Iraqi Freedom. This was more like it, I was actually on a ship. I was assigned to work on the Casualty Receiving department. All the patients that came through the ship came through here, sort of like an Emergency Room. At first we were just getting normal patients from other ships, and when the war broke out, we started getting actual war casualties.

At first it was hard to deal with emotionally, at least for me. It wasn't so much the adult that I couldn't handle, it was the children. Burned children, shot children. At least one of them, a 3 year old, had been used as a human shield by he's mother. That was hard for all of us. There was the Iraqi man who had half his right thigh blown off but kept trying to grab my crotch while I drew his blood, when I tried to hold his arm down, the tried to grab my breasts. You know, I'm American, so I must be easy. The military police finally had to put him in cuffs so I could finish treating him. There was the 1 year old girl who somehow fell in a tub of boiling water. Whenever they changed her dressing, you could hear her scream half way down the ship, despite the morphine. There were the ones that kept trying to stab us with our own pens and there was the 17 year old girl who has lost a leg and all she could think about was that no man would want to marry her now. Of course, there were also the ones that were glad we were there and very thankful that we were treating them.

Not all the patients were Iraqis though, we had our fair share of American troops. There was the marine who got hit with an anti-aircraft missile and half he's abdomen was gone but somehow he was still alive. All he wanted to do was home. There was the guy who got run over by a Humvee that killed his Gunny sergeant and broke all his bones from his pelvis down. All he wanted was for us to patch him up so he could go back out there and keep fighting.

After seeing all these, it was hard for me to understand why human beings would do such things to each other. Nothing is worth so much human suffering and tragedy and no human should ever have to endure, or witness, such atrocities. Even though this was happening in my United States Navy, my conscience was clear because what I as an individual was doing was OK. I was just healing people. After we came back to Maryland and back to work at the hospital, I tried to live as if nothing had happened, until we had a mass casualty drill with moulaged people. The moulaged looked so real, and all the running around pushed me over the edge. I lost it. I just stood in the middle of the action and just cried. Turns out I had a mild case of Post Traumatic Stress Disorder and I have just been bottling things up and I just needed that release. I got over it right then and there, I just needed to let things out.

Even after all that, I still believed we were in Iraq for a good reason and that we were really bringing the freedom we treasure so much to the Iraqi people. Then, as time went by, I realized that it wasn't just about that, and the longer we stayed the less I believed. I finally admitted to myself that had been fooled by my own desire to believe in the organization I was a part of and that is when the Navy fell from grace in my eyes.

In October 2003, I moved to Naples, Italy where I got stationed at the Naval Hospital. I was assigned to the Emergency Room were I served as an Emergency Medical Technician and an Emergency Vehicle Operator. My time there went by without much excitement. No deployment, no seriously injured people, no suffering. However, I hated all the bullshit we had to put up with, but that's an ailment that affects sailors Navy wide. In those 2 and half years I met a wonderful civilian British man who I am so lucky to be marrying next month. I spent my last 10 months in Italy flying back and forth to the UK.

Today, just over 5 years after I signed on the dotted line, and a month short of 5 years after having gone to bootcamp, I am officially a civilian. I have been honorably discharged. I had 3 physical fitness test failures so I can't even be in the inactive reserves, which is fine by me, one less thing hanging over my head. They took my ID card and handed me my official separation papers and sent me on my way to get a plane ticket to my home of records.

I'd be lying if I said I only had bad experiences in the Navy, I had very good ones too and as much as I'd hate to admit it, I am gonna miss it. This has been my life for the past 5 years and everything I've ever known as an adult. I have been paid rain or shine, work or no work, every 1st and 15th of every month. I have had free dental and medical insurance, whatever I needed. I have never had to worry about having money for food or a roof over my head. Everything has been provided for me, and I am gonna miss that.

A little while ago I was planning on going to Applebees for lunch while I wait for the time to leave for the airport, and as I was about the call a cab, I thought, "If I go to Applebees, how am I gonna get back on base if I no longer have a military ID card???" I had never had to think about that before and it was my first "Damn, I'm not in Kansas anymore" moment. Funny, but also disconcerting. I have been completely cut off from everything I know. I know that I will blend in and function just fine as a civilian, after all, I adapt quickly, but I am still scared. It's gonna be hard to get used to my new life and it's gonna be hard to stop thinking as a sailor, but luckily, I will have the support from my wonderful soon to be husband and that will make the transition easier. How long is it gonna take me to ease back into civilian life and way of thinking? I don't know, but I am glad to be detached from an organization whose ideas and believes are no longer my own and an organization I no longer believe in.