As three of us lay on our sides in the same small bunk, reality kicked in. Or at least what felt like reality. None of us would be seeing our own comfortable beds any time soon.
"Hey, wouldn't it be funny if drill sergeant Nagal walked in?" My battle buddy asked in a joking matter. Which made it all the more impossible to believe when:
"AT EASE!"... and over the top bunk of the next bed, we see Nagal's DS hat. We quickly scrambled and fell over each other trying to get up, seeing as that bunk was up against a wall, it was a little difficult.
Nagal decided to keep quiet, although the odd glance our way was not missed by anyone. He decided later on, to point out things that just weren't right. For example: grown men in uniform having pillow fights, people sneaking out of windows and breaking ankles just to smoke a cigarette, and three females all in the same bunk... just not the right thing to do, soldiers.
He looked over at me and shook his head, as if he expected better. I was, and am still, the quiet one. In every aspect of my life; home, work, social.. So it came as a shock when I finally opened my mouth one day and asked to speak to the Sergeant Major.
"Sergeant Major, I've officially broken a record. I've been stuck in basic training hell for a year. I understand that I'm injured, but I've been shifted back to companies, and then back to being a med-hold, for longer than anyone else. I want the surgery so i can finish what was supposed to be 9 weeks of training. Or I want out."
And so began months of physical therapy, followed by more months of the medical discharge process. -.-
