Ranger Jeff
New Here
I entered the Army for two reasons. One was to prove to my father that I could become something other than what he had always told me I wouldn't be. The second was to escape a life in addiction and a life style in my early years that promised jail and eventually death.
Growing up I had the gift of having a next door neighbor that had been a prior Army drill sergeant that told me what to expect in basic once I arrived at Ft. Benning. I was at the top of my class all the way through basic and AIT and my drill's wanted me to go to OCS. I declined but mentioned that I would love to go to Jump and then Ranger School. Since all three of my drill cadre were Ranger qualified, they granted the request. I was starting to prove to others that I was harder than anyone thought, even to myself.
To speed up my story, I found myself in Central America on several occasions performing missions I thought I would never see. The past 20 years my life had molded the person who enlisted into the Army, after the first mission to C.A., that person ceased to live and the experience of pain, suffering, addiction, homicidal, suicidal, and near death experiences became my constant companion. For some reason not known to me until much later in life and in recovery was the question as to why I secretly photographed much of the carnage I CREATED. Upon discharge, I would often resort to viewing the images when my experiences invaded and consumed my spirt, then the viewings would settle the transformation and would allow for me to at least, regain a aspect of functioning again.
Panama happened so quickly that all I recall was the ride in, jumping out, spraying rounds everywhere at a enemy that for the most part, vanished. It was not until the Gulf War came to be that I suffered the worst of what combat, my actions, the aftermath, and what PTSD would have in store for me. Having a best friend shoulder to shoulder with me give his life as his head exploded and brain and skull fragments showered my face and body. A husband and father of 5 kids, why not me, I was single? Having to engage peoples not of my country as the language barrier prevented explanation. There went half a clip and lives. f*ck them I repeated over to myself hoping that my attitude would act as a prevent all from what my soul was telling me to be true. Fire orders????
Permission to engage???? NO, I was not leaving the Middle East in a box to be returned home to a family that didn't think I was worth a shit anyway. Engage, engage, engage, get home and return to normalcy.
THIS IS PART 1, PART 2 TO FOLLOW SOON
Growing up I had the gift of having a next door neighbor that had been a prior Army drill sergeant that told me what to expect in basic once I arrived at Ft. Benning. I was at the top of my class all the way through basic and AIT and my drill's wanted me to go to OCS. I declined but mentioned that I would love to go to Jump and then Ranger School. Since all three of my drill cadre were Ranger qualified, they granted the request. I was starting to prove to others that I was harder than anyone thought, even to myself.
To speed up my story, I found myself in Central America on several occasions performing missions I thought I would never see. The past 20 years my life had molded the person who enlisted into the Army, after the first mission to C.A., that person ceased to live and the experience of pain, suffering, addiction, homicidal, suicidal, and near death experiences became my constant companion. For some reason not known to me until much later in life and in recovery was the question as to why I secretly photographed much of the carnage I CREATED. Upon discharge, I would often resort to viewing the images when my experiences invaded and consumed my spirt, then the viewings would settle the transformation and would allow for me to at least, regain a aspect of functioning again.
Panama happened so quickly that all I recall was the ride in, jumping out, spraying rounds everywhere at a enemy that for the most part, vanished. It was not until the Gulf War came to be that I suffered the worst of what combat, my actions, the aftermath, and what PTSD would have in store for me. Having a best friend shoulder to shoulder with me give his life as his head exploded and brain and skull fragments showered my face and body. A husband and father of 5 kids, why not me, I was single? Having to engage peoples not of my country as the language barrier prevented explanation. There went half a clip and lives. f*ck them I repeated over to myself hoping that my attitude would act as a prevent all from what my soul was telling me to be true. Fire orders????
Permission to engage???? NO, I was not leaving the Middle East in a box to be returned home to a family that didn't think I was worth a shit anyway. Engage, engage, engage, get home and return to normalcy.
THIS IS PART 1, PART 2 TO FOLLOW SOON
