My Brother - My Hero Pt. II

When my brother was gifted his first G.I. Joe he became obsessed with the military. When he was in his early teens he would have basic training videos, and documentaries playing all of the time. Then he’d go out and try them himself. His DVD collection mainly consisted of military films. Any chance we had to visit the military surplus store in a town about an hour away we would. And one time he actually spent a week out in this field next to our house. "Preparing for basic training," he told me. He had a backpack, a twenty-two, a canteen of water, and some "light snacks" (which translated to beef jerky and Hershey's Cookies & Cream bars). By day four I had to threaten him with bodily harm if he didn't come inside to take a shower. It probably wasn't until he turned sixteen that the seriousness of it all really hit me. My brother was going to do this for real. He was going to join the military one day, and I wasn't really sure how to feel about it. 

Originally he wanted to join the Marines when he turned seventeen, but when he asked my parents to sign the paperwork my mother refused. Though now she denies that ever happened. Then when he was a few years older he tried again. However, they refused him on the grounds that he had a homeschool diploma. A few months later he tried again, but he had been flagged in their system. That's when he decided to try the Army, but he ended up being denied due to some of the previous issues he encountered with the Marines. So, after that last denial he decided it was time to put this dream away. He had tried. He wanted to serve his country, but they wouldn't have him. On with life we must go, you know? I won't lie, and say that I wasn't a tiny bit relieved. It's scary to think of your loved one wanting a job that requires them to be gone for months at a time. To be deployed to a country that they could very well die in. And even though it sucked some major balls that he couldn't serve I felt like I could breathe a little easier. But not seeing that little spark in his eyes, when he'd talk about the military, anymore made me feel horrible about my own relief. It left me feeling really sad for him, and I couldn't help but dwell on the unfairness of it all. 

So, back in March when I got a call from my brother I was really surprised when he told me the news. "Hey, so I joined the Army. I need my social to retake a test next week can you meet me with it? I passed this test today with flying colors they said, and the next one is a formality to make sure I didn't cheat or have help. But I'm in! I'll be off to basic in a few weeks." And everything stopped. I whooped, and hollered. Had he been standing in front of me I would have tackled him. I was so damn proud, y'all! It wasn't until I got off of the phone that I realized, "Oh, shit. He's going to be a soldier." Now maybe it's age, the fact that we've grown so much over the years, but the fear didn't grab a hold as it once had. Yes, it was still scary. But what in life isn't? If this is what my baby brother wanted then I was behind him 110%. I didn't have any doubts that he'd get through this at the top of his class. That he'd kick ass, and take names. Because he lived for this. He thrived on it. This is what gave him the feeling of purpose. And I’d be damned if anyone tried to take away the excitement I could clearly hear in his voice. So, over the course of the next few weeks we took turns visiting. One weekend we’d all go up there, and the next they’d come to see us. We all spent a lot of time together because we weren’t sure when we’d see him again. The majority of us were happy because my brother was happy. My mother, unfortunately, was a different story. I can't fault her for it. He is her only son, and the baby. But well into the second week of him being away we had to have a little conversation. It took her awhile, but she eventually accepted that this was happening. This was the future he wanted.

Which brings us to April 22nd. This was the day my brother was sent out to Fort Benning to start basic training. And when I say that the military is slow as fuck, multiply that by ten. I get that they're in basic training, and technically the Army doesn't have to allow them to contact home at all. But since they do give them certain privileges you'd think that they'd be a bit more efficient. But nooooo. So, we waited. And waited. When we finally heard some news it consisted of a twenty second phone call, and then it was radio silence again. We weren't sure if we could write, or not. If you’re familiar with basic training then you know that sometimes the guys get smoked, or have extra work attached to their already tiresome day as "punishment" when they’re sent stuff from home before it’s allowed. We didn't want to be the cause of that so we didn’t have much choice but to wait. However, this didn’t keep me from searching all over the internet for information. I found the Facebook pages, and the military pages. I downloaded PDF samples of their schedule, and estimated where I thought he was at in training. I downloaded Sandboxx, which is pricey, but also worth it, in order to send him a letter to check on him. And then, on the weekend before my nephew’s first birthday I was stuck in traffic trying to make my way up to visit my sister-in-law for a girls weekend when my mother called. “Carlos got hurt. It’s his leg. He may not be able to continue.” I held my breath -- 1…2…3… 

This was the worst news. After quizzing my mom over the phone the only information I had was that they had been out in the field, and another soldier accidentally caused the injury. My brother was at a hospital, and my sister-in-law would be able to tell me more once I got there. Of course I thought it was a broken leg at the worst, or a sprain at the best. He’d walk this off, and be back at it in no time. He would be okay. Now, remember what I said about the military being slow? Yea, they work just as slow in giving answers about injuries. The silver lining was that my brother was able to call home every day while at the hospital. It wasn’t until a week later that my sister-in-law was able to tell us that his initial injury would heal, and would not be the cause of a medical discharge. But they had found something else in his x-rays that the doctor’s found troubling. This something else turned out to be an issue with his knee cap, and cartilage. It wasn’t causing any issues at the moment, but there was a problem. And they weren’t sure if my brother would be able to serve three years without causing his knee even more damage or having to have surgery. His recovery could potentially take up to a year, if not more, which would not benefit the Army whatsoever. Since that conversation we’ve been told that regardless, surgery will be in his future, it’s just not known when. Could be a few months, or could be years. So, his commanders had to have meetings. His doctor’s had to have meetings. He had to talk to several people over the course of several days in regards to his options. And then last week Kim called to let me know that after the board meeting my brother was told that he would be getting discharged. Chapter 5-11. It could take up to two months before he was sent home though. I held my breath -- 1… 2... 3... 

I was lucky enough to talk to my brother several times during this whole process. And while he was laying in a hospital bed with a leg that refused to cooperate with him I asked about how training had been going. He told us stories about the other soldiers, and his sergeants. He talked to us about some funny moments, and being made fun of for his dinosaur of a cell phone. He told me about the early morning exercises, and obstacles. How they had switched him up to Mortar Company which was a promotion due to how well he was doing. He was two days shy of completing the navigation phase, and there was talks of him being platoon leader material. He let out a sigh, “It’s been fun. Basic isn’t as bad as others make it out to be. I like the other guys. I like the drill sergeants. I’m having a great time here.” The following weekend, just days before he was given the final decision, he told me that he was okay with whatever the outcome came to be. “If they decide I’m worth keeping then I’m going to finish this, and give them my all. But if they decide I’m too much of a liability, well then, I’m just happy to have been given the opportunity to try. I’m proud to have made it this far.” All weekend I was hoping for a Hail Mary. I was hoping that he could be re-classed. Or that he’d be able to come home, fix the issue, and then try again. That last one might be a possibility depending on what RE code gets stamped on his file, but it could take awhile. And by then he might have already aged out. Or he might not want to go through the process of applying for the waivers needed? I’ve read that it can be a son of a bitch. Or life could get in the way? Or he and his wife may come to the conclusion that the military life is not something they can handle as they’re getting older? And as my nephew gets older too. Maybe my brother sees this as the final sign that he should shelve the dream for good? Or time may not be his friend in the end? 

So, today I’m a little heartbroken. I’m sad for my brother. Probably more so than he is because I can tell he’s taking this all in stride. “Whatever happens, happens. I’m not worried about it.” I’m just really upset that one of his dreams was within reach, and it all came crashing down due to an accident. The plus side is that we now know there’s an issue so I’m grateful for that. Still, I would have loved to see him graduate in August. I would have loved to see my baby brother stand up with the rest of his unit, serving heart on full display, and finally getting to do what he’s always wanted. I was more than willing to drop everything on my weekends to make sure his family was taken care of while he was away. So my sister-in-law wouldn’t be alone. I would have written him five letters a week the entire time he was away. I had actually already started. And I would have gladly been there to lend my support in anyway that he needed. I know this sounds a little "doom 'n' gloom" right now, and I’m focusing more on the negative. I know, y’all. It just really sucks! I really wanted this for him. He would have been amazing at it. But don't worry, I am taking stock in the good too. I just needed to let these frustrations out. I know that the most important thing right now is that he’s okay. That this issue was caught early. That he’s coming home. Though that’s a long ass process on it’s own. And whatever he decides to go after next I can only hope that I’ll be here to cheer him on from the sidelines. And no matter what, Carlos, you’ll always be my hero. I love you, you long legged freak of nature. Here’s to the next adventure!