When I was in the Army, I was sooooo in love with this guy named ‘DJ’. DJ was the total opposite of me as far as when it came to his career in the military. He was Gung-Ho, and I was BLAH. Below is the moments before and shortly after DJ tells me that the Army did not choose to take him, as well as his undying commitment, to Iraq.
Instead, The Army Wanted My BLAH.
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In my loneliness, I ventured back to all the things that seemed to be of importance to me before our Company Commander announced that my unit, 664th Ordnance Company, was going to Iraq. My younger brother, JP, needed money for court next Tuesday, and I told him I could send it after I got paid tomorrow. My on & off again boyfriend, Dustin Jordan Mayo, or DJ, who was in the same unit as I was, desperately was attempting to get back in good after his not-so-ex girlfriend approached me in the bathroom at work. My mother skipped out on rehab again. These things all seemed like nothing to me now, and the four letter word, L-O-V-E, that used to take up a huge portion of my life decisions, was now trumped unexpectedly by this new four letter word spelled I-R-A-Q.
My phone rings for the eighteenth time. It’s DJ.
“What, DJ??” I answered with an attitude.
“Baby, before you hang up, please let me take you to dinner. I just would like to talk about things. Everything.”
The nerve of this guy. I hesitated, but opened my mouth to say “whatever, okay.” The caress of a man would be great for me right now to get my mind off things, even if they were from DJ. We hung up after confirming that I would see him in twenty minutes, which actually meant more like ten, since he was attempting to return to my good graces. I rolled over and grabbed a “just in case” condom from my nightstand and placed it in my purse before getting up to wash my tear-stained face. I was not about to be unprotected sexually with him, especially after being quite certain he was up to more than just me. I was not even about to be unprotected emotionally with him.
I undressed slowly in the mirror, and looked at each of my body parts with the curiosity of a robot who may have just been granted their wish to become human. Will I make it back with this arm? Will I still have this hand for someone to hold after I get home from war? Will I have hair? One leg? This shower routine will be the first of many to come to maintain my gratitude for life itself, continually taking inventory of my limbs and skin in the mirror to access any physical damage I may have endured. I hurriedly throw on my go-to outfit, my favorite form-fitting Levi’s and a solid white t-shirt with a mini pocket just above my right breast. My thick, long, black hair was always in a ponytail, by military standards, engraved into my lifestyle, so much that I almost never removed it. I glossed up my lips with Carmex, and awaited the man who was unknowingly on his journey to breaking my heart.
DJ was much older than I was, 27 to be exact, and we had met at a time when I was the new soldier in the unit, which basically means if you look better than a cactus, any Army man could be yours. He was somewhat known for ‘preying on the young soldiers’, unbeknownst to me at the time, and I had already heard rumors of him sleeping with an array of females that were in our unit. DJ had an advantage and an appeal to young soldiers like myself, because he operated professionally like a seasoned veteran, and had already earned himself a leadership position. I, myself, having only earned the rank of Private First Class, had absolutely no business professionally, dating anyone in a leadership position. The art of remaining mute about the potential to even consider dating one another became like second nature to us. DJ, or SGT Mayo, as many knew him as, even off-duty, pushed past all of the obstacles that I placed in front of him to date me, and ended up taking me to dinner after months of effort. He let me know that he loved my eyes, which were always a weakness for the opposite sex, and that he wanted to take me under his wing to get me into shape. He knew of my struggles as a poor runner, and he said that he could help me. I obliged. We have been on a roller coaster ride ever since. Rule number 1: Never sleep with your coach.
Knock, knock.
I answer the door to a man showing behavior that I was quite unfamiliar with. This man was holding flowers and gazed at me with such a sense of longing for me in his eyes. “DJ, what is all this?” I ask.
“They’re for you; I missed you.” DJ had the charm to pull me in, and say just what I needed to hear at the worst and best times. “U look good, T; really good. All those workouts are paying off, I see.”
“Whatever, DJ. Let’s go eat,” I say, while taking the beautiful sunflowers, and placing the vase on my nightstand. Smitty will have no problem figuring out just how these got here, I thought.
The short ride to our favorite spot was surprisingly not awkward at all. Coldplay was playing in the background, and DJ even reached for my hand to hold it, and I willingly placed mine into his. He was essentially the first man that I have grown to love. I never had too much of an example to know exactly how I was supposed to love him, but I reached my peak to understand just what love was with him. It wasn’t all bad. I thought of how we started our journey together. He always made jokes about how I did not have an excuse for not being able to run because I did not physically have too much weight holding me back. 5’7”, 130 pounds may not have seemed like a lot to him to hold up when I ran, but after nearing my one-mile marker, I was out of breath and barely able to meet my qualification time of completing 2 miles in 18:30 for a female soldier in my age group. DJ got me into shape and told me that I had everything I needed to complete my qualification run to stay enlisted in the Army, and jokingly told me time and time again that I was lazy. No one called me lazy and got away with it, especially not a cute guy who was challenging me with any type of date night that I desired if I maxed my qualification standard time. Of course, I did, and I was treated to a girl’s night out at the Houston Rodeo with Smitty and my other friend, Becca.
We pull into the restaurant and I suddenly feel my nerves start to kick in. I have no idea what we will talk about or how this conversation will begin. I had no need to worry about that because DJ went right into the pressing situation that was constantly disturbing my life at the moment. Shortly after we were seated, he says, “I’m not going to Iraq. They have me staying back to place orders to go into Theatre with you guys.”
I gasp. “Wait, what? How do you not have to go? Did you know that my platoon is going? They are sending all of us, and I do not know what I am going to do, DJ!” I burst into tears again, this time comforted by the man I loved and missed. DJ says, “I already knew that you were going to be freaking out, baby, and that’s why I needed to see you. At least one of us gets to stay back and take care of business
“—well you can stay back then!” I quickly interrupted. “You know, what, DJ? Fucking leadership sat and sat on this information for months, and now the decision has suddenly been cleared that we have to go to war? You know I am not built for this shit! You know I will not make it! People like me don’t go to war. People like me don’t fight! People like me—“
“—joined the Army, and are expected to do your fucking job!”
DJ interrupts abruptly. DJ bled Army-Green. He was the type of soldier to dedicate his very being, and his every move to being in the military. He did not have the family bond to keep him stateside; his son & daughter resided full-time with their mothers, while the remainder of his family lived in Philadelphia. By remainder, I meant his sister, and his parents. These were the only people he spoke of besides a favorite childhood friend. Whatever he had to do to excel to be noticed for promotion, it was done. No matter the person he had to step over or outshine, the model soldier was what DJ was. Not that his words did not resonate inside of me because they did, but DJ knew that my life inside this military revolved solely on finding the next legal way out to maintain an honorable discharge. He knew the type of soldier that I was; a rebel to be exact. I thought briefly, but those moments seemed to be as if I may have been thinking long and hard because so much ran through my mind after DJ made his last statement. The last thing that I wanted to do was piss DJ off as a Sergeant in the Army. As my on-again, off-again boyfriend, yes that was fine, but not as a leader in the Army. DJ was my insider to all of the talks and issues related to all the soldiers that NCO’s like himself were responsible for taking charge of. I knew first hand if one of my fellow comrades were getting orders to go to another duty station, or getting a name change because they secretly just got married to another soldier in the unit, or even if they came up positive on a random urinalysis. DJ was my insider to all the drama that unfolded on a daily basis inside the orderly room, which on some days was like the latest talk show. It was informational on an entire different level. I needed to stay on his good side to get me through this difficult time in my life. I needed all the information I could get right now, and this man was the only real way I could get it.
“I’m sorry, baby, but this is real life. Those terrorists over there are not playing. They have been letting this country know they mean business. 1st Cavalry is already over there doing their best with the help of the Marines, but they are having casualties. You have to focus, sweetheart. All the NCO’s just got called in last night to watch live footage from CNN of the live bombings from Baghdad. They placed us all in a dark tent with a projector screen in front of us, and over and over all we could see and hear were bombings and shit. Do you know some people in there were actually applauding the bombings? They are happy that they are leaving their wives and families to go over there to fight. I am not telling you to rejoice, but I really need you to wrap your head around what is happening, baby. Wrap your head around how your life is about to change. And how it is going to change forever.”
I am sobbing, reliving formation all over again. “I just don’t wanna go, DJ. I do not want to go with 664th Ordnance Company. You know they’re not ready,” I say.
“I know they’re not ready; a lot of units are not ready, but they need to send the manpower over there so we can keep fighting those motherfuckers! That’s why I constantly thought of you when I was watching those videos. They never will be ready, but you have to go. You will get dishonorably discharged if you do not, and that will ruin your entire adult life to come. You don’t want that, T.”
“No, I do not.”
By this time, my lip balm is gone, and my top lip is retaining sweat beads on top of it. The state of mental shock I am in is taking over my body. I just need to lie down.
“Can you just take me home, please,” I whispered. I tried to say it in a regular tone, but a whisper was all I could gather to come out. Suddenly, the oxtail entree that I frequently ordered from ‘A Taste of the Islands’ Jamaican restaurant, seemed to be so unappealing to me. I just wanted to go back to my room, and cry until my head hurt so bad, until I passed out.
“Sure, of course, I can, baby. Are you ready?” DJ stood up before me, and grabbed my food that I asked to be boxed up to carry out, then slowly helped me from my chair, while grabbing my hand. The ride home was just as quiet as the ride there, except this time, I felt safe with DJ just because I was able to be honest about my feelings. Everyone would assume they knew how I felt, and what I was going through concerning this situation, but besides Smitty, DJ was the only other person to actually understand my pain. After arriving back to the barracks, DJ, still holding my hand, asks, “You want me to walk you up?” This was a question that we both knew that if I said yes to it, walking back downstairs would not be an option for him until the following morning. “No, I’m good, DJ. I should go up and get some rest. Thanks for dinner.” Surprisingly, I leaned in to kiss him, and I made sure to make it good so he could see all that he was missing. “See you tomorrow, Sergeant Mayo. Good night.” Walking upstairs to my room, I thought, No need for condoms tonight, as I chuckled to myself. I was faintly proud of me as well. Damn, he went home. He really went home! Yes, you stayed strong!
Staying strong would not last for long as I thought about the days to come, and the months I had to face ahead. Smitty was still out, and all I had was time to contemplate on every passing thought inside my mind. I had to prepare to tell my family that I was going off to war, and it is a conversation that I have never even considered myself having at all.
Okay, let’s practice, I thought. I gathered myself up and went into the bathroom to stand in the mirror. After clearing my throat, I say, “Granny, how are you today? I am going to war.” Holy shit, that will not work. That will definitely send her to the ER. “Grandma Buck, I think we may be going to fight over there where they are blowing people up.” No, that’s not gonna work either. If I lie, or say what I think is going to happen, she will keep asking me questions until the truth comes out.
“Dammit, damn, damn, damn! Fuuuuuuck!”
I screamed out as I slid down onto my bathroom floor in a state of panic mixed with more exaggerated levels of shock. Helpless was how I felt, and hopeless was what I would be on my way to feeling in just a short time. I clenched my gut with my arms, as if to hug myself, and nothing seemed like nothing just yesterday. Today, at this moment, nothing seemed like everything. Breathing heavily, I closed my eyes to pray, but no words would come to my mind. Breathing heavily, I just stayed on the bathroom floor until my breath finally went back to normal. Looking across the room, I saw my takeout Jamaican food. I was still hungry because I never did eat. Walking over to it, I grabbed it and brought it back to the bathroom floor with me, and opened it up and started eating it, tears still streaming down my cheeks. The taste of the oxtails went unnoticed to me, for I was caught up in my own despair. I knew for a fact that something was definitely wrong with me for eating in my bathroom, on the floor. Maybe my bathroom was going to be my new office.
My phone rang, and I realized it would be DJ calling to tell me that he made it home, and also hoping that I would say I could not sleep so possibly driving to his place could be an option. Well, it would not be, because I simply would not be answering my phone anymore tonight.
Today I found out that I was going to war in Iraq.
That is enough to handle for one day.
