This last memorial day I took part in a Memorial Day parade and memorial ceremony in a little town called Millbrook, NY. I along with Stefan Ralph (who is another contributor to The Sandbox book), both were invited here by the VFW and the owner of Merritt’s Bookstore to participate in the parade and conduct a book-signing of The Sandbox. Millbrook is small town that embodies everything I think Norman Rockwell would think of when he was painting. The main street is shrouded in huge trees on both sides that provide a ceiling for the street. Small shops and businesses flank both sides of the street. At the end of the street is a huge park built on soft, rolling hills that has several memorials in it for the Veteran’s of this country. The park, called Tribute Garden is the centerpiece of the town as well it should be. It is truly something to be proud of. It was built after WWI as a tribute to all that fell in that war and the monument to WWI veterans is the centerpiece of the park.

The parade was nice as Stefan and I walked in the lead with the local VFW members. At the end of the parade, we marched up into the park where an entire high school band was seated. There the band played the National Anthem, God Bless America and other songs. They had a local High School student sing the National Anthem and the Valedictorian read the poem “In Flanders Field”. The local NY Assemblymen spoke who was an amazingly young looking guy. Of course I found out why when they read his bio and it was explained that he was elected to his first office at the age of 18 and at the age of 19 became the youngest mayor ever. He was a sharp guy who gave a very good speech about what this Memorial Day meant to him and all in this country. I wish I had some time to talk to him one on one as he was very impressive. The VFW also did a 3 gun salute while Taps was played by a trumpet player from the High School band. It was all of these things that made the ceremony so pleasant and made me glad that we did the six hour drive across the state to take part in this.

As I stood there during all of the ceremony at the park, looking out at hundreds of perfect strangers, but patriotic Americans I just kind of imagined how many ceremonies were happening like this all over the country at about the same time. There were probably more happening than I could even imagine or guess. For those few moments I felt like I was in the heart of America. To me, this is what America is all about and even more importantly this is what Memorial Day is all about. Hundreds of people took time out of their day, got the kids ready, brought them to the main street and then walked them up to the park to stand in reverence as they watched a ceremony in remembrance. Some probably had family present or past that were in the military, some probably didn’t know anyone in the military. However they all came out, and they didn’t come for a raffle, or rides, or fireworks. They came to watch some old vets, some new vets, and their political leaders pay tribute to all the great Americans who gave up their life in defense and honor of this country. I was glad to see so many people be willing to give up their time, their busy schedules, etc. to honor those that gave up so much more.

After the ceremony was over, Stefan and I walked down the bookstore and conducted the book-signing. There was not a huge turnout, but the people we met were really nice and truly appreciative of us being there. We spent a lot of time talking to them, answering questions and of course signing books. David then introduced both Stefan and I. We said a few words about blogging or about our deployment and then we both read a story from the book. Since Owen (Roy Batty) could not make it, David read one of his entries and then David asked me to read one of Ben’s as Ben also had to cancel at the last minute. Since Ben and I were on the same team together I was honored to read one of my favorite stories of his called Decency and Honor.

It was a long weekend, but something I was glad I did and worth every minute of it. I was able to see many old friends and meet many new ones. My wife and I both agreed that we could easily move to the Millbrook/Amenia area and really enjoy it. It is too bad there is not a nice sized airport close by, as that would be all that I need in order to do my work. The trip was outside of our norm, but that is ok because sometimes that is what you just need to do…get outside of the norm.

With all the hype about Berkeley and the many efforts to block their stupidity, I thought about an essay that I read once called “Sheep, Wolves, & Sheepdogs”. It’s a poignant essay that people like the Berkeley City Council and others can’t afford NOT to read.

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The following real-world story was relayed to me by my very good friend, RN Clara Hart who works with wounded warriors every day. What I love about this story is that she can highlight not only the pains and challenges that those wounded on the battlefield have to go through, but she can also show through her writing what I have known for years, and that is the American fighting man and woman can find humor in the worst of times. The ABSOLUTE WORST of times.

“Will you PLEASE stop kicking me!!” I harped at the soldier standing next to me. “I’m going to report you for nurse abuse if you don’t!” I sharply chided him. He simply stood there and with a look of “who me?” on his face responded, “they’d never believe you, they’d take one look at me and cart YOU off”. “Yeah, you’re right” I said, “but, really now, QUIT KICKING ME!” then giving up, shared a laugh with this particular man. A bilateral leg amputee, he was kicking me with his prosthetic legs and having quite a jolly time. In frustration I kicked him back, which only served to make him laugh harder and tell me “that didn’t hurt a bit”.

Although it is almost impossible, try and place yourself in his position. Can you even begin to imagine how living with pain every minute of every hour of every day would affect you? What kind of life you would have?

People always make comments like “I wish there were something I could do”. If you are truly serious in wanting to help I have a suggestion. Currently there is legislation proposed to give our OIF/OEF veterans better resources, benefits and assistance when it comes to pain and it’s impact on their lives. You can learn about this by going to the American Pain Foundation’s website www.painfoundation.org and clicking on Military/Veterans and Pain button on the right side. I urge you to go to this site and review everything on these pages. Here you will find plenty of ways to assist our wounded warriors. Only when we understand better and take the initiative to make our voices heard will change come about. They need your help and here is your way! Clara, I, and all wounded warriors challenge you, don’t let them down!

I just happen to be a blogger. I’ve had a lot of opportunities open up to me because of the people I’ve met through the internet and because of my writing, but I don’t think that means I’m anything better or worse than anyone else. I serve in the military, something ANYONE can do. However, not just anyone can raise kids, build a house, pave a road, deal with customers over a phone all day, serve food to picky eaters, or clean up after us after every movie.

I didn’t start blogging because I want to be a famous celebrity. I didn’t start blogging so that I could get freebies or discounts. Heck, I got those way before I started writing. I just ask, “do you have a military discount?” I would like to take a little time and reintroduce myself and my motivations for writing because there are some people (who will remain nameless, but are probably reading this) who think that I write for selfish reasons.

I began blogging back in 2004 because I got frustrated with our stories, the Soldiers’ stories, being ignored. I started a little blog called “Chcknhawk’s Harem” over at Blogspot. I called it that because most of my fans were female troops supporters and I thought it was a funny play on words. I began my blog as largely a humorous way of getting through some of the things I was facing after returning from combat. Writing made me feel better. I didn’t feel like there were a lot of people I could talk to, including my own family. But, I’m also grounded enough to know that I’d go crazy if I kept it all in.

Blogging was my way of “talking to somebody without talking to anyone at all“. There were people out there listening, but I wasn’t talking directly to them. By writing about my experiences, I was able to revisit them and deal with them in a positive manner. In 2005, I published my war journal to mark the second anniversary of when I was notified I was going into battle. We were no longer training to the “what if”; we were training for war.

However, there is a lot that I never wrote in my journal because I knew that it would be read by others one day. There are some things I still don’t like to deal with. I’ve slowly found ways to deal with those areas as well. For example, losing friends. I started They Have Names because of a specific person, CPT James “Alex” Funkhouser, but he was just the catalyst that brought together the various reactants of losing friends and feeling like no one else cared about it. The hardest one to accept has been the loss of SSG Stevon Booker, a friend and fellow Tusker who was killed during the first Thunder Run into Baghdad on 5 April 2003. He was a combat proven veteran of Operation Desert Storm in the early nineties and knew his stuff. He cared deeply for his Soldiers and died trying to protect them. But, you won’t find Booker’s story on THN yet. I still can’t write it, but one day I will. Earlier this year a building at Aberdeen Test Center was renamed after his memory. I write so that people don’t forget people like Booker. And I still write

Anyone who knows me knows that I care deeply about Soldiers. I care deeply about Marines, Airmen and Sailors too (collectively known as Soldiers from here on). It frustrates me beyond belief that their sacrifices are becoming so taken for granted. Their stories are not being told and I feel that by telling these stories I’m taking care of them. Naturally, I take care of the troops directly under my supervision and care as well. This war is about the Soldier. There is a reason that Marine General Peter Pace, retiring Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, spoke predominantly about the Soldier during his farewell speech. Look at the people paying the highest price in this war and you’ll see the names of Soldiers, peppered with NCOs and Officers here and there. Someone needs to tell their story and I feel like I need to be that person.

There are plenty of stories that are “sexy” or “newsworthy” and deal with death, destruction, blunders and botched decisions. There are also plenty of people willing to expose them and ensure they are known as far and wide as possible. But, who is there to tell the Soldiers’ stories? Unfortunately, it falls to a band of devoted military bloggers who make it their goal in life to get out the good news - and there’s plenty of it!!

I get nothing out of blogging. What little pittance of money I make of my writing goes to pay for bigger, better things (pay close attention to ASP in the near future) to help tell the story. It goes to paying for postage of care packages to troops who are away from the flagpole. It goes to organizations like Soldier’s Angels, Adopt-A-Platoon, and Wounded Warriors Project. ASP has donated more than $35,000 over the past four years to various causes, including the Camp Lejuene Ballerinas. And to be honest, I don’t care if anyone ever knows we do it. I’m sure the dollar amount will surprise even our diehard readers because I don’t advertise it. I don’t write for recognition and I don’t write to eventually meet the President. We could have used that money to pay off our bills, that’s for sure.

I’ve put a lot on the line to write. I’ve stunted my military career in ways by narrowing the types of jobs I’m qualified for. I’ve annoyed and pissed off senior military commanders and supervisors, though I’ve never tried to hide anything. I’ve taken away valuable time from my family! This is something I feel strongly about and as long as I’m able, I’m going to continue writing. If no one ever reads another word I write, I wouldn’t care. It’s therapy.

Hopefully, I’ve made some sense here and some people’s eyes were opened. To those people I say: you don’t have to like it or agree with it - just accept it. I’m nothing special.

The following Blog entry is written by 1SG Troy Steward

A while back I wrote a Blog entry for this site as part of the “Why I Serve” series. Now that I am a little over a month since my 20 year Anniversary in the Army I am going to write this one as a follow up as to why I am staying the Army past the minimum point of retirement eligibility.

I knew before I left for Afghanistan last year that I would be facing the decision of whether I would stay in or retire this year. Before I left and during my entire deployment friends, family, co-workers in my civilian job and fellow soldiers that served with me would all ask me whether or not I would retire when I got back stateside. I knew that making that decision prior to, or during my deployment would have the potential of not being a well thought our decision as I may allow the current events sway which was I would lean on retirement. Rather than flip-flop back and forth like a politician I figured it would be best to just wait and get home for a little while before I made that decision. When people would ask me what it would take for me to decide, I would simply tell them that it all depended on conversations between my wife and I, how my unit treated me after I returned and how I generally felt about the military after a 1 year deployment to war.

The support my wife gives me is unprecedented and I could not ask for any more than she already gives. She loves me being in the military and she loves being a military spouse. She knows I love being a soldier and she wants to support me in whatever I love, even if that were to mean another deployment. My Brigade has been great and has given me exactly what I was looking for as far as a new assignment. I am going into my 5th year as a diamond-holding 1SG and am about to take over a new company while I wait on a E9 slot to open up. I am staying with the Infantry and the drive is not that bad from where I live now to the new armory. As for how I feel about the military, well I love it of course. That does not mean I support every decision that is made or agree with the leadership all the time. I mean I love my wife too, but we don’t always agree. I love being a soldier and I love training and working with soldiers. I think that is one of the biggest reasons I have decided to stay in for now. I have had a huge void in my life since returning stateside and not being with the guys on my team that I spent the last year with. What I knew as my entire life 24/7 was sucked away from me the day I left Active Duty and went back into my normal National Guard drill status. I miss running for the truck, slamming down red bulls at the same time I am slamming forward the bold on a .50 Cal Machine Gun and of course living life on the edge. It is hard enough not being with my team every day, much less just trying to walk away from the Army cold-turkey.

So for now, I am going to still be pulling on the desert boots, ACUs, and Beret or PC and playing soldier for some unforeseen amount of time. I am not sure if this country needs me, my state needs me or if the Army as a whole does, but I know I need my soldiers and they need me.

**NOTE, Troy is a 1SG in the New York Army National Guard and writes several blogs on his website at http://www.bouhammer.com**

While this is admittedly geared towards our male troops serving in the U.S. Armed Forces, we thought we’d bring together pictures of some of the best looking women to ever take the time to entertain the troops through the USO program. Bob Hope ain’t got nothing on these ladies:

Jessica Simpson



Brittany Murphy


Marlene Dietrich

Alyssa Milano

Dinah Shore

Marilyn Monroe


The Dallas Cowboys Cheerleaders

Thanks to all that serve this country proudly!

[This is the next installment of our “Why We Serve” series. The post is from Troy who writes the Bouhammer’s Afghanistan Blog.]

The reason why I serve has changed several times over the last 19+ years I have been in the Army. Actually my career probably started long before I ever raised my hand for the first time. It probably started on the day I was born in 1969. I was born at Ft. Bragg to the father who was a Green Beret at the time, home on leave from one of his multiple tours in Vietnam, for my birth. This was the life I was raised in my whole life, Ft. Bragg NC, Ft. Devens MA, Presidio CA, Panama, and then to Mesa AZ where my dad finished up his career being an ROTC instructor at ASU.

Growing up I could not stand the military, in fact I hated it with a passion. Why was my dad so strict? Why was I restricted, while other kids were “grounded”? I remember having to explain the term restricted, because non-military types had never used that term. I grew up hearing “I am the SGT, you are the private so you will do what I say”. A Special Forces house is a tough one to be raised in, but I am so glad that I was. Not that I wasn’t a trouble-maker or got out of line, but it was rare and when I did I knew the dire consequences. Somewhere along the way I became very independent and wanted to do everything myself. I know now it was because I did not want stuff held over me. It was this resentment towards my Dad’s child-raising style that led me to the same career that I hated while growing up. Once I matured up in high-school and realized all the things he had done in his career I got a lot closer to him. I was a photographer growing up and in high-school he converted a room in our house to a dark room for me. As I reprinted a lot of photos for him from negatives he had left over from his tours in Vietnam I think I realized that was the life I wanted. When I saw him and a few green beenies standing around a group of Laotians or some other local people, I think this is what planted the seed.

I did not want to place the burden of higher education on my parents, as they could not afford a lot or at least the schools I wanted. I wanted to be a photo-journalist and wanted to attend some pretty nice schools. The Army was the answer, and it had been the whole time. I could do a 3 year stint, pick up some nice college money and then get out and go to school where I wanted to. I wanted to be a freelance photo-journalist so I figured the Army experience and training would be a benefit. So I came home one day my junior year, sat my parents down and told them I was joining, what I wanted to do and what I would get for it. I don’t remember my parents’ expression or comments, but I am sure it was one of surprise. Many of my friends thought my Dad pushed me that way, but I was always happy to tell them, no I made this decision on my own. I could have been a lot of things in the Army based on my ASVAB scores, but I wanted to be a grunt. I wanted to jump out of planes, like I grew up watching my Dad do, and I wanted to be infantry. I remember the recruiters trying to push me into more technical specialties, but I would not budge…Infantry or nothing.

So I joined, did my 3 years and then ended up re-enlisting while I was in Korea. The dreams and thoughts of a life as a photo-journalist had pretty much vanished. I was very good at what I did in the Army and I really liked it. I grew up bouncing from place to place as Dad was transferred, so it was not a new concept for me. I loved leading soldiers and training them too. I was on the fast-track and moved very fast in rank. I gave 110% at everything I did, and always shot to be #1. This is evident by the number of military schools I graduated as Honor Graduate or Distinguished Honor Graduate. I lived by the mantra of “either you are first place or you are last”, there was no in-between.

After I got back from the first Gulf War, I had seen enough, or so I thought. I had moved so fast through the ranks and had worked at positions so far above what I was supposed to that I was not challenged anymore. I was starting to get bored. I was losing the spark that made me love the Army. Not long after returning from the Gulf, I was married to the light of my life and spending time raising a family and not deploying anymore was starting to be more attractive. However after only a few months of being married, I got the orders to PCS to Alaska. Since my wife was raised in Florida her whole life, this was a big decision. We decided, lets try it. We would probably never get up there again and here was a chance to see some awesome country and make it more of a 3 year vacation.

This duty assignment was a challenge and re-lit the fire on why I loved the Army. I was back on jump status, and I got to work in a variety of assignments. I established a good reputation in the battalion with everyone and had a lot of pull. I was even able to swing a 1 year extension in Alaska thanks to by BC going to bat for me. However, at the end of 4 years there I was starting to get burned out again. I also went from having the best 1SG I had ever had in my career to having the worst I had ever had. The last 1SG I had was the worst example of leadership and what it means to be an NCO, and quite frankly he burned me out. I was not alone, as many NCOs called it quits after working for him and just up and left the Army. I had been working with computers for the last couple of years and had a real interest in doing that full-time. I found myself fixing a lot of them at the BN HQ and it was my BC at the time that encouraged me to get out and do that full time. He said I had a talent there and he could see I was passionate about it. So I decided to end my time with the Active Army, but not with the military. I loved soldiers, working with them and the military life in general. I was just burned out of doing it every single day. So I joined a NG unit and stayed on jump status. This was a nice transition since it was not the stereo-typical NG unit and kept higher standards which offset the slow-down in optempo.

I ended up moving to NY and joining the NG there. I served in several positions, but always in charge of soldiers. This is the passion I have and I why I still serve today. These are my boys and there is nothing I would not do for them. NG soldiers are some of the most motivated I have ever seen and they bring a unique set of challenges to dealing with them that is not existent in active duty soldiers. When I stand in front of my company and look at those faces I see the faces of my sons. In fact my own son serves in my unit, but when I see those 100+ faces staring back at me, regardless of age, race, or anything else, I see the boys that I have been entrusted to look over. I use the leaders that I looked up to as the guides and examples of how I deal with soldiers. I also look at the terrible leaders I have had as an example of how not to act.

I remember thinking in the rental car racing back from Boston to Buffalo on 9/12/01 that I was very happy that I was still serving. Little did I know that the days of 9/11 would transform the NG overnight into an optempo that resembled being back on Active Duty.

Currently I am the team 1SG of an Embedded Training Team serving in Afghanistan, which advises, mentors and fights alongside the Afghanistan National Army. Even though my team is small and all senior ranking officers and NCOs, they are still my soldiers. Many are older than me and they all have years of experience, but I am their 1SG and it is my job to look out after them, their welfare, safety and training. The Team Chief and I have made it our sole mission to bring all these guys back alive. Regardless of what happens over here and what good we do with the ANA, as long as we bring these boys back then this mission will have been a success.

I am not sure how much longer I will serve after this tour, as my 20 year date is coming up in a few months. I may call it quits and turn the reins over to someone else or maybe hang around a little while longer. Either way, it has been a good ride and something I will never regret. I have been blessed with a great up-bringing, great family, lovely wife and kids, awesome friends all over the world and some of the best damn soldiers I could have ever served with. Regardless of what path I take after this tour is over, my military career has been a fruitful and successful one as far as I am concerned. I cannot imagine what my life would have been like without out, except to know it would not have been as fulfilling.

I have spent a good deal of time over the last four and a half years attempting to explain why I serve. That is a question I am asked all too frequently, and I have never come up with an answer I feel adequately explains my service.

There isn’t a huge history of military service in my family. A couple of uncles by marriage have served, but the last relative related by blood to serve was my great-grandfather. This was a fact unknown to me until he passed away in late 2001. I had already entered the Delayed Entry Program, but Grandpa’s mind had already failed him. I saw the tri-folded flag on a stand next to his open coffin and felt a connectedness I had never felt with him before. We weren’t very close through most of my life, but I felt as close to him in that single moment as I fell with my father and grandfather. Even that connection doesn’t come close enough to explain why I serve.

I am one of the younger voices in the MilBlog community. I joined the Marine Corps in the months just after September 11th. I vividly remember the images of that day, and the uncertainty on every face in my high school. My classmates and I had visions of graduation and college already in our minds, and nothing could take our focus from the end of our high school career until that day. I saw tears running down the faces of people I’d known for the majority of my life. Never did I think I would see them openly weep. I saw rage in the eyes of some of the calmest minds. Never did I think such anger could come from their heart. Never did I think I would take a stand to protect all of them and the American way of life.

I serve so that something like September 11th doesn’t have to happen to any nation ever again. I pray that sacrificing any plans I made as a high school senior will keep even one innocent American from falling to terrorism. I pray that I can help make a difference in this world now to bring about a hope of defeating radicals. Most importantly, I hope that I can one-day give a better world to my daughter so that she and her family can live the American Dream.

[Continuing on with the “Why We Serve” series is Doug from Afghanistan Without a Clue. This is an excellent post and you can get updates from his experience in Afghanistan from daily updates on his blog.]

My path to military service and my current assignment in Afghanistan is rather unusual, but it just shows that those of us defending our country are as different and unique as the general populous. When I was growing up, joining the military did not seem so far-fetched. My father was an Air Force officer, and I was a huge military buff most of my childhood through high school and college. I studied World War II, built models from the period, and memorized all sorts of military trivia.

Yet, soon after I graduated from college (with a degree in English Education) I became a high school teacher. I also got married, and after four years of teaching, I was tired of poverty. I had a wife and two kids to take care of, but there isn’t much you can do with an English degree other than teach. But I did discover that you could join the military and go to Officer Training School with any degree, assuming you scored high on their tests and were selected by their board.

My wife Jancy was an Army brat, and of course I was an Air Force brat, so we both knew how tough a military life could be on the kids, as they switched schools over and over again. We weren’t keen on going back, but we weren’t keen on being poor either, so I took the plunge and joined. I have never regretted it.

The Air Force has indeed been a tough life. After our last move a couple of years ago, we both never wanted to move again. But we’ve had the pleasure of living in Germany, as well as many places in the US, and I’ve been fortunate to have a series of fascinating jobs. The pay is pretty good too, and after twenty years, you can retire and get half of your basic pay for the rest of your life. Not too shabby.

So far I sound more like a mercenary than a patriot, but economics does lead many people into the military. However, it isn’t mere money that keeps people serving year after year. Since being deployed to Afghanistan for eight months so far, with four to go, I have changed quite a bit.

It all started about a year ago. The Air Force was going to be filling Army positions in both Iraq and Afghanistan. That meant that not only would we be deployed for a year, we would have to go to Army Combat Skills Training first. We would be wearing body armor, carrying weapons, and going into harm’s way. You can’t imagine how shocking this was to us in the Air Force. We didn’t do that sort of thing. We did our fighting from airplanes, and those who didn’t fly were stationed well behind enemy lines at air bases. Now we were being thrown into the Army. Yikes! This was scary. I was certainly afraid. In fact, my current boss, Maj Apple, is filling a slot that was turned down by six previous majors. By that I mean they decided to get out of the Air Force rather than do this job. These are guys with 12-15 years of service, and they got out. I don’t say this to insult them, just to show how frightening it was.

I had almost 18 years in when I got tagged, and for me it was an easy decision. Even though I was 44 years old, I’d take whatever the Army was going to throw at me. I wasn’t real excited about it, but I was going to stick it out. I’m glad I did, and not just because I’ll get my retirement pay either.
Arriving in Afghanistan was like going to another planet. You can check out my blog for daily descriptions of the culture shock I experienced as I tried to adapt. But I have learned so much here, made good Afghan friends, overcome my fears, and generally become a better person (at least in my humble opinion). I’ve also come to more fully appreciate how precious our freedoms are, and how vigilant we must be to protect them.

Afghanistan is an Islamic Republic, which means the laws are based on the Qu’ran. If any Muslim leaves the faith, they can be executed. Anyone who admits to being a homosexual will probably be killed by their own family, but if they survive that, they will certainly be arrested and probably executed by the state. Trying to convert someone to any other religion will either get you deported, jailed, or executed. Many women are still treated more like property than like human beings. It was even worse under the Taliban, and it’s pretty bad now. It is people with this mindset that we are fighting, and they aren’t going to go away.

We often talk with our interpreters, or the Afghan soldiers we work with, and try to explain things like freedom of religion or equality of the sexes, and I think while they understand the words, they don’t really understand the concepts. But they do understand that we are one of the wealthiest nations in the world, and Afghanistan is one of the poorest.

Virtually everyone here would move to the US in a second, given the chance.

With all our problems, America is a fantastic place. Our freedoms and prosperity offend the Islamists that seek to destroy us. We have a long way to go before we dare relax. If they ever get a nuclear weapon, they will not hesitate to use it. Do not be deceived; they hate us that much. I’ve seen first-hand how much the Taliban hate their own people.

I’ve rambled a bit, but now to the crux of the matter. I now serve with a new sense of pride that I am contributing in a small way to the protection of our country and the rebuilding of another. I have no desire to die here, and I hope to return in one piece and enjoy my retirement. But for these last two years in the Air Force I am part of something important and essential. I will have amazing stories to tell, and I have been changed for the better. As I say to my men as we drive around Kabul, It’s hard to believe we get paid to do this.

[The next guest blogger up in our “Why We Serve” series is none other than Sgt Hook. Sgt Hook will be attending the MilBlogging Conference in Washington DC and will be providing updates and reports about the conference on this blog, so be sure to check them out on the days surrounding May 5. We are sure you will enjoy his post in the “Why We Serve” series.]

I was born the son of a United States Coast Guardsman. His father an immigrant from Scotland who at age 14 arrived to Ellis Island and quickly went from the coal mines of Pennsylvania to the halls of a big city newspaper in Connecticut. He left Scotland after losing his father to the war, a proud warrior in the famed Scottish Black Watch Regiment.

My dad, my hero, the commander served some 28 plus years in the uniform of the United States Coast Guard first as an enlisted man, and later as an officer before retiring. As I moved towards maturity and my high school graduation, he tried to talk me into joining the service, any branch thereof, but at 18 years of age, having moved every three years while growing up, I wanted nothing more to do with military life.

Four years later, after dropping out of university and bouncing around from bartending job to bartending job, I joined the Army. I think it is important to note that why I joined is a bit different from why I serve. When I sat down with the recruiter, I was looking to put some direction into my life after leaving school and was very concerned with making enough money to pay on my student loans. I was adamant though in that I wanted a job that offered training in aviation so that I could use those skills as a civilian someday down the road.

Admittedly, patriotism and a sense of serving my nation were not upper most in my mind as I entered the Military Entrance Processing Station (MEPS); food, shelter, and bills most certainly were. I do think, however, that a sense of duty contributed to my decision in joining the Army (and not the Coast Guard is a post in itself). I say that because though I quite deftly negotiated for an aviation job with the Army counselor charged with drawing up my contract, the moment I stood flanked by our national colors with my right hand raised and swore an oath to defend the Constitution against all enemies, I felt my heart swell and I can sincerely say that it has not shrunk since, in almost 20 years.

“I, Sgt Hook, do solemnly swear that I will support and defend the Constitution of the United States against all enemies, foreign and domestic; that I will bear true faith and allegiance to the same; and that I will obey the orders of the President of the United States and the orders of the officers appointed over me, according to regulations and the Uniform Code of Military Justice. So help me God.”

But that was when I joined and why I joined, this post is titled Why We Serve. I have taken that very same oath 4 times over since that 21st day of May, 1987, re-enlisting and re-affirming my commitment to serve.

I think it safe to say that I continued to serve for a myriad of reasons over the years. Foremost was/is that I absolutely loved my job. I mean how cool is it to get paid a decent wage to fly helicopters all over the globe, learn to shoot five or six different weapon systems, meet women from several different countries, attend military schools that challenge your soul, forge friendships for life, and make a difference in the lives of others? It truly isn’t just a job, it is an adventure (at least I didn’t throw in “being all one can be”).

As I grew up, both personally and professionally, I found that I continued to enjoy serving. I relished in teaching young Soldiers the lessons that I had learned and found pride in watching many of them rise up and meet challenge after challenge.

I eventually settled down, a little, married and started a family and my reasons for serving became firmly entrenched within who I am. When my son was born and I held him for the first time I was instantly overcome with just how heavy of a responsibility I faced in raising him. It was not lost on me that my chosen profession, the profession of arms, protected his future, defended a way of life that would provide him, and all the other babies in the hospital nursery, with freedoms and opportunities not found anywhere else in the world.

We serve not for ourselves, but for others; our children, family, loved ones, and friends. We serve for those that served before us, desperate to not allow their sacrifices be for naught, determined not to let them down. We serve for those unable to serve themselves, offering hope and help that they may one day know liberty. We serve in hopes that those we serve will be proud of us. We serve with honor. We serve in victory. We serve. Sgt Hook out.