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Aug 15, 2003 The morning I will never forget
Aug 15, 2003
The morning I will never forget
It all started on August 15, 2003. I was woken up at 5 in the morning by three armed men in camouflage screaming and beating their batons on the metal poles holding my bunk to the one below mine. As my brain began catching up with my body through the yelling and pounding of metal on metal, I realized that I was standing in complete darkness, wearing nothing but the new boxers I had received the night before. I stood there in the pitch black room for over an hour, not moving, because of the fear of the repercussions. The room was completely still; all I could hear were the footsteps of the armed men and the quick but faint breaths coming from all around me. I could tell that there must be at least a dozen or so other people in the room. As the sun came up and light began to flow though the numerous windows and into the room, I found myself in a completely new place, my first time away from my family. As the room grew brighter, I began to be able to put faces to the faint breaths around me-there were eighty-eight men to be exact. All were standing at the foot of their bunks in nothing but their new white boxers just like me. In fact with the exception of age, skin color, and the size of their boxers, I noticed that every one of us looked exactly the same.
We all had big eyes and the same expression of fear on our faces, and as the armed men kept pacing, the same uncertainty as to what would happen next. The thought flashed through my mind that if we all just ran, there was no way they could catch all of us. I wanted out, but I also knew their was little hope of that now. I was stuck, held captive by these men. Watching them I noticed that two of them were dressed in green camouflage, and the other wore brown. I could tell that the one in brown was in charge judging by the way he walked around the room, making sure to stare deep into our eyes as he passed, almost like he was trying to measure our souls and our individual ability to handle the situation. After about twenty minutes, the man in brown spoke, yelling in broken English “About face!”. Each second seemed to last forever as our brains tried to put meaning to his words, and another eternity before one of us not only comprehended, but actually dared to moved. As I turned around I saw four shirts and four pairs of pants hanging there on the baton-dinged bars of my bunk. The sunlight was coming horizontally through the windows now, casting a perfect shadow of my body on the clothes, almost as if I were already in them. The pants were made of cotton and were a dark blue. The shirts, a lighter blue with a pocket on each side and a patch with writing etched on it above each pocket. I tried to make out words but couldn’t in the little light, though I was sure it must be the name of the organization the armed men are with.
I was just a boy-merely seventeen, and I had no idea what I was in for. I had no idea that that I would be wearing these four sets of clothes for the next four years, and that the name of the organization on the patch would take me to four continents and five countries before I was released. Initially, I knew very little about the organization, or how it would change my life, but as I became aware of what they stood for I found myself, ever so slowly, beginning to stand along with them. Little did I know that before those four years were up I would endure many hardships such as the death of some of the very men standing in this room. Little did I know that I would eventually respect the men who were holding me captive on this August morning, and that they, over time, would grow to respect me.
As the years went on, I began to take great pride in the names on the patches above my chest. The patch on my right read “Sargent”-my last name. That patch showed the world who I was and it was on my chest as I transformed from a boy to man. That patch represented me and my life, but it was the name on the patch on my left that added purpose to the one on my right. It is a name that has been around for hundreds of years and one that thousands have worn. I it is a name that I would eventually defend and fight for, alongside the very men who were keeping me captive. It is a patch that hundreds of men and women have paid the ultimate sacrifice in support of. It is a name that I would begin to take great pride in wearing.
While the three armed men paced behind me, the sunlight through the window continued to rise over my shoulder until I could eventually read the name that would be over my heart for the years to come. It read…
Click to view more Navy <a href="http://venturephoto.smugmug.com/gallery/4296212_kjty2"><b>pictures</b></a> and <a href="http://venturephoto.smugmug.com/gallery/4296212_kjty2/1/286756556_xZSqY/Original"><b>video</b></a>.
The morning I will never forget
It all started on August 15, 2003. I was woken up at 5 in the morning by three armed men in camouflage screaming and beating their batons on the metal poles holding my bunk to the one below mine. As my brain began catching up with my body through the yelling and pounding of metal on metal, I realized that I was standing in complete darkness, wearing nothing but the new boxers I had received the night before. I stood there in the pitch black room for over an hour, not moving, because of the fear of the repercussions. The room was completely still; all I could hear were the footsteps of the armed men and the quick but faint breaths coming from all around me. I could tell that there must be at least a dozen or so other people in the room. As the sun came up and light began to flow though the numerous windows and into the room, I found myself in a completely new place, my first time away from my family. As the room grew brighter, I began to be able to put faces to the faint breaths around me-there were eighty-eight men to be exact. All were standing at the foot of their bunks in nothing but their new white boxers just like me. In fact with the exception of age, skin color, and the size of their boxers, I noticed that every one of us looked exactly the same.
We all had big eyes and the same expression of fear on our faces, and as the armed men kept pacing, the same uncertainty as to what would happen next. The thought flashed through my mind that if we all just ran, there was no way they could catch all of us. I wanted out, but I also knew their was little hope of that now. I was stuck, held captive by these men. Watching them I noticed that two of them were dressed in green camouflage, and the other wore brown. I could tell that the one in brown was in charge judging by the way he walked around the room, making sure to stare deep into our eyes as he passed, almost like he was trying to measure our souls and our individual ability to handle the situation. After about twenty minutes, the man in brown spoke, yelling in broken English “About face!”. Each second seemed to last forever as our brains tried to put meaning to his words, and another eternity before one of us not only comprehended, but actually dared to moved. As I turned around I saw four shirts and four pairs of pants hanging there on the baton-dinged bars of my bunk. The sunlight was coming horizontally through the windows now, casting a perfect shadow of my body on the clothes, almost as if I were already in them. The pants were made of cotton and were a dark blue. The shirts, a lighter blue with a pocket on each side and a patch with writing etched on it above each pocket. I tried to make out words but couldn’t in the little light, though I was sure it must be the name of the organization the armed men are with.
I was just a boy-merely seventeen, and I had no idea what I was in for. I had no idea that that I would be wearing these four sets of clothes for the next four years, and that the name of the organization on the patch would take me to four continents and five countries before I was released. Initially, I knew very little about the organization, or how it would change my life, but as I became aware of what they stood for I found myself, ever so slowly, beginning to stand along with them. Little did I know that before those four years were up I would endure many hardships such as the death of some of the very men standing in this room. Little did I know that I would eventually respect the men who were holding me captive on this August morning, and that they, over time, would grow to respect me.
As the years went on, I began to take great pride in the names on the patches above my chest. The patch on my right read “Sargent”-my last name. That patch showed the world who I was and it was on my chest as I transformed from a boy to man. That patch represented me and my life, but it was the name on the patch on my left that added purpose to the one on my right. It is a name that has been around for hundreds of years and one that thousands have worn. I it is a name that I would eventually defend and fight for, alongside the very men who were keeping me captive. It is a patch that hundreds of men and women have paid the ultimate sacrifice in support of. It is a name that I would begin to take great pride in wearing.
While the three armed men paced behind me, the sunlight through the window continued to rise over my shoulder until I could eventually read the name that would be over my heart for the years to come. It read…
Click to view more Navy <a href="http://venturephoto.smugmug.com/gallery/4296212_kjty2"><b>pictures</b></a> and <a href="http://venturephoto.smugmug.com/gallery/4296212_kjty2/1/286756556_xZSqY/Original"><b>video</b></a>.
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