Burnt hands, angry drill sergeants, and Bob Marley at Fort Knox

A lingering curiosity

The thought always lingered -- should I join the military? I always played with green army men, and enjoyed military strategy games. I decided to try it when the opportunity arose to join the U.S. Army's ROTC program in college, and the military shipped me off to train at Fort Knox.

"The most secure fort in the country"

I got my itinerary. Fort Knox! I couldn't wait.

American Airlines upgraded my flight to first class because of my military orders. They kept calling me "sir," and asking what I'd like to drink. I had never flown like this before, and felt speechless half the time!

I arrived at Fort Knox, and the cadre (military training personnel) thoroughly searched our belongings for contraband before directing us to our barracks and issuing us our sheets and pillows.

My bunk (lower left) in our barracks on the first day

The first week of training was pretty laid back. We were issued our gear, taught how to use it, and got comfortable with everyone in our platoon. One unique thing about the Army is that no person seems to have the same origin story. Some are in it for their family, others to pay for college, some to get citizenship (at the time), and a few just for the honor. So many ideologies, cultures, and languages flowed throughout the barracks. We became a tight-knit bunch in short time.

Me posing with my bunk buddies

Then, suddenly -- a 03:00 AM wake up call, and a rush to an outdoor field for "introductions." We got into formation, and stood in the dew-coated grass, blinded by bright flood lights for what seemed like ages.

It was time for the "first 100 yards."

The shark attack

Several drill sergeants swarmed our platoons, screaming taunts and orders at the top of their lungs, all at once.

Then, they had us do different drills under time pressure. For instance, a four man litter carry with the rest of the platoon trailing behind hauling ammo crates in both hands, while jogging up stairways and navigating obstacles. These missions seemed to be designed to make you fail -- and we did just that. We didn't have the greatest time with the drill sergeants after that, to say the least.

At one point later on, some people in our platoon (including me) ended up with burns on our hands after our drill sergeants had us do push-ups on the blacktop on an extremely hot, sunny day. Apparently, those drill sergeants were reprimanded and removed from rotation. We didn’t see them again after that.

The rest of the "Red Phase" was chaotic, and tough. But the intensity of it all was thrilling. I was excited to be challenging my limits, and to be part of a team with so much grit and devotion. With a few members of my family having served before, I felt like I was carrying their torch in some sense, too, which added emotional weight to this whole experience.

A Pop-Tart, for your achievement

We were still training seven days a week, 16 hours a day -- but things became somewhat calmer.

It was time to get our rifles. This was the day our training symbolically started to feel "real" for us, so everyone was excited. In traditional Army fashion, we hurried up and waited in line for several hours to get our rifles issued.

Me with my friends Nick and JP

I ended up being the best shooter in my platoon and was awarded a blueberry Pop-Tart by one of our drill sergeants. For us, this was a pretty sweet prize. We were conditioned to MREs and freeze-dried DFAC food. I gave the Pop-Tart away to one of my platoon mates, who devoured it immediately.

Gnarly blisters and ticks -- your rite of passage

All of our training culminated in field exercises, where we ventured into the wilderness to simulate various combat scenarios. If you aren't already able to fall asleep anywhere within a few seconds, you'll learn how to do that here.

Carrying a 40 pound rucksack up Misery Hill (yes, it’s actually called that) in the sweltering Kentucky summer heat. Sleeping under the trees with no shelter, using your pants as a pillow. Desperately asking around for any MRE scraps that your battle buddies might have. Fighting to keep your eyes open as you're laying prone, pulling watch at your outpost.

Getting at least one tick plucked off by a medic was a rite of passage at this stage.

We had tons of fun, despite all of this. We practiced combat movements in the forest, with each of us being assigned different roles within a platoon each time. We learned how to command, execute, and review missions -- which led to some interesting arguments when things went awry.

At this point, I developed blisters on my feet from the ill-fitted standard issue boots I was given. I joined the ROTC a little later than some peers, so I didn't know that buying fancy combat boots from a third-party seller was the way to go. My feet bled every day, and I struggled to walk. It got to the point where I had to have the blisters surgically drained by medics, who said they were the worst they'd ever seen.

There was some shame associated with having to see a medic in my platoon. I was teased by my peers and drill sergeants for limping, and needing medical care. The interesting thing about the ROTC is that you can quit at any time prior to signing your officer contract, and the army would fly you back home -- unlike basic training for enlisted members. I had the chance to quit here, and I was tempted. But I really wanted to push myself to the finish line.

NIC at Night

We made it through our field training exercises, and got to the "finale" -- the Night Infiltration Course, colloquially known as NIC at Night.

Here, you had to bear crawl through sand under barbed wire in full combat gear, while live rounds were being fired above your head. Explosions and flares are triggered all around you as you go. Our mouths got filled with sand.

The Night Infiltration Course (also known as NIC at Night)

It sounds terrible, but it was ironically what everyone was looking forward to the most.

Rifles and Reggae

The Army has a way of humbling you right before you celebrate. For us, that meant sitting in our barracks, field-stripping and cleaning our rifles for a full day before graduation.

My friend Koroma and I decided to quietly put on Bob Marley through my phone (hoping we don't get caught!), and suddenly the whole moment softened. We were exhausted, but sitting there humming along to “Three Little Birds” almost felt surreal. We found a quiet peace in our shared love for the music, in an environment where peace felt forbidden. No words. Just an unspoken unity in brotherhood.

Graduating, and a reunion

We made it! I was so excited to see my family again at my graduation. To make things even more exciting, my friend CJ, who is an IT technician with the Army, traveled 6 hours from Ohio to see me graduate, too. CJ and I became friends online when I was 13, and we had only met in person once before this.

To add another layer of meaning, my best friend Devon, who I grew up with since elementary school, passed away from cancer a few months before I got to Fort Knox. CJ was a mutual friend, and we celebrated the graduation as if Devon were still with us. So, this moment was particularly special and emotional for me.

Me and my friend CJ holding a picture of our late best friend Devon, who passed away from cancer

Our companies were lined up in formation, and ceremonies began. To some of my peers who came from an extensive lineage of military officers, this was just a formality and wasn't so special to them. But it felt really special to me. I was proud of myself for pushing through the challenging moments, believing in myself, and breaking my limitations to make it to the end -- and I was even prouder of my teammates for doing the same.

I met so many great people through this journey, and learned so much through them. I found myself constantly impressed by the diversity in talent, in thought, and in approach that I found among my platoon. One person, "Cadet Cruz," was a phenomenal singer, and I had to get her to sing one last song before I went home!

My friend Cruz singing at our graduation (she has an amazing voice!)

I'm still in touch with some of the people I met at Fort Knox today, and have visited them around the country since.

Although I ultimately decided not to pursue a career with the Army, I'll always be grateful for what this experience taught me, the people I met, and the things I got to do along the way (even if they weren't so fun in the moment!). Fort Knox helped shape me into a better man, and gave me a stronger sense of direction in life.