Misery Loves Misery

I was in stationed in Ft. Stewart Georgia. It was November, around the time of my birthday. I was informed that I was volunteered for a training mission. I found out last minute I was going to spend a week or two at an airbase. Just before, I had learned that—due to a clerical error—I didn’t get my promotion to Sgt.

So, I was on the air base. The training centered around securing an enemy airbase. I was to drive the Hummer out of a C-5 and provide support for the paratroopers. The actual mission was going to use Bradley's (a type of tank), but they wanted to get a feel for the mission with Hummers first. To me that was like practicing basketball with a football. Plus, they thought it would save gas money. I mean they’re paying us regardless, so just as well save money on something.

Then we were there. Camping on the runway. The C-5 (the military’s largest plane) was yards from us. I was too bitter to appreciate the airplane and that I was going to drive a Hummer into it. And… I was going to get to watch paratroopers jump out of it.

But, I was miserable. And, my misery only grew. Since I was not a Sgt, I was put on guard duty. Whereas the Sgt assigned with us (who went to PLDC with me) got the cushy part and got to sleep. I should have gotten my Sgt rank at the same time as him. Thus, being in the army longer, I would have outranked him. So, I did my shift, sitting in a truck, staring at the massive plane. My teeth probably gnashing like a cud-chewing cow. The next day came, but our mission wasn’t until the night. We did nearly nothing all day. The day of my birthday. A Saturday… Then, night came. We got to drive in. The belly the plane was at least as big as a basketball court. We had to take a ladder to the second story or maybe it was more like the third. The thing was huge.

After we parked our Hummer and strapped it down, we buckled in and took off. I was ready for this mission to be done. But, I had days left. The plane rode smooth. That didn’t matter. I’d never been this motion sick before. To add to my misery, you probably know what happened next. I filled an airsick bag. That’s just the way everything had to go. An hour passed. As we circled the air waiting for the paratroopers to surround the airfield, I was feeling better. Dreadfully thirsty, I needed water. So, I drank a lot. I returned to our hummer and sat on the driver’s seat waiting. My stomach started its lurching, churning motions. I filled another airsick bag. Just as I finished, the lights went out. Everything was dark.  It was time to land. After closing my airsick bag, I hastily placed it on the radio shelf next to my seat…

As soon as the feet of the plane's wheels struck the airstrip, I jumped out of the vehicle to unstrap it. We practiced this drill from the landed plane. Mission required that every vehicle rush out as soon as the plane landed. I did my part. Once everyone was done releasing the truck, we were to drive out of the plane. I opened the hummer door, and jumped into the truck with the Army sense of urgency.

Pop. The same noise you hear when you pop a bread bag.

I cringed. I retched. I cussed (I was known in my platoon as the one who didn’t cuss). My thighs and rear were soaked. My TC shouted ‘go.’ And I drove out, sitting in my own vomit. The landing had rattled my airsick bag off the shelf.  Of course, it landed on my seat. Not the floor, but my seat. The rest of the mission continued. I surrendered. “You know what,” I told myself. “Being miserable is not going to make anything better.” I was right. I laughed. I let myself realize, how lucky I’d been to even get to have this experience. And, having done it while not in a real combat.

The next day we left, because they used Bradley's for the next practice run instead. I was only gone for three days. And, I got this great story out of the experience.

Truth: We can always find an excuse to be miserable. And we often do. I know I sure do. But, regardless of our trials, what good does it do to wallow in our misery? I’m not advocated for a wool-over-eyes blindness. I’m simply asking how does one mold trials into joy and wisdom? How does one avoid clinging to misery in a miserable situation?