By
Stacy Atkinson
ŅMom,
I need you to sign here. IÕm leaving next Monday.Ó Those were the words out of
my older sisterÕs mouth. MomÕs mouth and my mouth were wide open in complete
and utter shock. I was 10 years old at the time and couldnÕt help but wonder
what my sister was about to put herself through. I spent the next couple of
days running around the house nagging my sister for answers to questions. ŅWhat
is it going to be like?Ó ŅWhat are they going make you do?Ó My sister always responded
uneasily, ŅIÕm really not sure.Ó
My sister left, made it through boot camp, and Mom and
I traveled to North Carolina to watch her graduate. I felt the enormous sense
of pride my sister had for her accomplishment. How badly I wanted to be just like
her! I hadnÕt always wanted to be just like her. But somehow at that point in
my life, I couldnÕt help but admire everything I imagined she had gone through
to reach that point.
A
few years later I spent a day on Fort Hamilton Army Base in Brooklyn, New York,
watching the Marine Corps Silent Drill Team perform. It was a class trip, and
all we expected as 8th graders was a really boring history lesson or
a performance that would put us to sleep. Sitting there on the grass, I
immediately knew I was in for much more. The MarinesÕ pressed and bright
uniforms, along with their intense movements Š the Ņpop and lockÓ of the
rifles, the clicking of their heels, and their coordinated movements Š has
stood out in my mind for years, every time I hear mention of the Marines. As a
child, every time I saw one of those red, black and gold United States Marine
Corps emblems, I always thought back on those Marines in their ever so bright
and pressed uniforms. I had always heard that they were the best, whatever that
meant, and knew that one day if I was strong enough to sign up I wanted to be a
Marine.
I
graduated High School in 2002 with a good scholarship to attend Saint JosephÕs
College in New York, and planned to become a teacher Š if I earned a BachelorÕs
Degree. Teaching was one of those other dreams in the back of my mind, an old
dream, but not as old as the Marine dream. Ready to embark on the college life,
I committed myself to Saint JoeÕs, but after two years I still dreamed of being
one of those Marine guys. No matter how much I tried couldnÕt get the Marine
dream out of my head. Could I make it through Boot Camp though? No way! The
thought of failure often entered and exited my mind, but the desire lingered.
I convinced myself over and over again that I could
never do it. I convinced myself that I wasnÕt even worthy of dreaming about it.
In my mind, becoming a Marine was just not possible for a weak 120-pound girl
with no athletic orientation whatsoever. The words raced over and over in my
head: ŅThere is just no way I can ever make it.Ó
In
2005, I put the teaching dream to the side and accepted a full time job working
as a Staffing Specialist. With a bold salary of 41,000 dollars a year, who
would ever think of refusing the offer just to finish a degree? I sure didnÕt.
I also relocated with the company to Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, on an impulse
and spent a year there.
After that first
year, I became bored and my dream of becoming one of those Marine people crept
up on me. As I considered my options, I bounced back and forth promising myself
to go back to college and become a teacher because it was the easier of my two
dreams and, as a teacher, I wouldnÕt have to go to Boot Camp. Looking for every
excuse in the book to not sign up for the Marines, I also remained unsuccessful
in returning to school to complete a teaching degree.
One
Saturday afternoon in the mall, I saw him Š the man who would recruit me into
the Marines and help me begin my journey. Neither he nor I knew it at the time,
but I would be one of only two women he recruited and shipped off to Boot Camp
during his entire three year recruiting tour.
When I saw my
recruiter, I was in line at the Dairy Queen in the Food Court. I stared as he
passed through the Food Court, holding a cup of coffee and wearing that uniform
so pressed and bright. Instantly that Silent Drill Team I had thought about for
years came to my mind. I couldnÕt help but think that I at least should talk to
him. Talking to him could do no harm Š he could never convince me to give up my
high-paying job to join. I was way stronger that!
I followed the
recruiter downstairs to his office and let him walk far ahead of me. He entered
the small recruiting hub and closed the door. I chickened out and went home. If
I wasnÕt going to join, I didnÕt even want to waste his time - excuses were
still winning the battle in my mind.
For two months, I promised myself I would at least go
talk to the recruiter. I never found the nerve to do it. Plus, my great job was
keeping me busy. Besides, I didnÕt want to put him through all the butchering,
the questioning, the interrogation I was planning. I was completely convinced
that he could never ever say anything that would make me want to join. Why even
bother? Boot Camp would be too tough. And aside from having the toughest Boot
Camp for recruits, there were only a small percentage of female Marines, 6
percent at the time, in the whole Marine Corps. I could never make it into that
elite few.
One
day, despite all of those self-inflicted negative thoughts, I did it. I went
into the recruiterÕs office to donate to the Marine Corps Reserve Toys for Tots
program and scheduled an appointment for an enlistment interview. I got the ŅSo
you want to be a Marine?Ó look.
That really lit me on fire. Not a fire of anger but a fire of motivation. I had
long hair and long red nails. I was wearing a suit and heels Š but so what? I
could be a Marine, too, if I wanted. Plenty of females made it through Boot
Camp before me and plenty will make it after me. Who were any of them to look at
me puzzled just because I didnÕt exactly fit the average description of a
potential marine? IÕd show them! That became my new attitude regarding the
Marine Corps. It was an attitude that changed my life forever.
I met with the recruiter one evening. Before he
arrived, I really thought that he was going to hate me. I was going to be that
potential recruit that came in with all the questions recruiters dodge. I was
going to butcher him up. He had no idea! I was just coming in to inquire about
those Marine people. I wasnÕt joining! I donÕt want to go through Boot Camp!
We spoke for a good two hours. I was certain that I
had the upper hand, while wondering all the while what exactly was the upper
hand for a girl who willingly went and spoke to this busy recruiter. I would
not let this recruiter do to me what he had done to so many others by
convincing them what they should do in life. I was to be strong and ask all the
questions. I wanted to make him scratch his head and convince me not to join! I
left the recruiterÕs office and promised to look at the other services and see
which would offer me the best opportunity. After all, all the recruiting branch
offices were within feet of each other and I had the upper hand. Remember? The
Marines needed me; I didnÕt need them!
I was still saying to myself that there was no way I
was going anywhere, but I never even made it to the other servicesÕ recruiting
offices because I knew that the Marines were the best Š whatever that meant Š
and I knew that the uniform was always bright and pressed.
I lost touch with my recruiter for a whole two days,
and then there he was, ringing my phone and begging for answers. I went into
the office three times more to discuss the process of enlistment and fill out
all sorts of paperwork. Each time I kept thinking to myself that this wasnÕt
really happening. I wasnÕt going to give up my dog and my apartment and my
really good jobÉNO WAY! How stupid to sacrifice all that for a low paying job
where they were going to tell me where to live, what to do, and even make me
run too!
Then
it happened. My recruiter called me at my job and said everything had checked
out. I could enlist! He asked me when I wanted to swear in. Swear in? Was he
nuts? I kept screaming in my head, ŅI canÕt make it through boot camp!Ó But
after many talks with other Marines and researching all that I could, I became
determined to make it.
Two weeks later, I
spent the afternoon swearing in to become a United States Marine. What a moment
that was! I couldnÕt even recite the oath Š I was a blubbering mess: proud,
overjoyed and a little bit nervous. I planned everything out in my head and
promised that I would do the Marine thing and leave the Marine Corps a better
person or stay in and continue on with the Marine Corps life.
Shipping
out to Boot Camp evoked another round of self-questioning: ŅAm I really doing
this?Ó ŅWhen will I turn around and go home?Ó
For 3 months, I kept
thinking that one day I would wake up and be home, and none of this
marine-stuff would have ever happened. But I didnÕt want my enlistment to be a
dream because at this point, it was already too much of a reality: hard work,
sweat, pain. I was determined to make it.
Determination is what has truly carried me through
this entire journey.
I
graduated Boot Camp on July 14, 2006. That feeling is truly indescribable. I
could never really put into words what it felt like to earn a title I had
denied myself for so many years. I remembered my sisterÕs Army graduation. Now
I really know what she had felt because I was feeling the same thing upon
completing Boot Camp. I still thought that it couldnÕt be true and that none of
it was happening. But with everything I had been through during Boot Camp, it
better have all been true, and I better have earned that title, Marine.
With
two short years in the Marine Corps, I am grateful each day for that 8th
grade class trip to see the Silent Drill team and for seeing my recruiter
strolling through the Food Court. I canÕt imagine my life any other way. It
would be neither as satisfying nor as rewarding. Jobs will come and go but
earning the title, Marine, is something no one can ever take away. WeÕre
motivated and we scream, we run and we are mean, but in the end, our job is to
be selfless advocates of AmericaÕs freedom. ThatÕs a job like none other.
My salary is way less
than 41K a year, but being a marine is worth way more than any monetary amount.
Marines from all walks of life are far different than any other organized group
of people IÕve met. There are tons of stories about how marines actually wound
up choosing this branch of service. Many did it for the self-accomplishment,
the challenge, or out of patriotism. IÕve made up a tremendous number of cheesy
reasons for my decision to join. The truth is, I donÕt believe I chose the
Marine Corps; IÕm pretty sure the Marine Corps chose me.