Lessons learned from getting kicked out of the U.S. military

  

 In late 2009 I was finishing high school, and by finishing, I mean dropping out and getting my G.E.D. High School was very mundane and boring for me. I didn’t feel I was gaining any knowledge on subjects I was interested in. Anything I wanted to know I could just learn on the internet. So what was the point? Confused on what I should do with my life I started contemplating different careers.

 Although I love learning, going to college and accumulating debt up to my neck didn’t sound appealing to me. I spent the first year out of high school working construction jobs (roofing, waterproofing, lawn care) the money was alright, but I didn’t feel like I was making a constructive difference. I’ve always wanted to create meaningful change in the world, but have never managed to find a constructive outlet (even to this day). I think a lot of people have that problem.

 Anywho, one cold wintery day a friend of mine suggested that I join the military! He was trying to get into the Navy and wanted me to join with him. My initial reaction was one of disgust and laughter. I never really gave a hoot for the way our government handled things, so why would I want to be part of the machine?... He started talking about being able to travel, meeting new people, learning new things… and, they give you a fat chunk of money for college tuition! It all started to sound a little exciting. I mean, I’ve spent my whole life in the bummy town of Cambridge, MN and I wanted to experience something more... Something exciting and different. Could this be the stepping stone that I have been looking for to create a life that I enjoyed? I needed more information. So I decided to go talk to a recruiter.

 The minute I walked into the recruitment office I was ambushed by an overwhelming sense of pride. Something about the American flags and people in shnazzy NSU’s instantly made me feel like I was part of something larger than myself. After chatting with the recruiter for a bit and listening to his “sea stories" I was all in. I signed some paperwork, he gave a list of things to study and I was on my merry way.

 A few weeks later I went to M.E.P.S. It's essentially a processing station where they run tests on potential recruits. Meaning, some old dude fondles your balls and you sign some more paperwork. You know, all that fun junk. The same week I learned that I was going to be a submariner! I didn’t even fully understand what a submarine was at the time, but I was like sure sign me up! I was already mentally committed to the idea of being in the military at that point. I mean, how bad could it really be?   

^Typical marching formation^

  It was late June. I was on an airplane headed for Great Lakes, Illinois with a bunch of other recruits who similarly had no idea what they were getting into. There Is always this air of uncertainty when you’re in the military. You don’t really know where you are going or what you are doing… people tell you to do things, and you just do them, because you literally have no choice. That is pretty much how my next 8 weeks in boot camp went. Eating, shitting, sleeping, walking, breathing, thinking, all things that I once did on my own, were now no longer under my control. My entire worldview was wiped away and forcibly replaced by the thick and rich cultural narratives of the U.S. navy. It’s insane how much your state of mind can change in 2 months when all of your external inputs are not under your control… 

 All things considered; It jived with me pretty well. I enjoyed the mental discipline, I got in good physical shape, and I was advanced 2 ranks for my performance. I came out with a renewed sense of purpose and direction and things were looking up. 

 After boot camp, I was sent to Groton, CT to begin my class specific schooling (A-school). This was actually a great time. It was like getting paid to go to class and live in a dorm. I say go to class, not “learn about things” for a reason. Every class I went to there was a lingering sense of “let’s just get this shit over with so we can all go home”. I honestly didn’t learn much. There was even an entire 4 week class where all everybody did was guess multiple choice questions until they got the answer right. Funny enough this class was called “tactical computer networking operations”. Apparently that’s a technical term for randomly clicking bubbles on a computer screen. Whatever, I thought, this is easy just roll with it.  After “A” school I learned I was going to a boat that was stationed in San Diego. Cool, I love California!… This is when things changed BIG time.  

^Point Loma, Where I was stationed^

 June of 2011, upon completing “A” school I was assigned to my “boat”, The USS Albuqurque. Now when I say boat, I mean boat. It’s fucking tiny. Imagine a windowless 360 ft. steel tube with stuffed full of 120 dudes. Yeah. So I fly into San Diego and I learn that my boat is going on deployment in 2 days. Interesting, I’ve never actually been on a submarine before and now I’m going to be on one for 6 months straight (with the occasional port stop). Talk about a wakeup call. I mean I’ve been learning about submarines for quite some time at this point, but more from a technical standpoint. Not from a "lifestyle" standpoint. I don’t think any amount of training can prepare you for this.

Whatever, I show up with a positive attitude thinking “I got this in the bag... cakewalk”. Now, I can’t describe the exact details of a submarine because it’s highly illegal and I don’t want some chump with a gun and a badge showing up at my house, so I will do my best to explain the experience in generalized terms... Have you ever gone to a party and not known ANYBODY?? Now imagine there is no booze at that party, everybody is pissed off, you are stuck there for 6 months, and you have to spend the entire time in the corner studying books while everybody calls you an idiot. That’s what it is like being a U.S. Submarine.

 But what did I expect? I joined the fuckin military. Man up. Right? Within the first week I had a fat old man, or put more politely, the “doctor” of the boat, put a knife to my throat and threaten to kill me ((I assume he was trying to “test” me)(this guy is actually in prison now on molestation charges)). I’m sleeping less than 4 hours a night and breathing recycled fart air. Everywhere I look there is knobs, switches, levers, gauges, hoses, pipes, wheels, every technical gadget you can imagine. And some that you can't imagine. It was a very disorienting atmosphere to be thrown into.  

^Inside of a submarine^

 My day consisted of waking up (usually to a drill), eating shitty preserved food, standing a watch (learning about my job) for 6 hours, studying for 6-8 hours, then sleeping again for about 4 hours. A few weeks in I began to feel very disenfranchised. What the fuck am I doing? I’m doing a job that I hate, for people that I don’t respect, for a shitty wage, and for a cause that I don’t believe in. That’s a heavy realization to come to when you are stuck underwater in a steel tube for 6 months with a 5-year contract hanging over your head. 

Every second began to drag, I became extremely depressed, and all I could think about is “how the fuck do I get out of here?”. I tried talking to my chief about how I couldn’t adapt to that atmosphere mentally. He didn’t care. I tried talking to the “doc”. He didn’t care. Everybody was too wrapped up in their “militaristic-pride” to give me advice on what to do.  There was no way out.

 Then I started talking to a young Filipino gentleman who we will call “Garcia”. Garcia was in the same predicament as me, and having the same problems. I told him I was going to try to get kicked out as soon as possible. Surprisingly, he was considering the same thing! Great, we’ll do it together then. I told him the next place we pull into I’m going to research what the best way to get kicked out of the military is and we’ll implement it.

 A couple dragging weeks later we pulled into Guam. Guam seems like it would have been lovely place to be, If I were there on different circumstances. But, given my circumstance, I instantly got off the boat and began to acquire information about discharges until my eyes bleed. Turns out, the best way to get kicked out, at the time, was to smoke some marijuana! Wait… so I can get out of this situation that I have grown to hate so direly… and get high? Sign me up. I didn’t care what the repercussions were. I literally couldn’t take it anymore. I will play the hand that I am dealt when I get out… But right now I need to take care of my mental situation before I actually go insane.

 I talked to Garcia about my plans, he was on-board. The problem was we wouldn’t be able to find any weed until we got back to San Diego, which was 4 months out. That meant 4 more months on a jam-packed fart-filled underwater grease bucket. This was the longest most dreadful 4 months of my life. I counted down every. single. day. The end of the deployment became the light at the end of the tunnel... All I have to do is tough this out for 4 months then I’m getting the fuck out of here for good. 

^Submarine doing an "emergency blow" procedure"

 After a grueling 4 months of undersea shenanigans, we pulled back into San Diego. What a sigh of relief it was to see my home continent again. Plus, I was allowed to go on a 2-week vacation. So I went back home to Minnesota where I smoked copious amounts of marijuana, praying on having to take a pee test when I got back. I’ve never really enjoyed smoking weed, it makes me nervous and lazy. But if it was going to get me out of the military, sign me up.

 When I got back to the base I patiently awaited a piss test so I could pop and get this situation over with... A couple weeks went by, still no piss test. The boat was about to go underway again and me and Garcia agreed that we had to take more drastic measures. We were hanging out in my barracks room with a sack of weed when we got the “bright” idea to roll a couple joints and smoked them on base at the smoke pit. Now, mind you, smoking weed on a military base is like walking into a library with a boom box. People are going to know. And sure enough, that got attention reeeal quick...

 5 minutes after we smoked I heard a loud knock on my barracks door. I opened the curtain, and there were 5 Military police standing there. “This is it”, I thought. My heart started pounding. I opened the door and they came storming in. Tearing my room apart like I was some sort of kingpin drug dealer. “It’s all right there” I said, pointing to a small bag of weed on my bed, but they continued to wreck the place looking for more. That’s their job I suppose. 

Anyways, we get hulled off for questioning where we had to play the “I didn’t know it was illegal” card to avoid being discharged on negative terms. It was really difficult standing in a room full of chiefs and officers claiming that I didn’t know weed was illegal… Who doesn’t know that?  

After captains mast (court) we got put on “restriction” for 2 months while we awaited discharge. “Restriction” is basically a shaming system where you march around with a red badge that says “restricted” while you scrape bird shit off of bollards. Pretty humiliating stuff. Now, the discharge that we received is called an OTH or Other Than Honorable Discharge. Essentially it acts as If you were never in the military to begin with. You don’t get any of the benefits of being in the military, but you also don’t acquire any negative repercussions. At the end of the 2 months of restriction they literally just drove us to the end of U.S. government property with our belongings and said “get out” … Which we gladly did! 

   How has the outcome of these actions affected my life?

  On an occupational level, it hasn’t affected me. I’ve had a few different jobs since I got out and not one of them has asked me about my “military background” … if you could call it that. It has mostly just turned into a funny story to tell. Well, It’s funny now, but the experience of being on the submarine was actually the most negative thing I have ever experienced. Overall, I’m glad I joined and I’m glad I got out when I did. I met some amazing people while I was in and I still keep in touch with Garcia to this day. I guess the big thing here is to not blindly throw yourself into situations without having a thorough understanding of the possible outcomes… Or do, and maybe you’ll end up with a story to tell. That’s up to you!   

  What went wrong?  

 The problem is that I was never genuinely gung-ho about being in the military. Deep down I thought our country was actually built on a web of disingenuity. But, I suppressed that because I thought what I was doing was “right” and “noble”. Being a human propagator for the American agenda was something that I realized was not for me only through submerging myself (quite literally) into the American war machine. I signed up for something that I had no practical knowledge about. The reason that I joined was because I felt societal pressure to do something with my life. Instead of doing something with my life, I decided to let the government do something with my life. Which was a very bad decision… I wanted to experience something “more” and I felt a nagging desperation to escape my current situation. I should have more thoroughly assessed my situation at the time!  

    What is my advise for people who are thinking about joining the military?  

You should really take a look at the state of current affairs of your country before plunging into a military occupation. Don’t just join because you like playing “call of duty” or because you have a grandiose opinion on how “cool” it would be to be in the military or because you want your college tuition paid for. Being in the military means you are a voluntarily being a poster board for the ideals of your country. If you really feel that your country is worth dying for, then join. Otherwise, you are going to run into some real mental roadblocks along the way!  

I hope you enjoyed this story, or at least walk away from this having learned something. If not I’m sorry for wasting your time!   

Thanks!!