I could feel the sweat running off of my forehead as I ran through a back alley. It was dark and humid and I knew the old man was right behind me. He has every reason to be chasing me, since I had just broken into his van. Fortunately for me I was young and in shape and knew if I kept running I would eventually get away from him. I made it home that night in one piece but I knew I had gotten away with another close call. I was used to close calls since I was an angry teenager ready to fight just about anyone that looked at me. I felt like I was on top of the world and nothing to bring me down. I came as I went and did whatever I wanted to do, and then it happened. I received a phone call that my father was in a motorcycle wreck and I needed to get to Houston as fast as possible. An hour away in Conroe, I jumped in my truck and drove as fast as I could to my father’s girlfriend’s house. As soon as I arrived I was told that he had, “died from injuries sustained from the crash.” I remember falling to my knees and crying out loud. I remember wondering what I was going to do since he and I lived in a house together and I still needed him to survive. With no hope in sight I made a decision, a decision that would change my life forever, the decision to join the U.S. Marines.
It was a year later; I was on a bus with about 60 other young men heading from an airport in San Diego to boot camp, located at Marine Corps Recruit Depot (MCRD), San Diego. The ride was quiet and I remember looking out the window into a dark night, finally approaching a gate manned b y armed Marines. As the bus went through the gate, I could feel something different in the air but I wasn’t ready for this. AS soon as the bus stopped a Drill Instructor boarded and barked instructions with such force that I could do nothing but listen and obey. After being ordered to exit the bus, I stepped out into a world full of Drill Instructors. I ran and placed my feet on the yellow foot...