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Summer 2012

I received orders to join the 10^th Mountain Division, 87^th Infantry in Stuttgart, Germany. It is a light infantry. On the evening of September 1, 2012, I boarded the Lufthansa flight at Dulles International Airport and arrived the next day in Stuttgart to report for duty at the Army base.

As a second Lieutenant, I am at the low end of the army management totem pole. I don’t see a possibility for deployment to the ongoing wars in Iraq and Afghanistan yet, but one never knows. I’m not sure what I am supposed to be doing here exactly. What responsibilities will I have? What if the Army changes its mind and sends me to active duty in the war zone, and no one listens to my orders? I am a brown young man among mostly white men. What if they don’t accept me as one of them, as Dad had warned?

I learned a great deal during the ROTC program and participated in simulated exercises. But is that going to be enough in the real world?

I stay awake at night. I realize now is not the time to lose confidence. Now is the time to prove what I have been dreaming about, and that is to be a good soldier.

I share an apartment in the Kelly Barracks with another young soldier called Logan. He is from Indianapolis. Luckily, we have similar interests. That will make our living together easier. That is a good thing.

The base has a gym, a bowling alley, and a commissary to buy groceries. For married soldiers, there are separate units, and there is a school for their children. There is a library. It looks like there are several restaurants and bars in the vicinity of the base.

The Army is an enormous unit of the United States Department of Defense. I need to get to know the intricate Army organizational structure, various protocols and rules, and regulations. There is a lot for me to learn about military operations. Maybe that’s why, at least for the first few days, I have to perform administrative duties. It is like being a freshman trainee in a large corporation.

We are learning what it is to be an active-duty soldier from the reports we get from the deployed units far away in Afghanistan. We are required to analyze them and, in the process, learn about intelligence operations.

I call home after I have settled in.

“Arjun beta,” Mom says. “I was expecting your call. Why didn’t you call sooner? It has been what, more than two weeks since you left?” Mom is on a speaker phone. I guess she did that so Dad could also listen.

“I was getting settled here, Mom. It takes a while. I told you not to worry about me every day.”

“I know. It’s easy for you to say. Tell me everything. Where are you staying? Did you make any friends? Are you eating well?”

“Yes. Don’t worry, Mom. This place is like a small town. “

“Are you staying alone?”

“No, I have a roommate. His name is Logan.”

“Logan? Where’s he from?”

“Indianapolis. He’s nice. We got along very well right from the first day.”

“That’s nice to know,” Dad interjects.

I tell Mom and Dad about the Army base and our daily routine. We close our call with both of them asking me to stay in touch and call them often.

A couple of months later, I am told that I will be leading a platoon of forty-three soldiers. My platoon will have rifle squads, one squad of heavily armed riflemen, a radiotelephone operator, a medic, and a platoon sergeant. I feel the weight of my new responsibilities. My first step in being a leader. I am excited, at the same time, a bit intimidated.

Each squad has a mix of enlisted soldiers of various ethnic backgrounds and skill levels, headed by a squad leader. It is my responsibility to keep my platoon deployment ready at a moment’s notice. That means they need to be trained in weapons handling and upkeep, and keep themselves physically fit. I need to develop a curriculum and ensure that the platoon maintains the Army discipline without losing morale. The memory of my time as a platoon leader at the Army Advanced Training Camp at Fort Knox makes me realize that this is no simulated exercise. This is the real thing. 

I mentally pray to Lord Ganesh, as mom often did, to give me strength to fulfill my duties. Luckily, I have an experienced platoon Sergeant to assist me. His name is Horace Wigley. He is from a small town called Shoal Creek in Alabama. He has served in the Army for over thirty years as a non-commissioned officer. Horace is not very tall but husky. He does not smile readily. I first had some difficulty understanding him because of his southern drawl. I am hoping he is not a Rodriguez clone. But it shouldn’t matter. This time I am the boss.

My life is going to be challenging, I say to myself. A southern gentleman to work for a twenty-something, freshly minted, college-educated brown kid. Hey! Don’t think ahead; stay positive. Remember, you are now a soldier and a leader. Isn’t that what you always wanted to be? Otherwise, you should have been an engineer like your dad wished.

To read chapter 28 click here. https://wp.me/p2b25R-kP