Last Resort or Bloody Fairytale?

I hate curiosity. It always gets the best of me. No matter how much I refute, like a gnat it encircles me and evades my swatting hands. The white paper in my hand contained that personal information. It was their business. None of my concern, but did that stop me? I don’t feel guilty for it, only remorse for what I found. I was instructed to staple the papers together— a demeaning task in itself. Names and grades at first went thoughtlessly by, just another progress report. It was accidental at first. My eyes met the familiar name followed by the shocking grades. It started then, my bought of curiosity. Down the rabbit hole I went, name after name, failing grade after failing grade. Good kids with GPA’s drilling past rock bottom. They were all familiar from ROTC, the majority planning to go Army after high school.  For the first time I realized that maybe, just maybe some of these really great kids don’t have another future, the Army is one of the few option? I’m in no way saying this is always the case, I know very intelligent people who could have done ALMOST anything they wanted and chose to play war, but it was a too consistent pattern to ignore. I have nothing against the Army, I actually enjoy the structure and leadership opportunity, but it isn’t my kind of lifestyle. It was disappointing or saddening really. I can’t help but wonder, is the Army a last resort or only option for these kid, or is my bloody nightmare their fairytale?


One thought on “Last Resort or Bloody Fairytale?

  1. Remarkable! Its truly remarkable post, I have got much clear
    idea about from this post.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s