A Final Nail in Childhood's Coffin

In 1982 I turned 18. The Viet Nam War was still fresh in everyone's mind, the attack on the U.S. Marine barracks had not yet happened, Grenada was not even in the planning stages yet. Patriotic fervor was far from running rampant among the youth of America, and like so many of my peer group I saw no value to military service. As I grew older my views matured, and by the time the first Gulf War rolled around I was ready to enlist. Not because I wanted to get shot at, or had any romantic notions that my single rifle would stand between Democracy and the Abyss, but simply because I had long since come to understand that some actions simply ought to be undertaken because they are the right thing to do. Two young children, and more importantly the mother of those children, can be very powerful persuaders against voluntary entry into military service. Especially during a time of war.

When the current conflict in Iraq came to a head, the various service branches were all in agreement on one thing - I was too old to be of any use. Opportunity lost. One son and one son-in-law in uniform were the only contributions I had left to make to an obligation I had been too immature to recognize at the time.

On June 22, the United States Army raised the age for enlistment to 42, once again cracking that door open. June 25 I discovered this. June 26 I was researching what would be needed to throw in my lot with the Army, and by June 30 I was at the door of my local recruiter.

Summer vacations can be so inconvenient at times. Between phone calls, email, and sheer persistence I did finally make contact with him, a phone call received on the morning of July 5. He was initially unaware of the details of the change in enlistment requirements, as that change had taken place while he was spending quality time with the family instead of with his employer. He promised to do a bit of research and get back to me. By the early part of that afternoon he called back.


Slamming that particular door forever. It seems that 42 actually means in Basic no later than one week prior to ones 42nd birthday. In many ways, it is far more disappointing to have squandered the legitimate chances given me as a younger man and then had this carrot dangled before me and snatched away than it would have been to get a chance to try and fail.

So the last feeble chance at holding on to youth is finally and formally laid to rest. But! Tomorrow keeps on coming. As long as we keep remembering that simple fact and continue to face the sunrise the opportunities and possibilities are endless.

For all of you who have had the maturity and wisdom to serve, in the past, at present, or during the years to come, thank you and stay well. For all the spouses, children, and parents who support that service and make it possible thank you as well. They could not do it without you in their corner.