D minus 1

FORT HOOD, TX—The 30-minute drive from my apartment in Belton, Texas to Fort Hood was different this time. I don’t know what it was...maybe the huge cup of coffee I purchased at the Texas Java Coffee House around the corner from my now-empty apartment. All I know is that as I was driving in to work, I could feel my heart pounding in my chest. The sudden sense that this was really going to happen washed over me. I could feel my pulse in my temples and in my fingertips. It seemed to take forever to reach post.

Butterflies were flapping their wings in my stomach as I pulled into the parking lot in front of our building -- swarms of soldiers milling about. Golf Company (one of the units in my battalion) was leaving today. My unit -- Thunder Battery -- was leaving tomorrow.

I looked around as I parked the car in front of the building that served as headquarters for our battery: soldiers were wandering around, saying goodbye to their families, clinging to a last warm embrace. The black metal of rifles slung over the back glinted in the sunlight. It was a sobering sight, and did nothing to allay the increasing sense of anxiety within me.

A long line of soldiers carrying duffel bags and rucksacks was snaking around a cordoned-off area of the parking lot. At the head of the line was a desk manned by a few NCOs, and a scale. Soldiers would check off their names, and drop their bags on the scales. Seventy pounds per bag was the limit. A handful of soldiers were off to the side, carefully rearranging their bags -- re-distributing items between their duffel and ruck to meet the weight restrictions.

I was a first-time go at the station -- I packed according to the packing list, and although I had my doubts, both bags made weight. After throwing my bags in into the container truck marked with our battalion, the Red Dragons, I made my way over to a fellow LT, Jeff. He dropped the tailgate of his Chevy pickup, and we sat there in the sun, watching and waiting for our soldiers to finish making their way through the baggage station.

Jeff's whole family -- parents, sister -- and his fiance were there. I stood to shake hands and introduce myself when they approached. The other LTs, Chris and Albert also made their way to the truck, accompanied by their fiance and girlfriend, respectively. Our commander and his wife joined the party as well. It was like a tailgating party, minus the beer, burgers and football game.
By this time, the butterflies had disappeared. It wasn't until after formation, and after I had made arrangements with a local storage company (for my car) that the strange anxiety came back... Even with all of the training that I had undertaken with my unit in the preceding seven months, I could not shake the fact that I was once again headed into unknown territory. Never before had the responsibility of the soldiers' lives under me become more salient than now.

I spent the night grabbing a couple of last beers at a restaurant just down the road from my apartment, and moving the last boxes into my storage unit. Caught a couple hours of sleep on a cot (the bed had been packed into the storage unit weeks ago), next to my last remaining possessions: the uniform I'd be wearing, a pair of boots, my assault pack, and my car keys.