Why I Fight

Before you get the wrong impression, this is nothing to do with why I am proud (and enjoy every moment) of my martial profession. This is about why I flat out refuse to take "no" for an answer anymore.

August, 1992: I had been awarded a 3-year Army ROTC scholarship out of high school. I knew that I wanted to pursue some sort of military career as well as a college degree - in that order. I had begun shopping schools months earlier, and had decided on Norwich University in Vermont. They'd offered to take my three-year ROTC scholarship and make it a four-year (75% tuition each year) as well as paying for room & board all four years. For a $22,000/yr. private military college, you couldn't really beat that deal - especially given what a crap student I was in high school.

Mom and I drove out to visit the campus all the way from Colorado Springs. We met some faculty & staff. I got fitted for uniforms. We paid my deposit. Everything was locked on, and I was to report for my first day of classes on September 2nd.

Eight days before that, I received a form letter (and I CLEARLY remember that it was printed on perforated computer paper, almost dot-matrix style) signed by a Colonel at the US Army Medical Review Board, stating that the Board had decided to rescind my scholarship offer based on the fact that the specific refractive error in my corrective lenses was too great.

15 months later, after sliding by a year of college out of pocket (and still not applying myself), I shot 323 out of 350 on the Marine Corps Entry-Level Rifle Qualification Course with my M-16A2 at distances up to 500 yards. I wanted to take my "Rifle Expert" badge and mail it back to the Colonel, telling him to stick it up his ass.

April, 1996: After becoming a reasonably "salty" Lance Corporal, I came across some notification or order that solicited applications from enlisted members of the Navy and Marine Corps to apply for appointment to the U.S. Naval Academy. I'd tried the academies in high school, but had a shit GPA, great test scores, and zero extracurricular activities. With almost three years in the Fleet Marine Force, it seemed I'd have better odds. I was correct - Congressman Joel Hefley made me his primary nomination for the Class of 2000.

After all the other pieces were in place, my ACT score of 32 (of 35) was not good enough. Maxed out the reading, English, & science portions of it, but I scored a 26 on the math bit. Minimum required math score was a 27. I called the Chief Yeoman at the Academy and asked if there was any chance of a waiver. She told me there was not. I took no for an answer and kept on truckin', for better or worse - mainly, I think, because I was a complete moron and/or total wuss at the time.

December, 2008: I've applied to the University of Georgia, as alluded to in my earlier writings, because there is no other school I'd rather go to for completing my degree. With the new Post-9/11 GI Bill, I'll be more than able financially to attend full-time, and I feel reasonably certain that I will in no way take the opportunity for granted.

Less than two weeks after submitting my completed application and fee, I recieve a letter saying: "We regret that the credentials which you have submitted with your application do not meet the requirements for admission to the University of Georgia. On the enclosed summary of admissions policies, please note the specific reason, blhablahblah I'm a dirty whore.

(Overleaf)

"You have 30 to 59 transferable hours, and your GPA is less than the required 3.20. Your transfer average as calculated by standard UGA procedure currently is 2.08 on 40 total semester hours, 35 of which are transferable."

I'm already writing. I will respond - first personally to this particular minion, and (if required) later formally to whomever I need to above her head. Fact is, the last time I took any college-accredited course, Bill Clinton was a little over halfway into his first term in office. Also of note is that my tuition is more or less guaranteed for four years (albeit at the meager in-state rate) thanks to my legal Georgia residency and the GI Bill.

This is Setback Number One. I'm full-on looking forward to further setbacks, because I will face them head-on and crush them like a bag of stale Chee-Tos.

The sentence fragment "...somewhat preoccupied for the past few years executing the Global War On Terror both stateside and abroad" will likely appear in future correspondence at some point. FWIW, that is.

I had leave approved specifically for a campus visit last month, and I neglected to take that leave because my NCOs were not on hand for a few days, and I did not want my Platoon running around with no leadership. I'm resubmitting that request tomorrow, and come hell or high water (or Hezbollah, for that matter) I will be in Athens, Georgia in front of someone's desk in about a month's time.

"The Marines have a way of making you afriad - not of dying, but of not doing your job." - Captain Bonnie Little