We loaded off the bus and into the camp. The air was filled with smoke and smelled like beer and weed. we got in a alphabetical line. A fight broke out between two soldiers. The General rushed up to them, punched them both, they fell to the floor "This isn't girl scout's camp. You can either walk back to where you came from, or you can get it together, and look and see the real world. DO YOU HEAR ME?" He screamed. They both nodded their heads and got back in line.
The General called attendance, It seemed like an hour before he was done.
He assigned 20 people to a cabin. when we walked in. there was 10 bunk beds, sweaty feet smell, 5 cases of beers, and to follow, empty beer cans laying around. It was dark in here.
We put our bags by our beds, and we trailed off the the cafeteria to get our heads shaved. It was weird seeing the men who originally had Afro's get a buzz cut. Am I really doing this? Am I really ready to put my life at risk?
After each person was done with their hair cut, we went to our cabins, to sit down, get to know each other and drink a beer or 2.
"My Grandfather was killed in world war 2"
"My father was kidnapped and brutally murdered in a war"
"Really?"
"Yeah...." I put my head down to end the conversation, one more word about my father, and I was going to cry. I already had enough talk about my father's disappearance when I was 14, because it was all over the news, and I remember coming home crying myself to sleep, and playing ball by myself. I was taken to a depression group to get over my sadness from my father. It almost cured me, but then came the teachers and students during class making me go in front of class to talk about my father. And wanting him to just come back even for a day.
