: Wilson F. Lowery
: Far From a Soldier How I Signed Up for the US Army to Save My Life and It Almost Killed Me. A Memoir
: Verlagsgruppe Lübbe GmbH& Co. KG
: 9783732515547
: 1
: CHF 6.40
:
: Biographien, Autobiographien
: English
: 240
: Wasserzeichen
: PC/MAC/eReader/Tablet
: ePUB

At some stage, Wilson Lowery's life took a wrong turn. When he finds himself in the hospital after an alcohol and drug-fueled binge, the doctor gives him an ultimatum to either turn his life around, or die.
Depressed and without a safety net, he signs up to become a Green Beret in the U.S. Army. Soon after he enters basic training, he realizes that he isn't cut out for the army and tries to quit, but he isn't allowed to leave. The especially demanding first weeks of training put him over the edge. Constant ridicule, lack of sleep, and excruciating group exercises at any hour of the day become his dark reality. Wilson's outlook worsens when his basic marksmanship training begins. When he shoots at targets, he knows that in his heart he could never kill someone. Wilson refuses to train again, but is still kept on base without an end in sight. His punishment for trying to quit is so intense that he attempts suicide. However, even that doesn't allow him to be immediately discharged from the army and the road is long and full of obstacles until he finally finds his freedom.

About the author

Wilson F. Lowery is a freelance writer and a first-time novelist specializing in creative nonfiction. Wilson's work has appeared on blogs and in independent online magazines. His creativity and passion for writing comes from his personal observations, successes, and failures that he experienced while growing up in Jacksonville, IL, through his formative years after graduating from college. Wilson obtained a B.A. in English from the University of Illinois in Urbana-Champaign, where he currently resides.

Chapter Three
The Phone Call


I slung my bag over my shoulder, this time without any pain. Retracing my steps back to Charlie Company’s courtyard, I arrived to find it empty. The rest of the platoons were still upstairs. I could hear a lot of yelling, the building shaking occasionally. I could tell they were doing some type of exercise, but it just sounded like hundreds of thuds.

I crossed over to the desk outside of the captain’s office and sat down. My eyes were on the tree line, but my thoughts were of home. It seemed distant to me and not just because physically I was hundreds of miles away from it. Part of me wanted to be back there and part of me felt like it was what had pushed me into this mess.

But I knew I couldn’t really blame my town, or my parents, the way I wanted to. I thought back on a lot of what my life was like, wishing I had grown up somewhere else, somewhere less patriotic.

My hometown was full of simple people who felt wars were justified if a President told them there was a good enough reason to fight for their country. All of the residents took great pride in the local Veterans of Foreign Wars and American Legion groups. They also constructed and maintained multiple war memorials—their effort to let all of the town’s veterans know they were supported. Where I grew up, it wasn’t a place for traitors, communists, draft-dodgers, and pacifists. I also started wondering what was going to happen to me. I assumed that the yelling was far from over, but I was prepared for it. I also thought about getting a court martial. I knew I wouldn’t have a case, because I had volunteered for the army, but I still thought it was a possibility. I was determined not to train now, willing to face whatever punishment they gave me in the wake of my decision—even if it meant jail time.

For the first time in a long time, I was proud of myself. I had never made such a monumental decision on my own before. Or at least, I had never stood up for myself the way I did with Sanchez in my face. Up to this point in my life, I’d been told I was a leader, yet I’d never had to make any crucial decisions. Simple choices, sure, but mostly the wrong ones. I almost couldn’t believe I’d done what I just d