As I made my decision to leave the US Army, I was struggling to deal with the many options that were laid out in front of me. Should I stay? Or should I go? The vast majority of my superiors, bosses, and peers were all begging me to stay. "You're the subject matter expert on XYZ!" They would all say or "you're going to just leave after 10 years? It's only another 10 until you can retire!" "What a silly concept!" I would always think to myself. "10 years? Do you have any idea how long 10 years is?" Could I really subject myself to another 10 years of month-long training cycles, pre-deployment preparations, and countless could nights in the woods of who-knows-where? The first 10 years had already seen three combat deployments, two to Iraq and one to Afghanistan, as well as a failed marriage and a son who until recently lived 1,500 miles away whom I did not see very frequently as a result of my job. When I was injured in Afghanistan (I had torn my labrum in my left shoulder) I was promised that I would be taken care of. As it came time for me to make my decision it was almost easily made for me. "Take care of me?" I thought as I laid by myself in a hospital bed, post surgery, "They couldn't even care enough to submit my paperwork on time!" It was true, I had filled out several request forms to defer my reporting date to Fort Polk, Louisiana by 60 days, two forms to be exact, both of which were lost by the battalion S-1 (that's human resources for you non-military types) not to mention the cancellation request I had put in for the assignment, which was approved by my battalion commander, yet subsequently denied by his boss, the brigade commander. The people who had promised to take care of me, had all but made my decision for me. Several days into my post-surgical recovery time I received a call from my big boss, the company First Sergeant, who was explaining to me that I was a failure to report at my gaining unit at Fort Polk. "Well I guess they didn't process that final request from before I went into surgery." I thought to myself. "What are my options?" I asked the First Sergeant. He took his time explaining that my only options were to attempt another deferment request with a memorandum justifying it's lateness, report immediately to the assignment in Louisiana, or sign a DCSS. A DCSS is a form in the military, the acronym stands for "Declination of Continued Selected Service" and what that means is your career is over, once signed the DCSS prevents you from being promoted, or re-enlisting, after signing you are basically just riding out whatever amount of time you have on your contract and will receive and honorable discharge, granted that you can behave for the amount of time remaining on said contract. I was so frustrated by this point, I agreed to come into work and sign the DCSS, and boom, just like that. 10 years, over.
The next thought that came into my head as I went back into work about two weeks later, was "what the hell am I going to do now?" I would soon be turning 30, and the past 10 years of being an infantry soldier, who's job is to close with and destroy the enemy by direct or indirect fire, had provided me with no college education and no experience to draw on for the civilian job market. Looks like I am going back to school!
The next thought that came into my head as I went back into work about two weeks later, was "what the hell am I going to do now?" I would soon be turning 30, and the past 10 years of being an infantry soldier, who's job is to close with and destroy the enemy by direct or indirect fire, had provided me with no college education and no experience to draw on for the civilian job market. Looks like I am going back to school!
