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thedrifter
06-08-05, 05:23 AM
Joining Up to Dodge a Dead End
With no hope of a good job or money for college, many heartland teens are enlisting in the military in search of economic security.
By P.J. Huffstutter
Times Staff Writer

June 8, 2005

GLENWOOD, Iowa — Lucas Tvrdy was about to enter high school when his mother, Patty, sat down with his older sister, Jessie, and had the talk.

It was painfully simple, Patty recalled: We don't have the money to send you to college. There were no apologies, no tears. Only resignation.

Like most families in this town 30 minutes southeast of Omaha, the Tvrdys aren't poor — but there is no room in their budget for tuition. Patty works as an administrative secretary for a small city health department; her husband, Randy, worked for himself for many years and only recently has enjoyed a steady paycheck for hauling pet food across Nebraska.

"There were many, many years we raised a family of four on $7 an hour," Patty said. "Even now, we make enough to pay the mortgage and our bills. That's about it."

Jessie, unwilling to take on thousands of dollars in college loans, decided to join the Navy. When she graduated from Glenwood Community High School in 2002, she gave Lucas her senior photograph and this advice: "When it's time, follow me."

Three years later, Lucas is doing just that. The 5-foot-11 teenager, who weighs 110 pounds when wearing combat boots, hopes to learn how to work on ship engines. Or maybe try out for the SEALs.

"It's our way of life," said Lucas, 18. "I could be sent to Iraq. I could die in Iraq. But I'd die a man with good life insurance, so my family would be taken care of."

As the conflict in Iraq heads toward a third year, military recruiters across the country are falling short in their efforts to fill the ranks. But those in struggling heartland towns like Glenwood are making their numbers.

Different reasons draw the teenagers into service: pride in following a family tradition, a sense of honor in defending their country, an overwhelming need to find a focus for their future. In the end, the primary draw tends to be economic security.

Even if they don't agree with the war, financial worries outweigh political opinions. And that has helped recruiters here enormously.

National Guard officials say they are surpassing their recruitment goals in Iowa, although recruits know they are likely to be sent to the Middle East. The Navy, Air Force and Marine Corps say they are meeting their goals. The Army has fallen short, but recruitment numbers have steadily risen each month since May 2004, said Army Lt. Col. Marisa A. Tanner, commander for the Des Moines Recruiting Battalion.

Although their job continues to be difficult, recruiters said, they are having unexpected success in other rural regions in the Midwest and in parts of the South. They cite a sluggish economy coupled with long-standing town traditions of serving in the military.

Glenwood High's Class of 2005 graduated Memorial Day weekend. Nine of its 140 seniors are headed to basic training. Some left almost immediately, while others will be gone by the end of this year.

All but one were minors when they enlisted; their parents had to sign waivers. Two are still 17.

Andy Lentz joined the Marines. Kent Herrman, Ron Rosenburg and Dan Greenwood signed up with the Army. Lucas Tvrdy, Chris Corbett, Wyatt Flint, Loleta Ashburn and Amanda Cerra are Navy-bound.

Lucas expects to leave Glenwood in December. By then, two of his closest friends will be gone.

Kent Herrman, 19, heads out today. Known at school as the tough kid with a quick wit and a quicker temper, he hopes his experience as a wrestler has conditioned his body to withstand the grueling training.

Chris Corbett, 18, will be gone by July 11. Described by teachers as sweetly naive, Chris stood less than 5 feet tall for most of his life until a recent growth spurt stretched his slender frame 6 more inches.

"I've had people tell me they think we're dumb to be doing this — that we're dumb to go off to war," Kent said. "I think they're dumb not to want to."

Their dreams seem modest. Lucas wants to attend an automotive technical school and open a custom motorcycle shop. Chris hopes to attend cooking school and become a chef. Kent longs to get a university degree and become a police officer.

These are heady goals in a town where 9% of adults have a bachelor's degree and the median household income is $39,682 a year, according to the most recent census. In comparison, the median income for Omaha — where many local residents go to find work — is $44,981.




The American Legion post takes up more than a quarter of a block on the town square. Its annual Ham and Bean Feed is a big event. Most storefronts on the square — from the Farm Bureau to the grocery store — have American flags in the windows.

With a population of 5,400, Glenwood is the largest town in rural Mills County, which takes its name from a young officer who died during the Mexican-American War.

Iowa's pride in its military service dates back to the state's formation in the 1840s, said William Johnson, a curator with the State Historical Society of Iowa. During the Civil War, more than 63% of the men old enough to fight joined the conflict. In World War II, the town of Red Oak — about 30 miles east of Glenwood — lost more young men per capita than any other community in the United States.

No one from Glenwood has died in the wars in Afghanistan or Iraq. But since November, at least four from nearby towns have been killed in the Middle East.

"You think of Iowa as very peaceful, a place of farmers devoted to the land. But we're also strong in our devotion to family," Johnson said. "Serving our nation is considered one of those responsibilities that come with being a good family man and, these days, a good family woman."

Glenwood High officials said about three-fourths of its graduates attended college or trade school, while the rest entered the workforce or went into the military.

"Kids in the country know they have to work for what they want," said Patty Tvrdy. Lucas is a "fingernails-get-dirty kind of boy," so Patty wasn't surprised when he enlisted.

Most students want to come back to their hometown, said school Principal Dave Stickrod, but it's difficult to find a job that pays well.

Glenwood's meatpacking plant closed years ago, as did the facility that cleaned uniforms for hotels and other service industries. Family farms struggle to thrive along the rolling hills of the Missouri River valley.

"We're kid-rich and industrial-property poor," Stickrod said.

The few jobs here are often in the healthcare or food service industries. On Tuesday, the Iowa Workforce Development's website listed 11 full-time permanent jobs in Mills County — all but one in Glenwood. Three pay $10 an hour or more. The rest pay $9 an hour or less. Few of the ads mentioned benefits.

Lucas has spent the last months looking for work, to pay bills and keep busy until he ships out. He's chatted up potential bosses. Hardee's was closing for good. McDonalds wasn't hiring.

He stopped by one of his favorite haunts, hoping for better news at Tom & Tiff's, a cafe down the street from one of the town's three stoplights. When Lucas sat down, the waitress didn't bother to ask what he wanted. Regardless of the day or time, Lucas said, the staff brings his usual: French toast and a steady stream of Mountain Dew.

He cut off a hunk of the sweet, hot bread about the size of his hand, folded it into thirds and stuffed it into his mouth.

"Hey, you guys get a chance to look at my application?" he asked, mumbling his question while frantically chewing. "Is there anything available yet?"

The waitress shook her head no.

Lucas sighed and tore off another chunk of bread.




The air burned hot and humid on Lucas' last full day of class. He passed by a cluster of girls leaning against teal-colored lockers, giggling over prom photographs. Some wore T-shirts with the names of their soon-to-be new homes: Iowa State University, University of Nebraska.

continued

thedrifter
06-08-05, 05:25 AM
The chatter was excited, the topics light. Do the dorms have bunk beds? Who's going out for sorority rush?

Lucas straddled a plastic chair in the lunchroom next to Kent and Chris. The teens talked about how to break in combat boots, how much an M-16 weighs and how to write a will.

"I didn't want to have the talk with my parents, but you have to," Kent said. "I told them to give away my things, and have my little sister take care of my dog."

Earlier in the week, Lucas' sister, Jessie — stationed on the aircraft carrier Nimitz — called to wish him luck at basic training. She has signed up for another year to earn more money for college. The three friends are considering doing the same.

"You can never have too much money saved up for college," Chris said.

Chris and his family moved to Glenwood in 1998, and soon after, he and Lucas became friends through the school music classes. Kent and Lucas have been friends since they started school. They both grew up outside of town, living along gravel roads where mile markers are easier to find than street signs.

For as long as Kent can remember, he's wanted to join the Army. As a child, he and friends roamed through the grove of hardwood trees in his backyard, hefting twigs like rifles and pretending they were soldiers. At night, he would lie in bed and dream of becoming a hero.

Recruiters first approached Kent when he was watching an air show at nearby Offutt Air Force Base. He filled out a card to ask for more information about enlisting. Kent was in the eighth grade at the time.

"They said they'd hang onto the card," he said.

When terrorists attacked on Sept. 11, 2001, Kent said, he planted himself in front of a television for hours, feeling shock and frustration at being too young to fight. There was nothing, absolutely nothing, he could do except watch and wait.

Last year, Kent said he contacted the Army, even though he disagrees with the reasons for the war in Iraq. He was the first in his class to enlist and the first in his family for nine generations to join the active-duty military. The reserves held no appeal.

"You're going to be shipped off right away anyway, so why not go for it?" Kent said. "If I can help stop the fighting overseas, why shouldn't I enlist and go do something about it?"




On a recent Saturday night, as the sunset painted the sky in shades of tangerine and turquoise, dozens of cars crammed into a parking lot in front of Newman's Thriftway store. Girls clustered in groups, pretending to look bored.

They sneaked glances at the boys, who spent hours strutting among the vehicles and rehashing stories about sports victories and getting their trucks stuck in potholes. Some of the recruits were among them, happy for these last moments to chat with friends and flirt.

This is the main pastime for Glenwood's teens. There's little else to do in a town with just one movie theater.

The conversation this night revolved around graduation parties and recent breakups. Music thumped so loudly from the speakers of one truck that the rusted door panels rattled. Someone suggested using a fake ID to buy beer and then driving along the back roads. Recent rainstorms left the ground slick, perfect for off-roading in the mud.

Lucas ignored the suggestion. So did his friends. This close to basic training, they couldn't afford to be caught stepping out of line. That meant no drugs (the military routinely conducts drug tests). No traffic tickets (the military could cut them for certain violations). No new tattoos or body piercings.

The recruits didn't speak about the military, the fact that they were leaving or the risks they would face.

"We didn't want the girls to start crying again," Kent said later.




Chris' mother and stepfather — both of whom work at Wal-Mart — didn't want him to enlist. Last summer, a Navy recruiter called the house and asked to speak to Chris. Tracy Nevill told the man her son was not interested.

"I told him, 'You don't need to talk to him.' I didn't want him to get involved in the war," Nevill said. The recruiter persisted. He made arrangements to meet with Chris at home, when his mother was out.

By the time she returned, Chris had been won over.

He told his mother that they spoke of duty and patriotism, of training and travel. School expenses would be paid.

He'd earn enough money to fix up his 1988 Thunderbird and pay for car insurance so he could drive it.

He was determined to go. "He wanted to do this, and I figured that he was old enough to make those sorts of decisions," Tracy Nevill said. She signed a waiver that allowed Chris to join.

"We need the money," Chris said. "I'm proud to earn it this way."

Rachelle Schroeder understands. Her son, Nathan Heitmann, joined the National Guard after Sept. 11. He was sent to Afghanistan; he came home Monday.

Every year for the last five years, at least one of the students who worked at Schroeder's cafe or her landscaping business has enlisted. This year, that student is Chris.

Schroeder, who has known Chris most of his life, spent months teaching him how to nurture lawns and keep fussy plants alive.

"He's 18 years old. He's old enough to make his own choices. He's old enough to be a man," Schroeder said. "But it breaks my heart."

Schroeder said she recently took Chris aside, to make sure he knew what other Glenwood kids had experienced.

Heitmann marched 60 miles a day for three days straight, carrying a 90-pound pack. He had scabies, poison oak and impetigo — all at the same time.

He cleaned the bodies of soldiers who died in a helicopter crash.

"This is what you call reality. Cleaning bodies," Schroeder recalled telling Chris. "Do you realize this?"

Chris remembered replying, "I can handle it."

"Can you?" Schroeder asked.

Chris looked at her. "I have to do this," he said. "I need to do this."

The Drtifter's Wife

Ellie