thedrifter
07-27-08, 06:10 AM
Recruits line up at Dallas processing station to kick off military careers
12:47 AM CDT on Sunday, July 27, 2008
By DANIEL MONTEVERDE and ERIC AASEN / The Dallas Morning News
Every weekday like clockwork, before the sun rises, busloads of young men and women arrive at an inconspicuous building in downtown Dallas.
Some slouch in their seats, dressed in jeans and T-shirts, seemingly not a care in the world. Others are more earnest, wearing ties, hands folded, eyes wide open.
Meet the military's next generation.
Their tour officially begins not in a military camp, but in the Military Entrance Processing Station on Houston Street, one of 65 across the country.
There, in the Federal Building, about 20,000 applicants undergo aptitude and medical tests each year, making it the second busiest in the country.
These days, it's especially busy – officials call it the summer surge.
It's at the processing station that the raw recruits get their first taste of military life. Just after 5 o'clock, at the back dock, a hard-nosed captain barks out instructions:
"Have your ID ready."
"Take out your piercings."
"Don't be sleeping."
"Keep your feet off the furniture."
It's starting to sink in: They're not civilians anymore.
"It's the biggest decision of their young lives, a monumental decision," says Lt. Col. T.J. Edwards, commander of the Dallas station.
"It's got to be one of the best."
Start of a journey
Every military recruit has a different reason for wanting to join.
Richard Mayfield, 18, thinks the Army is his ticket to a college education and eventually a spot on the Dallas Police Department's SWAT team.
It was a whirlwind journey to get this far. An Army recruiter showed up on his doorstep only a couple of days before.
The quick decision had been weighing on his mind, leaving him a tad nervous. But the Berkner High School senior is certain he's making the right move.
"I'm proud to be a member of the U.S. Army," he says. "It brings a smile to my face every time I look at my papers."
The military is in Connetto Franklin's blood. She has relatives in the Navy and Marines. Ms. Franklin, 19, wants to join the Army.
As a fifth-grader, she approached a military officer, asking him what it takes to join.
"Some sit around and wait," Ms. Franklin said. "I want to go out there and get it.
"I'm ready to be on my journey."
Tests and more tests
Through the morning, recruits spill out of elevators and onto the fourth floor of the Federal Building to begin hours of testing.
The station resembles an airport, the waiting room at the driver's license office and a nurses' station.
Around 6 a.m., Mr. Mayfield and a handful of recruits head into a soundproof booth, making small talk as they sit on stools, waiting for their hearing tests.
Through the morning the exams continue:
Blood pressure readings. Vision checks. A medical briefing. A Breathalyzer test. A doctor's visit, fingerprints and, ultimately, a meeting with a military official to apply for a job.
A phalanx of about 50 medical, military and office workers watch the clock to keep the recruits moving.
On this day – when 103 applicants will be processed for all branches of the military – the squad arrives about 10 minutes late, and staff members already are worried about snowballing delays.
Ready to serve
Not everyone who enters the processing station will be eligible to enlist. Those who do pass the tests won't necessarily be sent to the front lines.
But during this time of war, it's always in the back of their minds.
Trent Click of Arlington says he'll be ready if he has to enter a combat zone. That's what he's been built for, the 19-year-old says.
He enjoys the endorphin rush he gets from running, and he thinks he'd build lasting friendships, buddies to watch his back in a war zone.
Mr. Click, who wants to be an Apache helicopter pilot, is joining the Army.
"I'm excited," he says. "I'm finally doing it."
Marcel Duhart, an 18-year-old from Killeen, has more practical reasons for joining the Air Force.
"I wasn't doing anything with my time or myself," he says. "I felt it was the best choice."
As the day wears on, some of the recruits are getting sleepy, sprawling out on couches in front of a large TV. Others play pool or arcade games.
The scene is much more formal and final in a nearby room, lined with a deep-blue curtain, red carpet, wood-paneled walls and flags.
Shortly after 9 a.m., Maj. Ron Spears, who has served 26 years in the Marines, enters the quiet room and crosses his arms as he stands next to the podium. Lined up in front of him are Mr. Click and a few others.
They raise their hands and repeat after Maj. Spears:
"I ... do solemnly swear, that I will support and defend the Constitution of the United States against all enemies, foreign and domestic. ... So help me God."
Col. Edwards says some think today's young people are all about themselves, stretched out playing their Xboxes.
He sees new recruits every day, and he sees men and women who are selfless. It's in their faces.
"It's heartening to see," he says.
Reality strikes
At 32, Jeremy Young is among the older recruits in this bunch, but he's just as eager as his younger counterparts to join the Army Reserve.
His mother, Kim Young, is near tears as she sits in the cafeteria. She doesn't like the thought of her son leaving his 9-year-old daughter behind and potentially going into combat.
"I don't want to sacrifice my son," the Arlington woman says. "If I thought he was dusting the colonel's office, I'd be OK. It worries me."
That reaction doesn't surprise Virginia Cano. The Red Cross volunteer serves cookies, coffee and pep talks to nervous parents.
Her son is serving in Iraq, and her daughter and son-in-law are Marines.
"Once you see them in the uniform," she tells the parents, "you'll forget everything."
During the morning of testing, these young men and women don't have much time to think about what could be a life-changing decision. It's the night before when, for most, reality strikes.
Many spend the night, paid for by the military, at the Crowne Plaza on Stemmons Freeway, where they meet the buses the next morning.
At the hotel, in a large room set aside for recruits, applicants lounge on a brown leather sofa before the 11 p.m. curfew, watching a large high-definition TV playing Scrubs and Family Guy. Laptops and video games rarely see a break in action.
Shortly before 9 p.m., Anthony Mendoza, 18, wraps up a card game. The Fort Worth resident says he's back at the hotel for the second time in a week.
He was about to ship out for Army basic training a few days ago, but there was no room on the plane.
His family was there to see him off the first time. This time, he's going solo.
"I told them, 'Save the tears,' " Mr. Mendoza says.
So again he sits, and waits. He thinks about what he's leaving behind: his 8-month-old son and his wife of five days.
"The only thing I'm going to regret leaving is my little boy's life," he says. "I'm gonna miss his first birthday, maybe even his first Christmas.
"But I'll be able to give him what he wants."
Next stop
Even a workout in the hotel gym doesn't help Mr. Duhart, the 18-year-old from Killeen, get to sleep.
But the next morning, he feels good as he nears the end of his application process. Soon, he'll know what he's "going to become."
He walks into the ceremony room to take his oath.
He wants to head out for basic training now. Instead, he's going to hang out with friends and family in Killeen.
Mr. Duhart doesn't know when he'll ship out for basic training. But one thing is sure.
"I'm going to sleep better tonight."
Ellie
12:47 AM CDT on Sunday, July 27, 2008
By DANIEL MONTEVERDE and ERIC AASEN / The Dallas Morning News
Every weekday like clockwork, before the sun rises, busloads of young men and women arrive at an inconspicuous building in downtown Dallas.
Some slouch in their seats, dressed in jeans and T-shirts, seemingly not a care in the world. Others are more earnest, wearing ties, hands folded, eyes wide open.
Meet the military's next generation.
Their tour officially begins not in a military camp, but in the Military Entrance Processing Station on Houston Street, one of 65 across the country.
There, in the Federal Building, about 20,000 applicants undergo aptitude and medical tests each year, making it the second busiest in the country.
These days, it's especially busy – officials call it the summer surge.
It's at the processing station that the raw recruits get their first taste of military life. Just after 5 o'clock, at the back dock, a hard-nosed captain barks out instructions:
"Have your ID ready."
"Take out your piercings."
"Don't be sleeping."
"Keep your feet off the furniture."
It's starting to sink in: They're not civilians anymore.
"It's the biggest decision of their young lives, a monumental decision," says Lt. Col. T.J. Edwards, commander of the Dallas station.
"It's got to be one of the best."
Start of a journey
Every military recruit has a different reason for wanting to join.
Richard Mayfield, 18, thinks the Army is his ticket to a college education and eventually a spot on the Dallas Police Department's SWAT team.
It was a whirlwind journey to get this far. An Army recruiter showed up on his doorstep only a couple of days before.
The quick decision had been weighing on his mind, leaving him a tad nervous. But the Berkner High School senior is certain he's making the right move.
"I'm proud to be a member of the U.S. Army," he says. "It brings a smile to my face every time I look at my papers."
The military is in Connetto Franklin's blood. She has relatives in the Navy and Marines. Ms. Franklin, 19, wants to join the Army.
As a fifth-grader, she approached a military officer, asking him what it takes to join.
"Some sit around and wait," Ms. Franklin said. "I want to go out there and get it.
"I'm ready to be on my journey."
Tests and more tests
Through the morning, recruits spill out of elevators and onto the fourth floor of the Federal Building to begin hours of testing.
The station resembles an airport, the waiting room at the driver's license office and a nurses' station.
Around 6 a.m., Mr. Mayfield and a handful of recruits head into a soundproof booth, making small talk as they sit on stools, waiting for their hearing tests.
Through the morning the exams continue:
Blood pressure readings. Vision checks. A medical briefing. A Breathalyzer test. A doctor's visit, fingerprints and, ultimately, a meeting with a military official to apply for a job.
A phalanx of about 50 medical, military and office workers watch the clock to keep the recruits moving.
On this day – when 103 applicants will be processed for all branches of the military – the squad arrives about 10 minutes late, and staff members already are worried about snowballing delays.
Ready to serve
Not everyone who enters the processing station will be eligible to enlist. Those who do pass the tests won't necessarily be sent to the front lines.
But during this time of war, it's always in the back of their minds.
Trent Click of Arlington says he'll be ready if he has to enter a combat zone. That's what he's been built for, the 19-year-old says.
He enjoys the endorphin rush he gets from running, and he thinks he'd build lasting friendships, buddies to watch his back in a war zone.
Mr. Click, who wants to be an Apache helicopter pilot, is joining the Army.
"I'm excited," he says. "I'm finally doing it."
Marcel Duhart, an 18-year-old from Killeen, has more practical reasons for joining the Air Force.
"I wasn't doing anything with my time or myself," he says. "I felt it was the best choice."
As the day wears on, some of the recruits are getting sleepy, sprawling out on couches in front of a large TV. Others play pool or arcade games.
The scene is much more formal and final in a nearby room, lined with a deep-blue curtain, red carpet, wood-paneled walls and flags.
Shortly after 9 a.m., Maj. Ron Spears, who has served 26 years in the Marines, enters the quiet room and crosses his arms as he stands next to the podium. Lined up in front of him are Mr. Click and a few others.
They raise their hands and repeat after Maj. Spears:
"I ... do solemnly swear, that I will support and defend the Constitution of the United States against all enemies, foreign and domestic. ... So help me God."
Col. Edwards says some think today's young people are all about themselves, stretched out playing their Xboxes.
He sees new recruits every day, and he sees men and women who are selfless. It's in their faces.
"It's heartening to see," he says.
Reality strikes
At 32, Jeremy Young is among the older recruits in this bunch, but he's just as eager as his younger counterparts to join the Army Reserve.
His mother, Kim Young, is near tears as she sits in the cafeteria. She doesn't like the thought of her son leaving his 9-year-old daughter behind and potentially going into combat.
"I don't want to sacrifice my son," the Arlington woman says. "If I thought he was dusting the colonel's office, I'd be OK. It worries me."
That reaction doesn't surprise Virginia Cano. The Red Cross volunteer serves cookies, coffee and pep talks to nervous parents.
Her son is serving in Iraq, and her daughter and son-in-law are Marines.
"Once you see them in the uniform," she tells the parents, "you'll forget everything."
During the morning of testing, these young men and women don't have much time to think about what could be a life-changing decision. It's the night before when, for most, reality strikes.
Many spend the night, paid for by the military, at the Crowne Plaza on Stemmons Freeway, where they meet the buses the next morning.
At the hotel, in a large room set aside for recruits, applicants lounge on a brown leather sofa before the 11 p.m. curfew, watching a large high-definition TV playing Scrubs and Family Guy. Laptops and video games rarely see a break in action.
Shortly before 9 p.m., Anthony Mendoza, 18, wraps up a card game. The Fort Worth resident says he's back at the hotel for the second time in a week.
He was about to ship out for Army basic training a few days ago, but there was no room on the plane.
His family was there to see him off the first time. This time, he's going solo.
"I told them, 'Save the tears,' " Mr. Mendoza says.
So again he sits, and waits. He thinks about what he's leaving behind: his 8-month-old son and his wife of five days.
"The only thing I'm going to regret leaving is my little boy's life," he says. "I'm gonna miss his first birthday, maybe even his first Christmas.
"But I'll be able to give him what he wants."
Next stop
Even a workout in the hotel gym doesn't help Mr. Duhart, the 18-year-old from Killeen, get to sleep.
But the next morning, he feels good as he nears the end of his application process. Soon, he'll know what he's "going to become."
He walks into the ceremony room to take his oath.
He wants to head out for basic training now. Instead, he's going to hang out with friends and family in Killeen.
Mr. Duhart doesn't know when he'll ship out for basic training. But one thing is sure.
"I'm going to sleep better tonight."
Ellie