Want to force a group of total strangers to work as a unit? Throw them in a barracks, take away nearly all contact with anyone not in that group and make them work together for 9 weeks. Throw in a bunch of authority figures screaming and yelling at everyone and mission accomplished. After more than 200 years, this country’s military has it down to a science.

To say basic training was culture shock is downplaying it. I had spent my last few months of freedom partying and smoking two packs of Marlboro reds a day. A lot of other people had spent it working out and getting ready. But I was quick to adapt and even had a good time, with the exception of the nights we spent sleeping outside in a tent made of two shelter halves.

The journey from civilian to soldier is only nine weeks long, but in that nine weeks I learned so much. I learned how to take apart and clean my weapon, how to create a semi-dry place to sleep with only the light from stars and the moon, and how to keep myself motivated and working even when my mind and body were so tired I wanted to collapse. There was never a time to rest. Even on Sunday mornings, when the other platoons in my company were enjoying some personal time and a chance to chill, my platoon was on the drill pad getting a preview of the next week’s training. My drill sergeant wanted to make sure we were more than prepared. Especially since the War on Iraq had officially begun on March 18, 2003, not five weeks after we got to training.

Basic training culminated with a three day and two night field training exercise we would have to march to and from, starting hours before dawn. The memories from this are the most vivid for me. This is when we were tested on everything we had learned during the previous weeks. But it wasn’t all work. Or at least it didn’t seem that way. Somewhere after midnight on the first night, we were attacked. The drill sergeants, deciding to have some fun with us, kidnapped a couple soldiers. It was on from there, with us trying (and failing) to kidnap a drill sergeant the next night.

Waking up that third day left us with one more task to complete before we officially met the requirements to pass basic training. A 15 km ruck march with full gear. While waiting for the other platoons to get ready, my platoon was given a chance to rest in the shade and actually relax. After nine weeks together, we’d all gotten to know each other pretty well and before long a few of the more comedic soldiers in the unit began doing their impressions of other soldiers and of our drill sergeants and commander. Luckily, the drill sergeants were in a good mood, not only laughing along but making the soldiers do their impressions of people from other platoons over the radios so the other drill sergeants could enjoy them as well.

I think they were just letting us have a little fun because they knew how much the rest of our day was going to suck. Around 8 p.m., we set out to walk back to the battalion area. Mind you, 15 km is 9.3 miles, so it wasn’t going to be an easy or a fast walk. It was hard and often the only thing that kept my feet moving was knowing that when it was over I’d be done. And I’d get to finally sleep. Exhausted, tired, sweaty and cold we arrived back shortly after midnight, only wanting to sleep, and were told it would have to wait. There was a formation once all the companies had returned and one more was still on their way.

Not knowing what we were in for, we dropped gear, turned in our weapons and head up to the battalion field. But it didn’t look like the same field we spent our mornings exercising in. Instead, there was a large projector screen, a podium, the battalion guidon and an American flag. This wasn’t just a formation but a ceremony to celebrate another cycle of civilians becoming soldiers.

I wish I could describe how emotional that night was for me. And how motivating it was. I don’t remember a single thing that the battalion commander said in his speech. I don’t remember a single image from the video we watched. But I also don’t remember how tired I was that night. All I remember was how proud I was to have finally accomplished something in my life. How excited I was when my drill sergeants came up to me and congratulated me for making it through training.

The next week was spent cleaning our gear and rehearsing for the final graduation. There was excitement in the air as we all got ready to walk across the field at graduation with our families watching. We were finally soldiers.