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When I first got to basic: a thread.
I was on a bus at some ungodly hour of the morning and when I finally got to Lackland, a MTI (military training instructor) got on the bus and said:
YOU'VE GOT EXACTLY 30 SECONDS TO GET OFF MY BUS AND 20 HAVE ALREADY PASSED. GET THE FUCK OFF MY BUS NOW NOW NOW
So we got off and we're shuffled off into an auditorium. God forbid we speak or move without permission. Then the vetting began. "WHO PLAYS AN INSTRUMENT?"
Someone said "Guitar, sir!"
"SIT THE FUCK DOWN"
"Piano, sir!" He was met with "SIT DOWN." I stood up and said "Trombone and baritone, sir!"
"MOVE TO THE RIGHT." So I went to the right side of the auditorium. This continued until there were no more viable musicians left. Then the MTI asked "WHO CAN BENCH 250 OR MORE?"
A few of the muscle heads stood up (very proud, obviously). They were definitely built. I didn't understand what was going on. Why would he ask that? Then the MTI said "MOVE TO THE RIGHT."
Coincidentally, we had enough people for a flight. But not just any flight--a Band flight. The "muscle heads" were meant to carry the heavy drums, assuming they could keep a simple beat.
And they did. And we worked together. People from completely different life paths and jobs applied for in the military. We became friends--brothers. We never would have know each other if not for the military.
After living together for 8.5 weeks, we went on to earn awards that were previously unattainable for our rookie MTI. We worked together. Our differences brought us together--band geeks and jocks.
While other flights got more time to drill in order to prepare for their official evaluations, we practiced music. AND parade formations. AND our requisite street drills (like everyone else). And still won more accolades than the rest.
Don't tell me our differences are too much for us to overcome. I've seen it in action. I've seen what Americans can do when we work together, even though we have NOTHING in common. I've seen what unity looks like. And I still believe in it now.
