Kyle Vautrinot

Something Unpredictable

Sorry that I haven’t written in so long! My computer refused to allow me to upload entries to the blog, so for about a month I was incognito. I apologize profusely for this, and that should not be an issue in the future.

What has happened in the past few weeks...Well, it’s been a bit of a hectic journey. We were brought back to Rook Week for a week because some of our guys had been messing around in the library, and that was something that ticked off all hands. For a while, there was a time that I tried to stay out of barracks for as long as possible, because I knew that there would be some kind of storm brewing. That calmed down, though, after that first week. I don’t know how it worked out, but now every Thursday we have ‘PL Night’ where our lieutenant conducts both chow and sergeant’s time. It’s actually kind of cool—the PL usually just talks with us, motivates us, and gives us counsel. That’s something we all need at this point, with three weeks left until Recognition.

I have started a new tradition for myself during this semester. When I was at the MLK Service Day, I helped out at a church, and found that they did a Friday night dinner for those who were unable to buy food necessary for themselves. I signed up for it, and I’ve already come to love it. The people there, although they are in hard circumstances, are lively and entertaining, and the kitchen crew has its own kind of light humor that offers a relief from what passes for humor on campus. I’ve convinced one of my Rook cousins to go as well, and I think this is something I’ll be doing for the next couple of years.

In terms of academics, well, it has been crazy. With 22 credits to juggle, nothing is simple
anymore. Some of my classes are flying through material, while others are going at a snail’s pace. Of those classes, my Chinese and Criminology classes are by far the most interesting, followed by Middle East history and World Lit I. I was actually surprised by World Lit—a lot of the material is what I have read in high school, both on my own and in class! If I don’t do well on a few certain assignments, I can already hear my AP Senior English teacher screaming in frustration, “Did you not learn anything, idiot recruit!”

One thing that is interesting is what a couple of my cadre are doing in sergeant’s time. The last couple of sessions, we learned, rehearsed, and carried out a mock ambush, with the intent of doing it in the field this Saturday. We’re getting into a lot more of the tactical stuff, as well as learning how to be effective small unit leaders. My hope is that by the culminating event, we’ve practiced and done a couple of the battle drills we’re starting to learn in mil lab. To bring that to the whole platoon, not just the Army kids, would be awesome.

As I mentioned earlier, it is only three weeks till recognition. We’re going to have to stay strong, locked on, and motivated to get through this. I don’t expect the standards to drop, but I do expect that the cadre will start treating us with more respect as we get closer to that day. We’ve gotten this far, and we can last a lot longer!

Safety and Peace,

Kyle

Staying Strong

Winter break has come and gone, and we are all back at Norwich. For a Rook, this is a love-hate period of time. I, personally, will probably find the transition back to ‘Rookie mode’ difficult but not impossible. I will admit that I got lazy over break in terms of sleep and personal habits, but that should change very quickly, I should imagine! The one event I do not want to have occur is the cadre coming down on my platoon because of my faults. That is something I refuse to contemplate or allow.

According to the latest information I’ve gotten hold of, it is a mere seven weeks till the last major milestone in our journey from Rook to Cadet. I am viewing this with ambivalence. I am overjoyed, because that which we have worked so hard for is now just within our reach; I am nervous, because there is still much to do and go through before we can have the title of Cadet bestowed upon us. Part of that nervousness, I believe, is the weather outside, ignorance of what kind of training the Rooks will have, and the class schedule I have decided upon.

We still have the regular duties one would expect: Morning calls, CO, hallway cleaning, as well as standard SOP for the barracks rooms, but I don’t know what sergeant’s time will consist of. During the first semester, it seemed to be more of a ‘beat your faces’ kind of deal. Now…now, I don’t know what to expect. I have heard that we will be learning the finer points of leadership, but I am fully expecting the cadre to continue to play ‘games’. If they don’t, I will be pleasantly surprised, but if they do, at least I was expecting it. At the same time, this first half of the new semester will be considered one of the hardest that the Rooks go through, because there is no reprieve—no holidays, no breaks, almost nothing like that. There are opportunities for us to blow off steam, but those chances are few and far between. I am fully expecting one or two Rooks from each platoon to simply drop and leave, but I am determined to stay the course.

The weather will play a huge part in this. I have been spoiled by the warm winter that Cape Cod is experiencing, and now I am up here in Vermont, where there is snow, single-digit temperatures, and freezing wind. Needless to say, this will be a radical readjustment for me, and I’ll probably curse whatever notion made me want to attend a school in the north. All I can do is to be smart about it, and I should survive relatively unscathed. Improvise, adapt, and overcome, right?

I am determined to tackle this semester like I did the previous one. I came out of the fall semester with a 3.98 GPA and sixteen credits to my name. I am now shooting for twenty-two credits, and I will have to attack my schoolwork with a vengeance if I am to be as successful. Partially, I did so because I want to keep myself out of trouble after recognition; if I know that there is work waiting to be done, I will be less liable to goof off and simply let it pile up on my desk. I am hoping that I can handle the workload, in addition to the other stresses that being a Rook entails. Time shall tell.

A couple of events are coming up that will be worthy of note, and I’ll probably write about them in all due course. The MLK Day of Service is scheduled for this Saturday, and I will attempt to participate in it. The next major event, for me, is the Honors Program dinner. President Schneider has invited the program members for dinner at his residence, and the opportunity it presents is one that I will probably never have again.

Safety and Peace,

Kyle

New Year's Reflections

For the past few years, I’ve had a New Year’s Eve tradition of committing a few thoughts to paper about the previous twelve months, examining my own performance and larger events in the world. In this year, there’s quite a bit to write about, both large and small.

Let’s start with the large events. I don’t think any average person in the US was suspecting that the Arab Spring would arise from one man’s act of self-immolation. When it finally did erupt, it was awe-inspiring and shocking at the same time. Egypt falling to protesters in Tahrir Square, with the military proving it obeyed the Constitution, not the President; overthrows in Tunisia; civil war and NATO airstrikes in Libya; massacres in Yemen and Syria. The Middle East, always a boiling cauldron of trouble and violence, exploded into a bloodbath, but for once there was hope instead of endless despair. At home, the country saw a stand-off between the President and the Republican majority in the house not once, but countless times over the course of the year. Dissatisfaction with Congress reached record highs, and there does not seem to be an end in sight for the current state of affairs. To end the year off on a high note for American forces, the withdrawal from Iraq has been completed, save for units that are staying behind for security purposes at the embassy and various other sites. Unfortunately, we are committing even further in Afghanistan, and the road to victory there seems steep indeed.

As for the small events, well, I guess those would concern me. Graduating from high school, taking my final AP examinations, and running track for the last spring are all memories that marked the transition from high school to college. At the same time, they were also memories that signaled the transition from being a teenager to being an adult, despite the college experiences many of my friends have. There was a rough transition to Norwich at the start, but I think that I adapted well over time, and began to function reasonably well in a military environment. The experiences that I have had at Norwich so far: Rook Week, the first FTX, the Honors seminar, the culminating event, and the holiday dinners are forming the core of a new set of memories, one that promises to be more fulfilling and challenging than ones in previous years. I finished the first semester with an outstanding GPA, and look forward to the challenges that have yet to come.

At the same time, I look at the coming year and cannot help but feel that things will become worse for the country before they improve. The country is gearing up for the presidential election, and it already promises to be one filled with vitriol and grandstanding. From what I can remember, both from elections past and my studies, I do not think that the country has ever been this divided. One can only hope that sanity will be restored, but I personally doubt it. Overseas, in Afghanistan, American and coalition forces face a tough, determined enemy, be it Taliban, al-Queda, or other similar groups. I fear that the bloodshed will simply increase, instead of abating. The problem, as I see it, is that we already have a timetable for withdrawal, while the Taliban and other groups are simply playing a waiting game, and those that survive will be even more cunning and ruthless than their former peers. We may end up creating an even deadlier viper than the one we set out to destroy originally.

It is impossible to predict what may happen in the coming year, much less the coming months, but the one event I can predict is the return to Norwich. Something tells me it will be fast, harsh, and without doubt. The lean time of winter will be facing everyone when school resumes, and the challenge then will be to keep our sanity intact.

Safety and Peace (And a Happy New Year),

Kyle

Ties that Bind

It is only now that I have been home, and seen my friends for the first time since the summer, that I realize how different I am. I hadn’t realized how spot-on my predictions had been—my old friends talked about parties, all-nighters, hangovers the next day, sleeping from eight at night to noon the next morning. I just felt…different. I realized that my staff sergeant was right; I couldn’t ever explain what it was like at Norwich, because they simply had no idea. No idea at all. Don’t misunderstand me, I had a good time with them, but there was always this feeling that I was the piece that didn’t belong, the one who didn’t fit in.

The only person I met over break that did understand me was my cousin, who I’ll just call ‘Squid’. She and I have always been pretty close, and this was the first time I had seen her since July. She had left to go through the Navy’s basic training, and was in A School for Advanced Electronics when she came home for the holidays. I met with her and a few friends for breakfast, and it was as if there were two conversations going on—she and I were swapping stories about our experiences, while the others were talking about their times at college. At first, I didn’t really think much about it, and then I realized what I was seeing: It was the difference between Squid and her friends that revealed a divide in society. When some are going to college, partying it up, sleeping whenever they want, and sometimes blowing off society, there are those who follow a strict schedule, train and learn every day, and ultimately lay their lives on the line for society. To paraphrase a Ranger Up saying, they are part of the .45% that serve others at the risk of the ultimate sacrifice. It put a bit of a damper on my celebration of the holidays, but it was a useful reminder. To know that one of my friends had just been deployed to Afghanistan only made this reflection deeper, and a bit more solemn.

There were still some things that remained the same from high school. A few of my friends still run, and we ran over break, just for old time’s sake. To go blazing through the woods, leaping over logs and rolling over hills, it brought back a lot of good memories. Running is something that has always brought me a lot of enjoyment, and one of the goals I’ve put forth is to come in under 12 minutes for the 2 mile run for the Army’s PFT. Call it a point of pride, but I used to do 5:30s at a minimum for mile times in high school, and I want that to continue through college. It might seem foolish, perhaps even vain, but to a runner the pursuit for lower times is all-consuming; I used to complain about the matter of a few seconds my senior year of high school!

One of the things I have missed is my platoon. I never realized how close I was with the
eighteen other people in 5-2 until I left a week ago to come back to the Cape. The platoon really has become a family for me, and the time we had during finals to bond with each other really brought it home for me. I think we’d be willing to do anything for each other, and I know that whatever I do, my platoon has my back—and I have theirs. That’s something I’ve rarely experienced, and it’s a nice change to know that there are others right there beside me. With any luck, we’ll be able to make it through the long period of January and February.

Safety and Peace,

Kyle

Longest Days of Musing

Now that finals have begun, I have found myself reflecting on the past semester, thinking on what I have done, what I have seen, and what I still have to do. It might seem old-fashioned to think in this manner, but it is something that I have done at the end of almost every year. Have I become wiser? Have I changed during the past year? Have I become a better person? Those are the questions that run through my mind, and they are more important than ever now that I am at Norwich.

When I look back at Rook Week, I can’t help but laugh at myself. I will admit that I was scared out of my wits and as jumpy as a jackrabbit—anytime one of my cadre spoke, I was expecting to hear a loud “WRONG!” come from them. This didn’t happen all the time, but I was expecting to be reprimanded for anything and everything. I was stuck in this mindset for the better part of two weeks into the academic year, right up to Abare. Heck, I still fall into it when I see that the cadre are in a foul mood. It might be a bit of a survival mechanism, for all I know, but I’ve learned to heed that instinct.

What I think is the most obvious, however, is how I have changed since arriving at Norwich. I had respect for authority before I arrived, but authority is everywhere I go on campus. To be aware of that authority, and to know one’s proper place in relation to it, is an aspect of my bearing that is more pronounced now. I stand taller, walk faster, and get to the point much more quickly than I used to. As my staff sergeant keeps saying, “Loud, clear, sharp, and fast!” I used to be a bit of the quiet kid, and took a while to articulate my thoughts. Not any longer. Even when I try to stay quiet, I invariably talk much louder than what a civilian would consider ‘quiet’. Everything is relative, I suppose.

Some of this change is due to the Corps of Cadets, and all the customs embodied in it—saluting, marching, uniforms, SOP, and the general aspects of Rookdom. A lot more credit, though, is due to my knowledge of what my place in the world is. I have been waking up at 0430, 0500 most days now to prepare my rack, hygiene, uniform, and go to class when some of my high school friends are waking up at noon. I don’t go to bed until 2200 at the earliest, when others are partying, getting drunk, or stumbling back to their dorms to pass out. I know that I am part of, if not an elite group, then a very small group that is placing the interests of others ahead of their own, to place their loyalty to the nation first ahead of their friends. As a Rook, you become a brother or sister to the other Rooks in your platoon. The ties that I have forged here, in just one semester, feel stronger and more permanent than any other ties I have made in four years of high school. Should any of my old friends read this, I apologize, but it is true—I feel closer to some people I have met just four months ago than people I have known since sixth grade. I can’t really explain it, but Norwich…it is an experience that only those who have gone through it can understand.

I feel proud of what I have accomplished, even if it is little in comparison to the other cadets here. Pride is a relative thing, and we Rooks take pride out of the smallest accomplishments. Everything that we do is cumulative, from PT to Rook knowledge, from inspections to tactical movements. We are constantly learning, constantly striving to be better. We are inspirations and motivators for each other, and ourselves. We keep the standard in mind and try to meet or exceed it every day. As recruits, we have eyes on us all the time, watching us, evaluating us, judging us. We are the new face of the Corps, and it is imperative that we strive to achieve all that we can. We have only passed Rook Basic, and there is much more to go through, but the potential for achievement is there, not only in my platoon but in both battalions of Rooks. We can see the challenges before us as clear as day, and knowing that we have come so far, we know that failure is not an option, or even a thought. We will strive to conquer, no matter how long it takes us.

As I sit here writing this, I wonder how my old friends will look back on their first semester in college. Will it have been an academic one, holed up in libraries and study rooms? Will they have partied the semester away, looking back on it in a haze? Were there any athletes, focused on the games and practices, leaving little time for study? To think about these outcomes now seems alien, almost foreign, to me. But, I do know this: In light of what I have done and experienced here, I would not trade this semester for any other semester at any other college. Even now, I still believe that Norwich was the right choice for me and my goals in life, and I feel that I will have no regrets about it going into the second semester.

Safety and Peace,

Kyle

Carefree hours, and a touch of holiday spirit

This past week has been one of the most satisfying ones so far this year. I do not know what it was, but everything seemed to go right. Let me start with Saturday. After a long wait and much anticipation, HITS finally had its first range day of the year. This caused a lot of us to all but jump for joy, since it meant we would finally be shooting the pistols we had been mock-practicing with for months. The range was in Barre, and took nearly an hour to get there, but the wait was well worth it. Just to get out from Norwich is a welcome opportunity is well appreciated by any Rook, and to do so for shooting was probably one of the better reasons. I didn’t break any records at the range, but I was happy to see that I still knew how to shoot a pistol fairly accurately, as well as being very familiar with operating it. I think my instructor was a bit surprised that I managed to close the slide by tapping on the magazine, despite what we were told to do. Of course, being at the range wasn’t all firearms: My group successfully executed an L-shaped ambush on the next group arriving in the vans with snowballs. Needless to say, they were a bit astonished that this was actually happening. But, what else would you expect from a bunch of recruits just given a taste of freedom? Once we got back, we watched what is probably the mandatory movie for HITS: SWAT. No matter what, it wants us to get up, kick down a door, and clear a room. Of course, the theme song helps with that!

On Sunday, I did something I hadn’t done in years: Christmas caroling. That’s right, apparently the Rev gets a lot of people, Corps and civilian alike, to go out caroling for Christmas. I didn’t know about it at first; in fact, I had just been intending to go to Catholic Mass that night until I heard what the Rev was doing. I figured, “Why not? It’s not like I’m doing anything.” So, off I went, and I have to say, I think it was worth it. It might seem odd that I would enjoy something like that, but we laughed, told stories, and just got to go out into the community and bring them a bit of holiday cheer. Of course, Mrs. Rev’s cookies were one heck of an incentive for a lot of people to get out, but I’ll just chalk that one up to coincidence!

Now that finals have begun, I find myself slowly slipping into a relaxed mood. I normally wouldn’t do this, but the campus has all but shut down now. Truth be told, I like it. It gives all of us, cadre and freshmen alike, a chance to recharge and focus on academics without having to deal with other things. Well, we do having morning formation, a change from last year, but only a minor one. We do it every weekday; why should this week be any different?

I cannot wait to see my family again. My cousin is coming home from Naval Station Great Lakes, where she is in A school for Electronics; her brother, the musician of the family; my mother and father, who will be getting gifts this year, despite having to wrack my brain without picking theirs; and my friends, who I haven’t seen in a while and am eager to meet. All we have to do is focus on the present, get done what needs to be done, and then disappear.

Safety and Peace,

Kyle

What I am thankful for...

I’ve been at home for a whole week now, and I have found that being home after so long at Norwich helps to put things in perspective. I’ve been away from many things for so long now that I am very surprised by what happens when I am gone. Just today I went down to a beach near my house, and saw how much it had changed since August, when I was last there. The difference between what I had thought of as the beach compared to what wind, wave, and rain had done to it was startling. But, now that I reflect upon the sight, the beach is a lot like life. You can go away for an hour, a day, any stretch of time, and the beach will never be the same when you come back to it. Objects wash ashore and are carried back to the sea; dunes advance and recede by whim of wind and wave; and coastline changes constantly through shifting sand.

One aspect of that was made clear to me when I arrived home: My father had finally returned home from another sea tour, and it would be the first time since August that I would see him. Although we did not exchange the loud greetings that we usually would, I was content to know that my father, the man who had raised me and, quite frankly, has become my idol, was finally home. Sometimes it has been hard when he is at sea, and sometimes it is hard when he is home as well, but he has always occupied a place in my heart, a place that shall never disappear.

When Thanksgiving finally came, I sat down and began to think about what I had to be thankful for this year. I know, it’s a bit stereotypical, perhaps even a bit idealized, for one to think on Thanksgiving about what one should be grateful for. This year, however, I had a lot to be thankful for. My parents, first and foremost, for continuing to support me and encourage me on the path I am on, to become an Army officer. My extended family, for allowing us to gather and share in Thanksgiving, and for continuing to prove that family will always be willing to lend a hand. My friends in the service, for providing the best of role models and sources of inspiration that I draw upon daily. And, this year, I am thankful for being a part of my platoon, knowing that we’ve been looking out for each other thus far, and that we will continue to do so through our years at Norwich. Perhaps most of all, however, I owe a large debt of thanks to God, for giving myself and those around me the strength and courage to persevere; the wisdom and knowledge to make the best decisions; and the morals and kindness to think of others.

I will be back at Norwich soon, back to the routine that I find myself missing, to a degree. Despite being home on Cape Cod, I know that I will be going to my second home when I set foot back on campus. It is only a few short weeks until finals, and after that, home again for a reunion of cross-country runners and old friends. Should they read this, they know who they are.

Safety and Peace,
Kyle

And the Red Poppies Dance

This post is a bit late, but I had to write something in light of what has happened. As most probably know, this past Friday was the 11^th of November, Veteran’s Day. What many people do not know is that the day originally marked the Armistice signed by the Allies and Germany at Compiegne, France, at 1100, 11 November 1918. It has been ninety-three years since that date, and very much has changed since then. What has not changed, however, is something more timeless than a simple date, more enduring than any monument. What has not changed is the nature of the warrior.

The art of war has undergone radical changes in methods and techniques, armament and armor, doctrine and strategy. These advances were all part of a continual evolution of warfare, but one element of warfare has remained constant, at least in the American military. That element is the fighting spirit of our Soldiers, Sailors, Airmen, Marines, and Coast Guardsmen. For decades, our servicemen and women have been putting life and limb at risk, going where no reasonably sane individual would venture, and taking a stand for what they believe in. We have continually taught our troops that they are the best-trained, best-equipped, and most experienced fighting force on the face of the planet. I believe that is true, but there is one aspect that this phrase overlooks.

The courage, selflessness, and willingness to fight for something greater than themselves that our troops display is this aspect that many overlook. Even when the draft was in effect, volunteering was highly encouraged and, in some units, often the only kind of recruit accepted, such as the Marine Corps in World War Two. The key of that espirit de corps lies in volunteering, and that is a hallmark of our military today: Everyone who raises their right hand and swears an oath is a volunteer. It was true of the first minutemen companies in New England; it was true of the soldiers, Union and Confederate, that formed the volunteer infantry regiments of Civil War fame; it was true of the forces assembled for Europe and the Pacific in World War One and World War Two.

Yet, Veteran’s Day is also a day to remember those that swore that oath, shouldered the pack and rifle, and never did make it home. In Britain, immediately after the war and up to the present day, the red poppy was a symbol of those lost in ‘The War to end all wars’, iconic of the early summer campaigns in 1914 and the later pushes through France and Belgium. The red poppy symbolized a lost generation, and its power has not abated after all the years. Today, if you have the chance, take a minute to reflect upon the sacrifices of our men and women in uniform, in our military and in the militaries of our allies. They take on so many burdens, stress themselves to the limit, but do so in the hope that others will not have to. If you meet a veteran, no matter the day or place, thank them for what they have done. Look them in the eye and thank them; let them know that their sacrifices, their choices, have not been in vain.

They shall not grow old, as we that are left grow old:
Age shall not weary them, nor the years condemn.
At the going down of the sun and in the morning,
We will remember them.
--Laurence Binyon (1869-1943), English poet

Safety and Peace,
Kyle

One Step Closer

We wake up at 0530, make our racks and hygiene quickly. By 0600, our platoon sergeant is shouting down the hall. “Be ready to go by 0630!” That kicks the platoon into overdrive. It’s the morning of the Rook Basic Culminating Event, and there’s a kind of anticipation in the cool morning air. We’ve heard whispers about what was going to happen, little rumors about what would happen afterwards. Still and all, we didn’t know quite what to expect—which is exactly how Norwich likes to operate.

From the start, the key theme of the day was physical fitness. No matter how close an event was to the platoon, we double-timed everywhere. From the UP to Sabine, Sabine to Shapiro,
Shapiro to chow…we got in more running in one day than I think many of us get in one week. It wasn’t so much a test of strength as it was of endurance—after all that we had done previously, could we still try to put out our best effort at the current station? That was what the cadre, the battalion staff, the regimental commander, everyone really, were looking for. They wanted to see if we could put aside our fatigue, our illness, our ‘forget this’ attitudes, and drive on to accomplish the objective as a platoon, and ultimately as a class.

I’m not saying that my platoon performed flawlessly; we had our share of incidents and moments that made us want to cringe, if we could break bearing. I found myself thinking, Did someone really just do that? But, there were also moments that make me smile now that I remember them. Charging up Paine with the platoon, seeing each platoon’s stake as another victory gained, another step towards getting a higher standing in the scores, was one of those moments. One of our staff sergeants ran right up with us, yelling at us to move, to jog, to run, but to never walk. If someone had to be carried, we would carry them, by God! We almost made it past the stake indicating first place, but not quite. But, our staff sergeant surprised us by saying, “That was pretty motivating, Second Platoon. I’m proud of you.” To hear those words, you would have thought that someone had just given each Rook a thousand dollars, a weekend pass, and told to go have fun. We got a much-needed morale boost from that, coming after the middle of the day.

In all honesty, the events kind of blend into one another. Even if I could pick out individual events, I’m not sure if I could describe them sufficiently. Saturday was one of those times when, to understand it, one needed to be there. One part does stand clear to me, however. Colonel Debastiani told us that we are now two-thirds of the way through Rook Basic. Our Regimental Room inspections were completed (Passed, by the way.), we had finished our Culminating event, and the only thing left was a test. As soon as he said that, one could almost hear the confusion going through the ranks. I knew that I was wondering what our regimental CO meant by ‘test’: Is it a PT test? Rook knowledge test? An ‘everything’ test? We hadn’t been told about this before, and remember what I said about Rooks—we’re good so long as we know what the plan is. Throw us a curveball, and we don’t know what to do. But, we’ll deal with that as it comes along, just as we have been dealing with everything at Norwich.

It is now less than two weeks till Thanksgiving break, and I’m sure that a lot of parents and Rooks are looking forward to the break. The words of my company CO come to mind, though: Keep it locked on, be motivated, and focus on your academics. If you do that, the weeks will fly. If you don’t, you’re in for one long wait. Considering that registration for the spring semester begins on the 10^th for me, as well as the 12^th being a range day for HITS, I’m more than willing to go ahead and focus on what I was told to do. All I know is that we are one step closer, one step closer to many things.

“We must be willing to let go of the life we have planned, so as to have the life waiting for us.”—E.M. Forster (1879-1970), British novelist.

Safety and Peace,
Kyle

Milestones

Looking over the canal as I drove over the Bourne Bridge, I could think of only one thing. Home. It’s a word that has a kind of instinctive meaning, that this place, more than anywhere else, is where one feels the most secure, the most relaxed, and the happiest. Norwich may have become a second home for me, but I am still a Cape Cod boy at heart. And home, as the old saying goes, is where the heart is.

Mid-semester break was almost a surreal dream, for me. It started at my family’s trivia gathering on Thursday night, which I just barely made. Since my mother hadn’t brought any civilian clothing, I decided to go into the restaurant with my tunic on, even if it did make me look like a runaway bellhop. The second I walk through the door, all sound stops in the restaurant, and everyone looks at me. I was the only person in anything resembling a uniform, and I felt a little self-conscious, but the moment quickly passed as people began to greet me, once they realized that an old friend had come back. That feeling of how different I was, however, lingered in the back of my mind throughout the trivia game.

If Thursday evening had brought that divide to the back of my mind, it was brought to me full force on Friday. I went to my old high school in uniform to talk to some of the teachers I had had my senior year, and to give a talk to a class of seniors about the college application process and what to expect academically. As soon as I set foot on campus, I could almost feel the eyes looking at me. Yes, I was in a uniform, but it wasn’t just my dress—it was how I walked, how I talked, how I acted, really. There were plenty of students at my high school that made me want to cringe at or at least offer a little corrective advice. My teachers were very surprised, I think, at the transition I had gone through. When I made a joke in the style of humor common up here, one of my teachers thought I was deadly serious! I think they were just a little surprised at seeing how the reality of what I was compared to the theory I had discussed with them a year ago, and couldn’t quite understand that there was a gulf between us. I didn’t mention it aloud, but I certainly felt the presence of that gulf that day.

Just being home after so long at Norwich was almost unsettling. Walking along the bike path with my dogs, sitting on the front porch and drinking coffee, watching the evening news…It was almost so far out of my experience that I thought I was in some kind of exhaustion-produced dream. Even when I was in ‘the world’, I never forgot that I would soon be going back to being a Rook in a few days’ time. To simply go home, though, to see my mother and the dogs, to help out with a younger friend’s Eagle project, to enjoy the little things in life for the first time in a while…It was nice. I won’t have the opportunity to do so again in quite some time, but life is like that—one works to gain those moments of peace and quiet. I consider it to be yet another milestone in my journey here as a Rook. The next few are already clear: Regimental Ball, Regimental Inspection, Thanksgiving Break. Here’s to hoping that such milestones will fly by.

Safety and Peace,

Kyle.