The bus ride would never be long enough. When it was over, uncertainty abounded like never before. Jus had lived like he was pulling the handle on a slot machine, waiting to see what the next moment would bring, but this. This was someone else who was totally in control. His over-the-top form of diplomacy scanned for ways to blend in without making waves. He would find out quickly that that was not even possible.
When the doors opened, it was cold outside. He shuffled out into the slushy snow on the ground. Screaming voices barked orders from all directions, and he and his travelling companions were taken to quickly eat and given a bunk to sleep on. Voices and footsteps echoed through the cement-block hallways.
Jus dreamt about this back in December. But in the dream, he was hiding in a closet, and the same noises he heard now were around as he hid. Maybe it wasn't him in the closet. Perhaps it was someone else. Whoever it was, they were troubled, deeply. They were very alone. One thing was certain: Jus was alone now, too. He also knew now that the answer to the question when he woke up in his bed this morning was clear: this is where he would be tonight.
Fluorescent lights turning on at 4 am is one of the most significant levels of cruelty you will ever experience. The boy jumped out of the bunk as forceful voices screamed at them, as if the building were on fire. He and a large group of people he didn't know were hurried to the showers, then to breakfast, and finally to a desk, where he was surrounded by many others. He learned very quickly that he had been lied to. Belongings that he thought he could bring on this journey with him to make it easy, even his final addiction, were contraband and had to be surrendered.
As the hours passed, the things that made him who he was—an individual—were taken away one after the other. Incredible threats were outlined that any attempt to turn back now would simply lead to an even worse life in prison. There would be no, "this is not for me." Forward was the only way. Last year's breakdown and rebuild, the assassin and his surety, believing that all change was possible, were entirely knocked off balance. None of it could be used. This was an unforeseen rebirth of which he had no control. When his old man had heard that he had done such a thing, he told Jus, "Well...That will be an experience." It was another way of asking him if he had lost his mind.
The riot act kept coming with every room visited, every stripping down of facade and attitude. Jus was with people he would spend the next few months with and, fragmentally, a lifetime with. Because so much had been taken from them, they only had to look forward to eating meals, which was a 3- to 5-minute experience, and so it happened with incredible savagery. Sleep would also be nice, but there wasn't much of that, and their captors found interesting ways to disrupt it.
Since Jus was an adventurer at heart and had moved around a lot as a child, he had never really understood homesickness, and for the first time in his life, he felt it. It was much worse than he had imagined. It made him look at others with new respect. As the days passed, he tried with all he had just to follow the flow. The job of his captors, however, was to teach him how to deal with life when the flow is broken and chaos is everywhere. He was used to chaos, but even so, he was always creating it, which gave him a license to apply the brakes. Here, he controlled nothing, there were no brakes, and if you were caught trying the path of least resistance, they would suddenly inflict a challenge on you.
Two weeks into his nightmare, where music was not permitted, Jus thought he could stay off the front lines of attention. Of course, when detected, he was put in charge, and now the actions, words, and thoughts of those in his charge were all on him. He was accountable.
Overall, this worked for Jus. He had always been adaptable. It became apparent that his actions would not turn him into something else. It would only magnify and define the person he already was. Each week was a month long. He was kept tired enough at all times so that his brain, which could normally run several tracks of unrelated thought at the same time, could only run one. It was the one his captors wanted him to focus on.
They say absence makes the heart grow fonder, and it did precisely that for the Jus and Maarja. After just three months home, he was away again. This pattern would repeat for some time, but he had no idea. He was homesick and lived to get back, but that was so far away. It felt like years.
When you watch military commercials, you see people mastering technology, machinery, and intelligence. They appear confident and gritty—life-changing. The truth is, it is indentured servitude. The grit and confidence are learned at the wrong end of a mop and a floor polisher. Jus and his comrades were ordered to clean every tile surface and sandy rifle range everywhere they went.
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They were never permitted time to unwind, except for some Sunday mornings, which, by law, they have to allow for worship. Most of the time, it is used to catch up on stuff they never let you get done during the week.
Weapons qualification was intense and daily. Jus and his friends were loaded into troop transport trailers, which looked suspiciously like cattle cars, and hauled out to the ranges at 4 AM. They were sleepy, leaning against walls and each other, trying to steal another minute or two of sleep while being jostled around. Their captors never allowed them to take liberties such as naps. So as Jus and his friends were rocked back and forth as the cattle car rambled along the range road in the dark, the truck pulling it stopped. The doors flung open. "I can't hear anything!" the drill sergeant screamed. "We want to hear some cadence!" While riding in a cattle car? It seemed so ridiculous! Cadence was sung when marching or running to keep soldiers in step. Jus thought, one stupid idea begets another.
When the cattle car started moving again, Jus cleared his throat and loudly began to sing: "Here's the story of a lovely lady!" Everyone in the trailer joined in and also sang loudly. "Who was bringing up three very lovely girls! All of them had hair of gold, like their mother, the youngest one in curls! Here's the story of a man named Brady, who was bringing up three boys of his own. They were four men, living all together, yet they were all alone..." Suddenly, the cattle car swerved to the side of the road and skidded to a stop. Clearly, someone was not happy.
The doors flung open: "Everyone OUT!!! Formation now!" They all took their places in the cold, dark January morning at attention while the drill sergeant screamed at them. "You all think you are funny, don't you? FRONT LEAN AND REST! MOVE!" Front lean and rest is the plank position one takes to begin doing push-ups; palms of hands flat in the dirt, toes in the dirt. "AND ONE, TWO, THREE AND ONE, TWO, THREE, TWO, ONE, TWO, THREE, THREE! This brutal 4-count method could make 20 pushups into 40.
When Jus and his friend's arms were shaking to the point they could not lift their own weight even one more time, they were ordered back into the cattle car and continued onto the rifle range. As odd as this all was, there was something satisfying about never having to decide. Everything was ordered. Even when Jus did something perfectly, it was torn apart. He could do nothing right. No positive affirmation made him callous and hardened, and it worked.
Despite thinking he would lose his leadership title after 2 weeks, he remained squad leader until the end of Basic Training. Time and again, Jus was punished for the mistakes of those in his charge. It was hard enough to walk the line, and he could never do anything right. Times that by 14, and it was a gauntlet of three tireless drill sergeants pounding on him all the time.
It all peaked when he was being unceasingly punished for his squad's failure to achieve something that to Jus seemed inconsequential. He thought this would be like the past times in which there would be pressure, then it would stop. This time, it did not stop; it intensified with no end in sight. For the first time, Jus felt a nervous breakdown rising from deep inside him. There was no way to stop it. He was terrified because he was speeding towards an immovable wall. He felt certain of only one thing: he was going to die.
At a moment unexpected, just as everything Jus was made of was about to explode into fragments that could never be reassembled, he was allowed to go to the restroom. He rushed into a stall and completely fell apart. Total destruction was here. At any moment, he would be either dead or catatonic. As the last seconds of light in his life began to disappear, the immovable wall shook and fell in a great, awe-inspiring crash. The air was cleaner, the sun was out, and it was as though he could see for miles across lush green fields! There were no boundaries, and the warmth of peace filled him completely. The anxiety bubble had burst, and THIS is what was hidden behind it! He suddenly felt mighty and impervious to anything from outside of him. He felt wonderfully made. He had reached the confidence level of the very friend who caused him to even think about doing this stupid thing in the first place.
He quietly turned and left the restroom. He returned to his punishers and did exactly what they said to do, and it was absolutely nothing. He was suddenly a machine that could easily do this for the rest of his life. Jus realized, THIS is what they mean when they talk about breaking a person. It was remarkable. It redefined his whole life. Yes, he would have anxiety in the future, but he would always have this moment to reflect back on and know that he was millions of times bigger than the anxiety.