May 7th, by Jim Routhier

I joined the Army at seventeen. Fresh out of high school, that was me. I had graduated at sixteen, the result of an experiment conducted at my middle school to promote four sixth grade honor students directly to the eighth grade. I was a freshman at age twelve and a high school graduate at sixteen. At seventeen, you need the signature of a parent or guardian to enlist. My father provided the signature. That only seemed right since it was his side of the family that I was honoring by selecting the Army as my chosen branch of service. I had made it known at a young age that I intended to join the military after high school. I was actively recruited by the Army and the Navy. I chose the Army, just like my brother, my father, his father and his father had done. It was a tradition I was proud to carry on. Basic and advanced individual training at Ft. McClellan, Alabama, was followed by an assignment to a unit of the 24^th Infantry Division at Ft. Stewart, Georgia.

May 7, 1985, was a Tuesday. I’ll remember that simple fact for the rest of my life. This was the day I became a man. I was 18 by this time. Legally an adult, but not so much emotionally, and not at all in terms of world experience. I was at my work area at the Company Headquarters of my assigned unit, Alpha Co, 3^rd Combat Engineer Battalion at Ft. Stewart, Georgia. Working at my desk, I noticed that it was nearly time for the afternoon Company formation. I quickly secured my work area and headed for our Company’s formation area. In the case of Alpha Company, our assigned area was the parking lot of our barracks. Three times a day, my Company would assemble for formation. Every day, Monday through Friday, all 200 men assigned to my Company would assemble each morning, afternoon and evening. At these formations, we would form into our respective Platoons and a head count would be taken, followed by any announcements and hopefully, mail call, which meant letters from home. This particular formation went much like any other, without any direct involvement by me, until I heard the Company First Sergeant calling out my name and ordering me to report to the Company Commander immediately after the formation’s conclusion. I acknowledged the order, and shortly thereafter, the formation ended.

As I walked back to the Company Headquarters, I wondered why the Commander would want to see me. As part of my job, I interacted with him as needed, but for me to be ordered to report to him meant one of two things: I had done something really worth note, or I had really screwed up.  Before I even realized it, I stood outside the Commander’s office. Nervously, I rapped lightly on the doorframe to announce my presence, and stepped in front of his desk. After he returned my hand salute, he ordered me to “Stand at ease.” This command permitted me to relax from the position of Attention, but to remain standing in place.

Things happened fast after this. He told me he had an emergency message for me from the Red Cross. I watched him take a deep breath, and then his gaze met mine directly, “Your Father is dead,” he said simply.

I remember two immediate reactions: a ringing in my ears and my knees starting to buckle from under me. I grabbed the front of his desk for support. His expression changed; realization flashed across his face. I don’t think the proffering of a chair prior to delivering such news even occurred to him until just that moment. He told me to sit down in one of the two chairs that stood against the wall behind me. I sat down, the ringing in my ears subsiding a bit. He watched me silently as I struggled to fight back an almost uncontrollable urge to cry. I was determined not to show any more emotion in front of my Commanding Officer than I already had.

 “I suppose you will want to go home on leave,” he said.

His voice sounded like Ebenezer Scrooge asking Bob Cratchet if he expected Christmas Day off yet again this year. My Commander was not the most compassionate man. I nodded, still not having yet found my voice. He ordered me to report to the Company Clerk for travel orders. With that command, and the necessary information disseminated, he ended the meeting and dismissed me.

Our Company Clerk, Staff Sergeant Hartwig, was a decent man. Friendly, with a kind face, he adopted the new guys to our unit and made sure they learned the ropes and didn’t anger the other sergeants too much. He met me as I exited the Commander’s office and handed me handwritten travel orders already prepared in my name.  I left the Company Headquarters and quickly made my way to the nearest pay phone—no cell phones in those days—and called home.

It was during this phone call that hastily arranged travel plans would be made, and I would learn of my father’s cause of death. I learned that he had committed suicide using the shotgun, my shotgun, kept at his home. Unbeknownst to him, his action would shatter my family, and we would never truly recover from the effects of his decision. However, all of that would come later. For now, I hung up the phone, and started to walk back to the barracks. I had to first pack and then get to the airport. As I walked, I sobbed openly. My father was dead and, for the first time in my life, I felt truly alone in the world. Whether I was ready or not, I became a man on May 7^th.