Aren't we all the smae humans? by Jordan

Aren't we all the smae humans? by Jordan - August 2017 Scholarship Essay

March 20th, 2003. Kuwait. A young boy sits nervously in the cargo hold of a Blackhawk helicopter waiting for it to take off. When all of a suddenly, a red light pops on followed by a loud booming voice saying “alright ladies! Time to earn your stripes!” This was the voice of my immediate unit commander, Staff Sergeant(SSG) Brett Gash (or as unit 4 called him “BFG”). To my left was my driver PVT(Private) Wisenbaugh, to my right was PFC (Private First Class) Foster. And sitting directly across from me was SPC(Specialist) Brooks. Now we all lived in the same single soldiers barracks, and we were all on the same unit. Needless to say we were all like brothers. My roommate and friend PFC Valentine says from behind a big goofy sideways grin, “want one last Newport before takeoff?” Which was a terrible joke because it was a smokeless flight. The cargo door closes and I buckle up. The flight is mere moments away, in what had seemed like a lifetime, I was able to reflect upon the events that lead me here. The journey from a small town boy to a soldier on the verge of history. As my mind wanders through sorted memories, it focused on one fall day in September that set this chain of events in motion. Body: September 11th, 2001. Fresh out of basic training in the United States Army and right into “jump school” aka Airborne training. A freshly shaved head young man walks down a corridor with mirror like floors from a buffed and waxed floor, coffee cup in hand and a
smile on his face also wearing a camo uniform with a name tag “Beston” on the front. He walks by an open office door and someone says out loud “good moor’s Jordan”. 18 years old excited to start his day of learning how to be a military paratrooper. In the distance he can see a small crowd looking into an open doorway in absolute quiet. As I approached I seen what I thought was a bad joke or an action movie, an airplane had flown into the 1st tower of the New York twin towers. I gasped! Shocked and in awe, then the nightmare continued. A second plane hits the 2nd tower of the World Trade Center skyscrapers, I drop my coffee cup in disgust all over the mirror like floors. We all stood stunned and sickened, I instantly felt nothing but a rainbow of emotions. I remember feeling anger, sorrow, sadness. I thought “who could have done such horror?” I instantly wanted to march to whomever did it and stick my size 11 combat boot where his sun don’t shine. I then ran down the hall to my unit mates room, he grew up in Queens NYC. I sat with him and shed a few tears and captured what his face had looked like during the tragedy. His emotional state, body language had said it all. Fast forward a few months later, National Training Center for desert warfare, Death Valley California. Riding around in helicopters, riding around in HUMVEEs and of course walking Hashanah. Learning how to properly hydrate, learning survival skills (just in case I were to get lost in the Syrian desert in the future). I remember a familiar feeling, the same one I felt on 9/11. Upon arrival in Baghdad I found myself doing things I thought were “right” and associated with “cleansing of terror”. A few months go by and I become oblivious to the surroundings, my last night on patrol I remember arresting a “bad guy” and his family and friends came
out crying, emotional, disgusted, shocked and horrified. There was those familiar feelings I had encountered earlier. Then the proverbial smoked cleared! No matter whom you are, where you are from or what race you may be, WE ALL EXPERIENCE THE SAME FEELINGS. Conclusion: Life does not care if you are a Native American from North Dakota, a Caucasian from Chicago, a Hebrew from Baltimore, Catholic from Detroit, a “redneck” from Alabama or a Iraqi Syrian from the African continent. We all share the same feelings and emotions. What had started with anger and hatred had come full circle and ended in empathy, sympathy and association. The great Greek Plato once said “Only ones that have seen the end of was is the dead”. I happen to disagree! I firmly believe being able to associate and relate is the true path to forgiveness and closure. My life lesson I ultimately took away from this life event was the ability to step into another person’s shoes and see the world through their eyes or viewpoint. Being able to connect that way I was able to see the side of the native people in the foreign land I was walking the streets. Now I have an idea how a Muslim American or any foreign born person walking the soil of another country feels. The looks, the whispers, the points, the nods. Being able to associate that feeling has allowed me to broaden my horizon and empathize with other cultures, races and genders.