My hands were shaking, I didn’t know why, but they were. Clammy, fidgeting, terrified. Something was making my stomach jitter, something unfamiliar but exciting. Was it the blues? The greens? The way he carried himself? Or was it simply the fact that I was too childishly afraid to say hi?
I suppose it was a rough combination of it all that made my knees weak when they walked in, but it still meant nothing to me. So I sat back, month by month, leaning against the brick wall just a few feet away hoping he’d notice me but praying he wouldn’t. Twiddling my thumbs and pumping up my courage, I nervously watched on.
It absolutely petrified me, this insanely clear thought I was beginning to form in my otherwise foggy mind. I was starting to wonder if maybe, in some crazy way, he could eventually be mine. If somehow, I was good enough for that. I could have sworn I was good for nothing and couldn't imagine being as respected as him, but in the back of my mind the idea started forming, growing slowly and carefully around my uneducated fears.
But one afternoon, shaking in my shoes, I did it. I dove out of the post-lunch traffic towards where Sergeant Williams was standing and said hello. To my surprise he was very welcoming ,greeted me with a casual, “Hey.” and asked my name. And for the few noisy minutes before the bell rang he lectured me on the basics of the job, and what it takes to be a soldier in the United States Army.
I left our little conference feeling proud and increasingly more certain that this is where my so far, unimportant life was headed. But still, even after I faced my fear, my nerves hadn’t calmed down and my hands were still quivering in my pockets.
That told me something. The voice was quiet, but the message was more than clear.
“Do it.” My heart told me, and I smiled.

Throughout the remainder of my sophomore year I eagerly waited that one day every month when I’d stroll into lunch only to be pulled away to chat with the guys for a while. Some days it was a casual, “Hey, hows it going?” other times I had questions or wanted more information about my future. But either way I always loved the feeling of being with men like them. Uniforms neatly worn, handshakes firm, and voices clear. Shoulders set back straight, eye contact never wavering, and pride for the work they do immensely eminent in every word they spoke. I loved the structure of their environment and
By the spring the recruiters knew me by name and I had everything planned out. Gradually people I know began to see me at the cloth covered table every month and began associating the name Jamie Schwartz with the United States Army.
And it terrified me.