I didn’t. I didn’t want to join, never planned on joining. In fact, “I” didn’t join per se, my old man signed me up.
I was 16, working at the local IGA packing bags and spending some time working at the YMCA as staff at summer camp. I was also heading down the wrong path of petty crime and hanging out with who I thought were the cooler kids.
The cops came to my school to look for me one day – I was obviously not there. After they went to my house to get a photo of me for the manhunt from my mom, who was in tears, I guess my dad had enough.
A couple of days later, we were on our way to the grocery store. He is driving, I am in the passenger seat, the conversation, from start to finish lasted exactly as long as it takes you to read it:
Dad: So, what are you going to do for work this summer?
Me: I think maybe I will go back to the Y
Dad: I think you should join the reserves
Me: uh..ok
Pause, 2, 3
Dad: So, are you going to go navy or army?
Me: Army?
Dad: you are going navy.
Then we parked the car and never spoke of it again until the next week when he took me down to my local Naval Reserve Division.
Can’t say I ever really thought of leaving once I was in. it was the best decision I never made.