Trainee Diego, I

326 TRS
Lackland AFB
San Antonio, Tx

27 Feb ‘07

J.D Lopez
Somewhere, USA 123

Dear Jay,

A lot has happened since I last wrote you.

As I approach graduation day I am overcome with mixed feelings of

elation and sadness. On the one hand I am elated to be home with
you and the rest of the family before I ship off to Tech school. I am
also excited to let my hair down (this sleeked back tight bun do, is
killing me) get my nails and eyebrows done, so that I can once again
feel like a girl and reclaim my identity! The sadness sets in, when I
think of losing the structured setting, I have grown accustomed to, as
well as the thought of never again seeing some of the girls in my
flight. Although, I was not overly fond of all of them, we now share a
bond and closeness that was made possible through this experience.

Thinking back to when I first arrived, the anxiety and shock brought
on by the instructors yelling at us constantly, I remember telling
myself “I cannot do this, what am I doing here?” I now blame all that
on first day jitters and sleep deprivation. Now that I am a week shy of
graduation, I have a newfound feeling of pride and joy. I have
accomplished something special and meaningful. All it took to get to
this point was some humiliation, heat exhaustion, sleep deprivation,
an aching body, lot’s of sweat and a few tears.

I had to get past all the head games the instructors played on us,
once I figured out, that they were actually rooting for us to succeed
(although, it did not appear so), I started to tell myself, “I can do this
and I will do it!” I was finally able to push myself physically beyond
anything, I formerly thought possible. I learned to make my body do
what, I wanted it to do. I passed my final physical fitness exam with
flying colors.
My proudest moment to date though, was when I met my weapons
training requirements (I did it, even with a gas mask and full chem
gear on) because, as you know, before this, I had never in my life
touched a firearm, let alone fired one. Then there was the march with
a 50-pound pack on my back (I thought for sure, I’d tip backwards
and roll down the hill) in full gear. The gas chamber experience was
surprisingly not that bad, once you got past the burning eyes and
snot.

Although, I still get chills at the thought of being called over to the
snake pit (Table where all the instructors from our flight sat, during
chow)and made to entertain the instructors, at my expense, I
wouldn’t change a thing, I’d do it all over again.

Maybe it’s the PTSD talking but I am glad I chose to enlist. I now
know that; I can get through anything life throws at me. I have
newfound appreciation for those that came before me, especially
those that served during wartime. I know to many it seems crazy to
willingly put oneself through this.

I may never become part of an elite group, nor get the chance to
knock down the door of a known terrorist’s bunker, but I now have
some of the mental grit and physical stamina that it takes to get
started.

Your proud sister, soon to be

Airman first class, Isabela Diego