Call of Duty

A pack of IU students with fluorescent reflector belts jostling at their hips were trudging steadily along 10th, then 17th Street. It was almost six o’clock on a weekday morning, and the intersections, which still flashed off-peak reds and yellows on the traffic lights, were quiet and empty.

The stammering heavy breaths of the runners puffed into visible clouds and hovered in the foggy air.

Perhaps one cadet was thinking about his friends, still asleep, and how he’s already burned more calories than they will all day. Perhaps another was recalling her mantra as to why she’s giving herself shin splints. And maybe another has momentary doubts floating through his brain – questions all too commonly pointed toward any member of the IU Reserve Officers’ Training Corp. “Why join in the time of
war?” “Why go to Iraq at all?” “Why, if you’ve been there, would you ever want to go back?”

The pack kept silent as it traversed its usual Wednesday route to the football stadium. It was not until the group reached the dewy field that 21-year-old senior Leo Jansen, a compact, muscly sort, uttered a word.

“OK, A-group,” Jansen’s voice echoed. “We’regonna do four laps up.”

The word “up” was a literal order: “Up” was the direction from the bottom of the cement bleachers to the nose-bleed section. With a few huffs, the fittest of the fit paired off in twos – some spitting preparatory loogies over the bottom step railings – then began scaling the sharp incline.

“Be tough, be tough,” Jansen threw his voice. “Quick steps on the way down – explosions all the way up.”

Explosions reverberated as each foot hit the concrete. “Th at’s right, guys. Right when it hurts real bad – only makes you stronger.”

One straggler keeled over from the waist, panting. With one hand on the soldier’s back, Jansen nudged him encouragingly. “Come on, buddy, we’ll do this one together, you and me. Let’s go.”

When the A-group finished its physical training for the day, the sun had barely pealed over the horizon.

“I mean as far as ROTC is concerned, everything is focused on leadership,” he says. “My major is political science. I want to serve my country and do great things for America, but really, what I want to get out of it is the leadership training – and it’s knowing that as a leader of men, you’re only as affective as your people are.”

Teamwork, responsibility, valor, honor: These are the core values Jansen and the other cadets live and breathe, from the moment they rise for training or drills to their afternoons spent in lecture.

But this leadership development program doesn’t come without future obligation. After junior classmen become contracted with the Army, they are required to four years service after they receive their IU diplomas, either in active or reserve duties.

Despite the lengthy commitment required of them, college ROTC enrollment is on the rise. Since Sept. 11, heightened patriotism is among a handful of reasons cited for a steady growth in officer training programs nationwide, and IU is no exception to that trend.

In a time of war, there’s no doubt that many of the ROTC students will launch their careers straight into the heart of Iraq. But, will they be ready?

“That’s one of those things that I can’t speak to – it’s really tough to say,” Jansen demurs. “But when I do go, I know that I’ll live out my life trying to do all of my duties to the best of my ability.”

And when asked if the thought of going into Iraq is frightening... “I’d prefer not to answer that.”

Cadet Brett Kirby is tall, sturdy as a Redwood– a storyteller and a cynic. At times, he can be quiet and reserved; others, he is sarcastic and jovial. When it comes to his officer training, though, he’s all business. For the IU ROTC program, he is only one of 10 to have already been deployed to Iraq. And Kirby has been twice.

On a Thursday morning in the tailgating fields, he stood attentively, respectfully as another cadet a couple years younger than him instructed his platoon on the protocol for a basic military tactic. Th is time, it was how to lead troops across a Linear Danger Area, or as normal civilians refer to it, a road. Kirby, however, has already crossed many roads.

Sometimes when he goes through the repetition of drills, it will trigger a memory or two from Iraq, but Kirby downplays these occurences.

“That’s also kind of like how in math class when one problem reminds you of a time you did a similar problem or something. It’s like that only a little more magnifi ed. I don’t have flashbacks in the sense. But the adrenalin high in combat is ... well, any time that you’re scared, your body pumps out a whole lot of endorphins. If there was a way you could bottle that feeling, I mean, it would be worse than crack.

“The main thing that I kind of feel when I go through training is ... I won’t say contempt, but a mild sense that I’ve already done harder than this. I’ve already done harder than some will ever do in their lives. It’s almost a pride thing, and I’m just trying to stay humble.”

Unlike most of his fellow cadets, Kirby joined the Army straight out of high school. Four years later, he was sent to Iraq. It was in the midst of war that he had what he deems “a great epiphany.” He wanted to become a leader himself, but his lack of higher education was holding him back. He came to IU just for the ROTC.

“Just didn’t want to be the low guy on the totem pole again,” he says. While in Iraq, Kirby was outraged by the kind of leadership he observed. He thought he could do better than the offi cers who led him. “One of them died from a booby trap on the side of the road; the other one almost got me killed a few times. And then he said to me if I thought I could do so much better, why don’t I try to outrank him next time? So I thought, yeah, I’ll take the Pepsi challenge.”

Kirby is older than his peers because his education has been interrupted by his multiple deployments. But when asked about the possibility of returning to Iraq – “Oh, I’m planning on it.” He’s chosen a general studies major because, he says, it’s the quickest way of getting through IU so that he can get back to his Army duties.

Kirby doesn’t withhold anything when asked if he has fears about war. “The only thing that frightens you is knowing that your life is in the hands of someone else. I’ve already seen the elephant, and I believe I could make a difference by making the right choices under pressure. So I’ve got to go back – I’ve got to try.

“When I was 16, I was a proclaimed atheist. But I realized at that age that it was kind of my life’s mission to save a life. And that’s why I joined the Army to begin with. So I try to look at my time in ROTC the same way. I’ve been there, and these kids haven’t. I look at this as just another opportunity to save a life. I try to mentor these kids, tell them what I know. Because they know the textbook version of the real world. I only know what happened to me.

“I might be able to delude myself by thinking that if I tell these kids some stories or whatever that I’m saving them. But who knows. It might actually come down to that. Is that likely to happen? No ... but I’ll still try.”

To Carry Tradition...

Cadet Jamie Lemon, a 22-year-old senior, looks quite small when she stands by her fellow ROTC members. Nevertheless, her physical stature and gender have not hindered her dream to become an Army leader like her father and family generations before him. Her goal is to make it in the medical services branch, which she will find out about in December, but admits she would be happy to serve in any of the branches.

On a Thursday morning at the tailgate field, Lemon knelt down beside a large tactic board, moving the pieces around to demonstrate a maneuver to her platoon. Only then was her flaxen blonde ponytail visible from underneath her camo cap.

Some might wonder what inspires a woman to join the military. In Lemon’s case, it was her father. Ever since she can remember, it’s been her dream to follow in his footsteps. “My dad raised us in the military mindset. We had to stand at attention when we were in
trouble,” Lemon laughs. Lemon is the middle child of three sisters, and the only one of her siblings to join the  National Guard and ROTC. Carrying on the family tradition was very important to her, she says.

She might not be the typical girly-girl, but even in her combat boots and fatigues before the light of dawn, Lemon had a swoop of mascara across her lash lines. The fact that she is a woman merely makes her more determined to prove herself among her cadet peers.

“I’m not a very strong runner. And we’re not all going to be the fastest runners ever, but it’s something that I work at and try to max out the female record because we have to constantly prove ourselves. And it does get tough. If you’re on your period, you’re like, ‘I don’t feel like running. I don’t feel like doing sit-ups.’ But you do it anyway.”

Lemon says she’s heard the worst of the worst horror stories about the war from her dad, who re-enlisted at the age of 49.

“Going to Iraq is something that’s just expected. I joined the National Guard after Sept. 11, so I knew what I was getting into. And I know what it’s like to have someone close to you deployed. Of course, I have concerns. It’s a very, very scary place.

“One of the things that my dad really taught me is to take every opportunity to be trained. Train as if you’re going to fi ght, have a plan and have a backup plan. Because this affects your life.”

The members of the ROTC are often asked to explain themselves – why join up in a time of war, why go at all, why go back? Cadet Kirby has much experience in the way of answering those questions.

“If people ask me if I want to go back, they’re either the intrepid journalist, or they want to see if I’m one of those bloodthirsty, baby-killing guys who gets their jollies on with this. Really, people who ask those kinds of questions aren’t really interested in knowing why I want to go back; they’re more interested in wanting to know the motivations behind why I want to go back. I guess they’re just trying to find out whether I’m the ally or the enemy.”