CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
It was early 1999 and the idea of joining the US Air Force was having a powerful effect on my mind. It seemed like a distant dream, but strangely possible. Now that I had passed the written exams, the next step was the physical and mental screening. I wasn’t sure what to expect but was ready to give it my best shot. The US military offered a steady paycheck and educational benefits, which could be the gateway to a college education for me.
During the same period that I was preparing for the Air Force exam, one of my teammates and a friend from Sassoon, Steve, asked me to play in a three-on-three soccer tournament. Although I was a bit hesitant since I was getting ready to join the military, I accepted. I couldn’t afford a new pair of soccer cleats, though, so I had to wear my old Pumas all the way from my Sonora days. These old cleats, which I’d had for a few years, were very worn down, and the field we were playing on seemed like a minefield — there were many spots where the grass was dry and patchy, and there seemed to be holes everywhere.
Nevertheless, I started stretching and got ready to provide what was expected of me the best I could as a soccer player and not let my old teammate down. I had possession of the ball and was sprinting down the left side of the field toward the corner flag. I planted my left foot and tried to make a sudden stop to shake off the defender and turn to my right. As I turned my upper body to the right, I felt my left foot slip and heard three cracking sounds in my left knee. The pain was intense; the next thing I knew, I was on the ground grabbing my knee with both hands. I knew something was very wrong, but I still hoped that it wasn’t serious and would perhaps get better soon. I sat on the sidelines in pain for a while, rubbing my knee, before I managed to make it home somehow.
I treated my left knee with ice and took painkillers for the next few days, hoping my Air Force dream would continue without delay. Having no aunts, uncles, or cousins to check on me or help me during my difficult times in this country created emotions difficult to describe. Although I had become somewhat familiar with these feelings, I could never get used to them.
Melissa was about to graduate from the nursing program at Fresno State that year. She had been very kind, easygoing, and supportive ever since we started dating, and that continued while I tried to recover from my injury. When I couldn’t drive, she would often give me a ride wherever I needed to go or bring me food when she came to visit me at Mike’s.
It had been a few months since I first started my military journey with my recruiter in Fresno, and I wasn’t about to let it all go to waste. I arrived at Sacramento MEPS (Military Entry Processing Station) for my physical and mental test, ten days after first sustaining my injury. My knee felt like it was healing, but it was still painful to walk on. My biggest test came when the instructor ordered me to drop to both of my knees from a standing position during the physical test. I felt a severe stab of pain, but I forced myself not to make a sound. He was watching me like a hawk. When he ordered me to repeat the process, I again dropped straight on to my kneecaps, feeling even more intense pain this time. It was a struggle to hide my suffering and present the image of a strong candidate.
By the end of the day, I had a painful smile on my face. I was in agony, but I had passed the test, so I was happy. My next step was to go through basic training at Lackland Air Force Base in San Antonio, Texas, which would start in a couple of months.
I had a lot of mixed feelings about this new chapter in my life. There was a sense of excitement, but I also felt great anxiety and even fear about my future. Was I going to be able to get through all six weeks of intense basic training with my painful knee? What would the next four years of my life be like? What if I joined up just in time for America to go to war somewhere? Was I making the right decision by signing the next four years of my life away?
The time had come for me and my roommates to go our separate ways. Mike put his house up for sale, and I remember the morning we woke up at six o’clock to hold a yard sale. We hadn’t planned it all that well and hadn’t really advertised it. We might have put a few flyers around the neighborhood, but that was it. We dragged whatever we owned out into the driveway. By the time Mike and I were on our third cup of coffee in our driveway on Price Street, we had only had one person show up. By 9:00 AM we were practicing our sales skills and trying to sell our stuff to each other.
Metin was living with his girlfriend in a small town near Fresno. He offered me a temporary place until I had to leave for Texas, a favor I will always be grateful for.
His girlfriend, who was very hospitable and cooked delicious meals, was a devout Catholic and had hung many crosses around their house, giving the whole place a mystical and spiritual feel. I enjoyed falling asleep while watching TV in the living room by candlelight in such a cozy atmosphere.
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