Chapter 13 Going Active Army pt 2

Lateshia

Lateshia was someone I clicked with immediately.
Wherever I was, she usually was too.
If there was a PT test, we were competing.
If there was a range day, we were competing.
If there was a promotion board coming up, we were studying.
We pushed each other constantly.
Not because we disliked each other.
Because neither one of us liked losing.
When it came to shooting, PT scores, military knowledge, or soldier skills, we always wanted to be at the top of our game.
She was a lot like me.
We even handled dating the same way.
I never knew who she was seeing.
She never knew who I was seeing.
We kept that part of our lives private.
Lateshia only stayed in Korea for a year while I was there for two.
But in that year, we became inseparable.
Now don't get me wrong.
Lateshia and I absolutely knew how to party.
And if a group of guys was deploying, we made sure their last weekend in Korea was one they would never forget.
Music blasting.
Girls dancing on tables.
Everybody laughing.
We were usually somewhere in the middle of all of it.
It was nice having somebody who understood both sides of me.
When it was time to be serious, we were serious.
When it was time to party, she was my partner in crime.
I was petite and cute.
She was tall and gorgeous.
Together we had entirely too much fun.
When she left Korea for Fort Hood, I was genuinely sad.
I told her that when it came time for me to PCS, I'd put in for Hood too so we could deploy together one day.
So in December of 2006, she left for Texas.
And suddenly I had six months left in Korea to figure out what came next.
My time in Korea was fun.
I had my share of random hookups here and there.
But eventually those started getting old.
It was always the same routine.
We'd talk.
Hang out.
Hook up.
Then eventually...
I'd get the ick.
Every single time.
The closer people got, the faster I wanted to run.
I hated relationships.
Honestly, even the idea of having a boyfriend annoyed me.
So I lived by three rules:
No relationships.
No attachments.
No drama.
I kept my personal life completely separate from everyone around me.
Most people had no idea who I dated or hooked up with, and that was intentional.
I told every guy I hooked up with that if he ever tried bragging about me, I'd embarrass him by telling everyone his Johnson was on the small side.
Amazingly, it worked.
Nobody knew anything about my personal life.
Problem solved.
Relationships felt exhausting.
The routine was always the same.
We'd talk.
Hang out.
Hook up.
Then eventually...
I'd get the ick.
Every single time.
The closer people got, the faster I wanted to run.
I wanted freedom.
Freedom from expectations.
Freedom from emotional baggage.
Freedom from anything that could tie me down.
Besides, I had a reputation to maintain.
People knew me as the vibrant one.
The loud one.
The fun one.
Depending on who you asked, I was either "Mouth of the South" or a "man-eater."
Honestly, both were probably accurate.
What I wasn't known for was keeping a relationship.
I was usually a good time.
But if somebody rubbed me the wrong way, I didn't hold back.
Guy or girl—it didn't matter.
I said exactly what was on my mind.
And even though I was only 5'3" and maybe 120 pounds soaking wet, I never let my size intimidate me.
Underneath all the partying and attitude though...
I was still a good soldier.
I showed up.
I did my job.
I scored a 290 on my PT test.
Now was I perfect?
Absolutely not.
I was terrible at waking up in the morning.
So bad, in fact, that I got put on mandatory "be on time" punishment.
Formation was at six.
So there I was standing at attention at five in the morning like my life depended on it.
If I was late, they added another week.
My punishment was originally supposed to be one week.
You can probably guess how that went.
Eventually, though, I adjusted.
I conformed just enough to survive.
I did my job, stayed out of serious trouble, and slowly started becoming a better soldier.
And a better person.
When you're stationed in Korea, your friends become family.
They're the people who make the time go faster.
The people who turn miserable field problems into funny stories.
The people who create memories you'll still be laughing about twenty years later.
There were six of us in our little group called New Breed.
Then there were the Bittys, our unofficial sister crew.
We were all in the same platoon, so even field problems somehow became entertaining.
I got the nickname Mouth of the South from that group.
I was a gunner, and even though promotion usually meant moving up to driver, I refused.
"I'm not driving anybody anywhere."
"I'm not putting my fate in somebody else's hands."
So I stayed a gunner and made the new guys drive instead.
Thankfully, they didn't care.
I sucked at driving anyway.
As a soldier, I figured there were really only two important things:
Run.
Shoot.
I could do both.
Somehow I always managed to qualify even though I was convinced I sucked at shooting.
I complained a lot.
But at the end of the day, I always got the job done.
Honestly, that was the Army in a nutshell.
Do what you're told.
Finish the job.
Go home.
Or stand outside all night pulling guard duty.
Either way, keep moving.
The Army didn't take away my wild side.
It taught me discipline.
It taught me how to control it.
But eventually even the party life started getting old.
The clubs.
The random hookups.
The inconsistency.
And after Lateshia left, the partying didn't feel nearly as fun.
Because honestly?
Chaos isn't nearly as entertaining when you don't have your person beside you.
For the first time in my life, I didn't want chaos anymore.
I still wasn't looking for marriage or forever.
At least that's what I kept telling myself.
But deep down, I think I was starting to want something steady.
Something real.
The problem was I only had six months left in Korea, and I knew better than to start something serious right before leaving.
That felt irresponsible.
Like setting yourself up for heartbreak before the story even started.
So I made a decision.
I was done chasing people.
I was going to settle down.
By myself.