American Airman: a memoir of a wounded veteran

By Jonathon C Benjamin

What would you sacrifice for your country?

This memoir is a must-read for every American.

An inspiring and gripping memoir from an American veteran grappling with

• Language: English
• Publisher: Jonathon C. Benjamin
• Release date: May 17, 2022
• ISBN: 9798892385640

Jonathon C Benjamin

Jonathon Benjamin is an author and playwright. He studied at George Washington University in Washington, DC. Having grown up in an Army family, it he enlisted in the Air Force. But, after a nearly fatal accident, he retired, having served 5 years, 12 days and 4.5 hours. He began playwriting as an undergraduate and his first play was produced by the John F Kennedy Center in the Kennedy Center American College Theatre Festival. That play became a book of prose that self-published. Jonathon currently lives in Seattle, Washington and enjoys being back in the Pacific Northwest.

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ISBN: 979-8-88525-623-0

Copyright © 2021 Jonathon Benjamin

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or used in any manner without the prior written permission of the copyright owner, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

Contents

Prelude to an Airman

American Airman: Aim High

American Airman: Active Duty

American Airman: Settling In

American Airman: Proved in the Fire

American Airman: Self-Preservation

American Airman: Survivor’s Guilt

American Airman: A New Chapter

American Airman: Back In the Groove

American Airman: Re-Imagined

American Airman: Into the Wild Blue Yonder

I

Prelude to an Airman

It was a gorgeous day. The sun was out, the clouds were sparse and the temperature was a blanket of mid-winter chill in Washington, DC. It was a perfect day to go for a run. The sting of my grandfather’s passing was still sharp in my chest as I thought about what he’d be doing, right now, in 2007.

This is so much better than being at home.

I joined the high school cross-country team last year, as a junior, to avoid what my therapists would later help me to reveal as a toxic and abusive family at home. My grandfather was the only man to treat me well. He taught me to become the man I was supposed to be. After he passed in 2006, my life would unfold in such a way that I would have to separate myself, indefinitely, from the biologicals. I use the term, pejoratively, to refer to anyone with whom I had bio- logical relation to, but nothing else. In the abrasive roughness that would change my life forever, I lost family and metastasized biologicals.

Such is life.

This day, I was out for a run with the team to the nearby Cosca Park. The run was nice—not too egregiously long but still a moderate workout. We always started from our private school campus and made our way down residential backroads to the park. Once there, we’d complete a circuit around the lake. I loved that lake. There was so much peace and serenity on the calm surface that mirrored the tall, gently swaying pines that surrounded it. I think back, even now, and feel the tranquility of something so simple that brought me such peace in a life that rarely experienced it.

I was raised in the church, so I found solace in the fire and brimstone sermons, but I rarely ever experienced an actual peace of my own. There was always something to worry about.

What do the biologicals want from me?

How are my grades in school?

What am I going to do about college?

Not while I ran, though. That was my time to be free. I never said anything to anyone about my home life because I thought that was what every seventeen-year-old went through with their parents. I didn’t know my experience wasn’t the norm. I thought, for sure, that all African American children were spanked and locked in their room for not eating their vegetables.

Come on, let’s pick up the pace. I need to beat my record.

I was not the best runner, but it was my junior year and participating in extracurricular activities looked good on college applications. Once we returned from the four-mile run, I had no way to prolong the inevitable. Sweaty and exhausted, I called my mother, the female biological, to come and pick me up.

Mom, we’re done with practice, now, I said into my cell phone.

Um, what do you mean, you’re done? she asked.

Oh, great. Here we go…

I mean I am done with practice, now. Could you pick me up when you get a chance? I replied.

There was a long silence, followed by the assertive, intimidating voice of my father, the male biological.

What are you talking about, come pick you up? he barked into the phone.

I’m done with— I started.

Yeah, I heard, he growled. You still went to practice even after we talked this morning about you coming straight home after school.

Oh, I forgot, I lied. Coach says I might make regionals if I keep up with practice, so—

Oh, so, since you can’t follow simple directions, does your coach want to take you home to live with him, then? he asked.

No, I just forgot. I’m done, though, and I have— I tried to step past my indiscretion. I knew full well that I was supposed to have gone home. I just didn’t want to deal with it—the yelling, the arguments and, more often than not, some form of discipline via a grueling physical training exercise from the male biological’s time in the Army.

What you have to do, right now, is figure out a way home, he told me. We aren’t going to imposition ourselves because you went off and did what you wanted to do, Ryan.

But, everyone is gone now, I said. I can’t get a ride.

You have two feet, don’t you? he said. Get to walking. You know the way home, and he hung up the phone.

Are you kidding me?!

It was eight-and-a-half miles to my house from school. I knew that because this wasn’t the first time I had to walk home. There was no way I was going to make it back before dark. The sun was already performing its slow dance down to the horizon and a lot of the walk home had no sidewalks. So, I needed to get going if I was going to get there safely.

This is ridiculous.

While I walked, I hoped that some parent would be out on the road and recognize me as I trekked my way home. In the fall theatre production at school, I performed the lead role of Wilbur in Charlotte’s Web. As a result, I was a bit of a popular student with all the families and faculty.

I spent as much of my time in the theatre or participating in extra-curricular activities as possible to keep from going home. Besides, it also looked good on my college applications and I’d need as much scholarship money as I could get since the biologicals weren’t planning to help me pay for school.

It’s your job to apply for scholarships and get your own education financed, they’d constantly remind me.

I worked at a theme park as an actor and dancer making minimum wage. So, I was looking at community colleges in order to mitigate the costs of higher education. I was sure that the time I had left in high school would give me a bit of space to relax and choose my options wisely.

I’m going to hate this walk…

I had been walking and avoiding traffic for two hours when I looked up and noticed the sun had completely disappeared from view. The moon had just started to come out from behind a small puff of clouds above the horizon. Based on where I was along the long route home, I still had an hour, at least, until I’d be in my neighborhood.

HONK!

A car pulled up behind me and quite rudely, I might add, honked its horn, full volume, at my back.

What’s this jerk’s problem?

I was on the shoulder of the road and well past the fog line. But, I turned around and, through beaming headlights, I made out the light-brown Chevy Suburban of the female biological’s car.

Oh.

Rolling my eyes, I trudged my way over to the passenger-side door.

Hey, she said.

Hi, I replied curtly. I had to let go of the anger and frustration I held. I was too tired to be angry. Including the cross-country work- out, I had walked or ran almost nine miles that day.

I guess you’ll catch the bus home next time, huh? she asked, sarcastically.

I just sat in the seat, staring out of the window as we drove home. Thankfully, the next day was a Saturday, so I could sleep in since I had time off from work. Working was a dichotomous endeavor. In one sense, I had a way to make my own money. On the other hand, I could get away from the biologicals for extended periods of time.

Maybe I’ll go to work anyway, just to get out of the house.

•••

Over the next couple of months, work became a frequent excuse— the perfect way for me to escape the life sentence at home to which I was subjected. Over the winter months, I worked as a dog groomer at a pet shop near the theme park. One day, on my way home, I noticed an Air Force recruitment center near the train station. It was a distant thought; an idea I had not really taken the time to consider.

Military service? I don’t know if that’s the life I want.

The male biological was a veteran of the US Army. I knew firsthand what military life would be like. I also knew, for certain, that I wouldn’t be joining the Army.

But, maybe, the Air Force…

None of that mattered, though, because around the same time that all the other seniors started getting their letters of acceptance to college, I got a small letter in the mail, too.

Dear Ryan Cureton,

We would like to congratulate you on your acceptance to Prince George’s Community College. Based on your academic excellence, we are further offering you a full scholarship with our Honors Academy.

Wow! I did it!

What have you gotten into? the biologicals said to me—the female on one side and the male on the other.

If you got some girl pregnant, the male said, you better have a plan.

She better not be a White girl, Ryan, the female said, her racism noxiously blossoming into view. I just waited for their ridiculous presumptions to stop before I spoke.

I didn’t—what? I said, speechless.

All I had told them was that I had news. They took that and twisted it into some negative barrel of false assumptions that stole all the joy out of the situation, entirely. I didn’t even want to talk about it anymore by that point.

You know what, I replied, turning to leave, never mind.

Don’t you dare walk away from me in my house, the male biological barked from behind me. You don’t pay any bills here. So, go on and tell us what this news is.

Look, if you’re in trouble, let me know now, sweetheart, the female told me.

She sounded completely calm, but I knew her well enough. When she was calm, something unexpected was about to happen—she would yell out of the blue or, unprovoked, she’d hit me.

I’m fine, I said, disheartened by their reactions. I just—, I sighed. I got into PG community college.

That’s nice, the male said, detached. Who’s gonna pay for it?

Cutting my eyes at him, I told him, I will.

Well, that’s great, the female said. I guess you’re gonna have to balance school and work though, huh?

Yes, ma’am, I replied.

I wanted nothing more to do with the conversation, so I turned to leave, heading for my room.

Oh, so, now, that’s what we do? the male biological shouted.

Baby, the female biological said to him, trying to dampen his temper.

No, he’s all educated now, he said to the both of us. "So, he can just walk away from our conversations?

No, I—, I began.

You too good to talk to your parents, now? he yelled.

It hadn’t crossed my mind until then, but neither of the biologicals graduated from college. I guess it must have rubbed them the wrong way that, not only was I accomplishing something they hadn’t, but I was being pretentious about it.

Which I wasn’t.

I’m still here, I said, perturbed. We are clearly having a conversation, still.

My tone, I admit, may have been a bit too big for my britches, but I was completely frustrated by how they were handling what should have been a great announcement. I mean, on my own, I held down a job on the weekends, I kept up with my schoolwork and my extracurricular activities, all while still applying for higher education and getting accepted into a community college.

Get out, he told me. I was stunned. Get out of my house.

Honey, the female pleaded to him.

No, he said, silencing her.

But— I tried to speak.

If you can have the audacity to talk back to me in my own house, you’re obviously too grown to be living under my roof, he said.

The female biological stood there silently; a lamb afraid to enter the lion’s den.

Fine.

Without a word, I grabbed my jacket and went out the door. Kicking me out of the house was far too common for the biologicals. They’d been doing it since I was eight years old. If I ever did something so egregious that a spanking or tongue-lashing couldn’t fix, then out the door I had to go. This time, I walked down to the street corner, hoping to catch a city bus passing by, but it was too late in the day. The last bus had already passed through my neighborhood. So, I just made myself busy thinking things over—finishing high school, my future in college and what working would be like while I’d be pursuing higher education. College students have been doing the work-study thing since forever.

I’m sure I can do it, too.

It was getting colder. The sun was long gone, and it had to have been at least an hour since I had left the house. So, I made my way back up the street, hoping to get inside to some warmth. I knocked.

What do you want? the male biological snarled from behind a partially open door. The one eye I could see was bugged out at me in anger. Why are you at my door?

Can I come back inside, now? I asked, the chill creeping into what little warmth I had left in my jacket.

And why, pray tell, would I do that? he told me, unflinchingly.

It’s really cold out here. Can’t I come back in? I said, shivering.

You obviously don’t understand the question, the male biological said. Why should I let you into my house?

I’m sorry that I was disrespectful, I told him, sighing and not in the mood to placate him.

That’s a good start, but, again, what makes you think you can come back into this house? he repeated.

I— I started, stumbling over my words through chattering teeth.

Wrong! Go on and get off my porch, he said and shut the door in my face.

It was late winter and, unlike my irritation, the temperature was quickly dropping. I had no idea what else I could do. The biologicals wouldn’t let me back in and it was getting colder by the minute. Usually, I’d walk around the neighborhood a couple times and then come back home. By then, they’d be decent enough to let me inside. But, now, it was freezing cold and I was not walking around to catch pneumonia. I remembered that earlier in the schoolyear, I’d made friends with a new girl in one of my drama classes. Her name was Adrienne and she was from El Salvador. When we met, I thought that it was unfortunate for her to have to leave home and her friends in the middle of senior year. I’d done a fair bit of moving around when I was younger and figured we’d bond over that. I hurriedly stuffed my frozen fingers into my pocket and fished around for my phone.

"Hola?" Adrienne answered.

Hey, Adrienne, I said through chattering teeth.

What’s wrong? Are you okay? she asked.

I’ve been stuck outside for over an hour now, I told her.

"Oh, no, mijo. Why? Where are you?" she replied, caringly.

Can you come get me? I asked her. I don’t think I’m going to get back inside anytime soon.

Sure, where are you? Text me the address, she said.

It was another twenty minutes of bone-chilling cold before I saw her headlights approaching from where I stood, frozen, on the street. Adrienne was one of the lucky high school kids who had a car. On the ride to her home, I told her the whole story about getting the acceptance letter and getting kicked out.

So, they just told you to get out? Adrienne asked, stunned.

Yeah, and it’s not even the first time, I said.

You know, we should call Child Protective Services, she suggested.

I don’t know about all that, I said, remembering the warning the biologicals gave me the first time Child Protective Services was mentioned in our house.

You can go ahead and call the Child Services people, if you want to, they said. But, you best make sure they’re gonna take you home, because you won’t be living here, anymore.

Thinking more about my current situation, I didn’t see how Child Protective Services would even be able to help. It could’ve been the result of standing outside in below freezing temperatures, but in my mind, I thought it would be impossible to do anything and the biologicals would just make a big deal out of it all. Besides, I was only seventeen at the time. I just wanted to get through the last few months of high school and move on with my life.

"Okay, mijo, Adrienne’s mother said to me when we arrived at her house. If you don’t want to call Child Protective Services, then I think you should stay here with us."

Oh, no, but I couldn’t— I started. Thank you so much, but I wouldn’t want to bring my problems into your home.

"Silencio, mijo, her mother said, raising her tone. I am not comfortable with sending you back, so you will stay here."

Yes ma’am, I replied, respectfully.

Adrienne says that you have a job, she continued. I will expect you to contribute to the food and gas expenses, okay?

I nodded and graciously thanked her and Adrienne for their hospitality.

•••

My senior year went by rather seamlessly. I graduated with a great set of accomplishments under my belt—a full ride to college, my job at the theme park, high grades and I made the top 15 runners on the cross-country team at regionals. I was almost eighteen and ready for the summer. It would be my grand entrance into adulthood, as far as I saw it. I was in a comfortable groove with Adrienne’s family, too. I would gratefully help with the groceries, paying for my share of the utilities and helping to cover gas money for her car.

This is a great life to be living!

Then, it all stopped. Everything ended with just one phone call.

Adrienne, I called out from my room. Did you wanna go to Home Depot to pick up what you need for your project fixing the lamppost in your room?

"Oye, she said, exhausted. I don’t really feel like it, but I know you’re gonna hound me about it, so…"

You don’t know me, I said jokingly. I’m not such a hound if you just keep up with all your projects.

Adrienne—or Ady, as I called her—had become much more like a sister, than a friend to me. Considering all that her mother had done and was doing for me, it wasn’t much of a leap to say that I felt like a part of their family.

I’m not doing this with you, right now, Ady told me. Let’s go.

We arrived at Home Depot around 6:30 p.m. It was supposed to be a quick in and out for what she needed. American Idol was coming on that night and we were both addicted to the reality TV show. I was roaming the lumber aisle, killing time, while Ady perused the store. Ever since I was a child, the smell of the freshly cut wood always appealed to me.

Then, my phone rang.

Who’s calling me this late in the day?

I looked at the display on my phone and it read: MOM.

What the hell is this?

I sighed and ignored the call. Not a minute later, I was heading toward Ady on the other side of the store when my phone rang, again. Knowing how stubborn the biologicals could be, I, regretfully, answered.

Yes? I asked, sighing in frustration.

Hi, baby, the female biological said to me. How are you?

I’m fine, I replied, curt.

What are you up to? How have you been? she asked.

I’m doing fine, I told her, sighing. I’m at Home Depot with a friend.

Where are you living?

I’m safe. I just don’t— I began.

I know things aren’t so well between us, but at least let me know where you are, she pleaded with me.

I’m at the Home Depot in College Park, I told her, rushing to get off the phone.

Oh, what are you— she began to ask.

"Look, I’m going back home to catch American Idol, I said, cutting her short. Talk later, bye."

Thankfully, Ady was ready to leave by the time I found her in the lighting section of the store. I was a bit unsettled by the female biological’s unsolicited phone call.

Are you ready to go? I asked Ady, abrasively.

Yeah, check out these— she started, noticing my temper flaring. What’s wrong?

I just got a random phone call from the mother, I said.

Uhh, she replied, dumbfounded.

Yeah, exactly, I said, agitated. What gives her the right, after all this time—

"Ay Dios mio! Let’s just get back home, Ady said, calming my rising temper. We can watch American Idol and I’ll make you some plátanos."

Yeah, let’s go, Ady, I said, flustered from the last few minutes of drama.

We got home and I was thankful for my quasi-family unit. It wasn’t perfect, but it was perfect for me. Ady and I were satisfied with our plátanos and watched a few of the auditions on American Idol before heading to our own rooms.

Work the next day went by uncharacteristically well. Overall, I loved working at Six Flags America. I performed as a host on a talent show of Looney Tunes characters. The show was for kids, but it wasn’t nearly as stress-inducing as the other song and dance shows. My day was full of laughing children and parents who were happy to have their little ones preoccupied with a show. The song and dance shows had intense choreography, special effects and live singing from the actors. I never actually put it together until later, but the park must have modeled my show after American Idol, because the hosts both shared similar names—Ryan Seacrest and Ryan Seafoam.

I can’t wait to get home…

Hey, Ryan, came Ady’s voice from the front entrance of the house.

Yeah, I’m in your room, I said.

Did you see that car sitting out front? she asked.

What? There wasn’t a car there when I got home, I said, walking toward her and heading to the front door.

I’ve got a bad feeling, Ady said.

She was, apparently, clairvoyant because the second I opened the front door, my heart dropped to my feet.

What the hell is this?!

I slammed the door and turned to Ady, steaming in anger.

"Qué paso? What’s going on? she asked. Is everything okay? Who is that out front?"

Don’t worry about it, Ady, I said, going to the kitchen where her mother was preparing supper.

"Mijo, you okay?" she asked me.

"Mamá, there’s someone out front… I said, trying to calm myself. I’m afraid that it’s the former parental unit sitting out front."

I hadn’t started to call them the biologicals yet, but the way I phrased it understandably confused Ady’s mother.

"Qué? she asked, again. What is going on?"

"Nada, mamá. I will take care of it," I reassured her and Ady, heading to the front door.

Before I went out, I stood at the door, holding the knob. I just hoped this could be handled simply and that they’d just go away.

How’d they find me?

Ady and her mother came up to console me. They both laid a hand on my shoulders as I stood there, silently wishing this wasn’t happening. But, then…

KNOCK! KNOCK!

I jumped at the knocking. It rattled me from my thoughts and I knew my time was up.

"Mamá, I am so sorry to bring my problems into your home," I said.

I had to confront the situation at hand. I felt like I could feel my hair growing