Eutrusca
07-10-2005, 19:23
COMMENTARY: At a time when recruiters are having problems reaching their enlistment quotas, and some schools are even denying access to students, San Antonio, Texas, has no such problem. This article gives insight into why this is true.
San Antonio Proudly Lines Up
Behind the Military Recruiter (http://www.military.com/earlybrief/0,,,00.html)
By DAMIEN CAVE
Published: October 7, 2005
SAN ANTONIO - This city has its critics of the war in Iraq and its angry mothers who try to shame recruiters into going home. More than anything, though, it has a powerful patriotism and a deep respect for the military life.
At a time when the divide is widening between the cities and regions that send their children to war and those that do not, San Antonio remains a ready source of what the military needs most: people.
This metropolis - the home of the Alamo and the site of an Army presence since 1845 - is a top recruiting market for every branch of the military. The Army, in particular, which has struggled to sign up new soldiers during the continuing violence in Iraq and Afghanistan, has found the San Antonio area to be a reliable and steady source of recruits.
Nationwide, every one of the Army's 41 recruiting battalions failed to meet its recruiting goal in the fiscal year ended Sept. 30, falling 7,000 soldiers short of the goal needed to refill the ranks, according to Army figures. Not since 1979 has the Army missed its annual quota by so many recruits. And yet San Antonio's recruiters, covering the city of 1.2 million people as well as the area stretching north to Austin and south to the Mexican border, ranked first among battalions by signing up 2,118 people for active duty, 86 percent of its goal.
Only Oklahoma City, which followed with 78 percent, and St. Louis, with 72 percent, came close, according to the Army figures.
"People always say, 'How can you be doing so good when we're at war?' said Sgt. First Class Jaime Gaitan, 40, a senior Army recruiter on San Antonio's east side, at an award ceremony for being the only battalion to exceed its recruiting quotas for August. "But here the war boosts morale."
San Antonio has long described itself as Military City, U.S.A., but other military cities, like Fayetteville, N.C., also yield a large numbers of recruits.
Here, the culture of support starts with the strong military presence. Kelly Air Force Base closed in the 1990's, but San Antonio is still ringed by three Air Force installations as well as Brooke Army Medical Center and Fort Sam Houston, the Army's largest base through World War II.
Census figures also show that there are more veterans here than in other American cities of San Antonio's size, including Dallas and San Diego.
Many of these veterans are retirees. And because of a Texas program that makes it easier for them to gain jobs as teachers, San Antonio's schools are filled with men and women who served in uniform for 20 years or more.
They are often eager, active links between the battalion's 200-plus recruiters and students, who even in San Antonio's relatively thriving economy - low unemployment and a new Toyota plant on the way - are willing to enlist. Many students see the military as not just a good career but as a prestigious path, one more valued by some than college. "We're strong like that," said Jonathan Garcia, 16, standing outside the Ingram Park Mall one summer day. "If I'm going to die, I might as well die for my country."
In the hallways and courtyards of places like Judson High School, on the city's northeastern edge, a breezy comfort with the military is clearly evident. Since October last year, at least 25 former Judson students have enlisted in the Army, according to recruiting officials, making it one of the military's most productive schools.
It is easy to see why.
When Staff Sgt. Ian E. Davis, a square-chinned infantryman back from Iraq, and Sgt. Adam D. Torres, his soft-spoken recruiting partner, strolled in on the first day of school in August, unannounced and carrying doughnuts, the receptionist, Donna McMillion, greeted them with hugs.
"I appreciate everything you guys do for us - everything," said Ms. McMillion, wearing a pin that said "Too blessed to be stressed."
On most Tuesdays, Sergeants Davis and Torres can be found in one of the school's cafeterias, chatting with students or handing out free Army calendars. In contrast to school districts in California, New York and Washington State that have started limiting recruiters to only a few visits a year, Judson's administrators allow Sergeants Davis and Torres to come and go as they please.
The access is valuable because the student body is of Texan proportions: more than 3,500 on two campuses.
And size is not Judson's only advantage. At the school's Gray Campus, a short drive from the Red Campus, Barbara Meade, a guidance counselor, promised to point students toward the Army. "I have a lot of kids who need to be talking to you," she said to Sergeant Davis. "It's their best option."
The student population is heavily Hispanic, coming from mostly lower- and middle-class families. About 470 students are enrolled in the Air Force Junior R.O.T.C. program. Their day begins with the Pledge of Allegiance to the American and Texan flags.
Among Judson's faculty, connections to the military are as common as master's degrees in education. Its principal, Brad Williams, said 70 percent of the 280-member faculty served in the military, have family members who served, or also work in jobs connected to local bases. The concentrated military presence puts people like Richard McCarson, an assistant principal with a broad chest and a slight Texas drawl, in close contact with teenagers looking for a career. He tells a simple tale in a gruff voice: He was drafted at 19, and, he says, it was the best thing that ever happened to him.
"I was the first person in my family to go to college, and my entire education was paid for by the military," he said, standing in Mr. Williams's office.
Mr. McCarson met Sergeant Davis back when the recruiter was a mischievous teenager at a high school a few hours north. These days they are partners on a common mission.
"He's a combat veteran now," Mr. McCarson said of Sergeant Davis. "I got chills when I found out. That's how excited I was for him."
At the Ingram Park Mall across town, teenagers gathered near the food court on a recent afternoon and strolled between J. C. Penney and E. B. Games, where a shoulder-height display out front promoted a new video combat game called "Far Cry Instincts."
The young people hanging out and shopping did not necessarily look to be military material. Miguel Romo, 20, with his scruffy facial hair, backward baseball hat and T-shirt down to his knees, seemed more in tune with hip-hop than Huah, the Army chant.
But in fact, Mr. Romo - like a handful of other young shoppers - said he planned to enlist. He said his grandfather served in the Air Force for 30 years. "At some point, everything he said just started to make sense," Mr. Romo said. "It just clicked."
Mr. Romo said part of what made the military attractive was the money. Like many people here, he said he thought of military pay as a step up, and the money goes further here since San Antonio is one of the country's most affordable cities, with cheap gas prices and new homes and condominiums starting as low as $80,000.
"I'm just going by what my grandfather told me," Mr. Romo said. "He's got five houses, nine cars; he's got it all worked out."
For many young men, like Ronald Ecklund, 18, the war in Iraq is an even more powerful draw.
A Judson graduate of medium build, with a soft blond mustache, Mr. Ecklund signed up a month ago for an Army infantry unit without being approached by recruiters. Standing in Sergeant Davis's air-conditioned recruiting station after a run, a few weeks before starting basic training, he said that he had known he wanted to join the Army two years ago, after getting goosebumps while watching the movie "Black Hawk Down."
"I wanted to get up and go right then," he said, wiping a sweaty hand on his Army shorts, "but I couldn't because I was only a sophomore."
Sergeant Torres said Mr. Ecklund was so determined to enlist that he took the military's aptitude test four times before passing. Mr. Ecklund said he could not wait to be involved in a war that he believes will make the country safer.
"It's just one big fire, and we're there to put it out," said Mr. Ecklund, who also persuaded his best friend, Arlyn Hales, 19, to sign up. "We're there to prevent terrorism from coming over here."
Parents here are often only slightly less gung-ho. Military mothers, in particular, are actively involved in efforts to gain recognition for those who serve.
On a recent Friday night at a Lutheran church in one of the city's wealthier neighborhoods, several mothers and a father gathered, over sugar cookies stamped with the seals of the Army, Navy, Air Force or Marines, to frame pictures of local servicemen and servicewomen for a public display. At one point, Chris Peché-Schulz, the group's founder, a dark-haired single mother who works as a test proctor at a nearby university, pulled out a calendar she created with pictures of herself and those she called "my celebrities" - recognized heroes, from World War II to the battle of Tikrit.
"These are the people to me who are worthy of more attention and prayer," Ms. Peché-Schulz said. "They have a higher calling."
The other parents in the room nodded. They are united in support of the men and women in uniform, even though they do not all agree on the merits of the war. Political talk is banned at their meetings.
Not that the war's dangers can ever be fully suppressed. Members of the parents' group attended four military funerals in June. Since 2003, 17 men and women from San Antonio have been killed in Iraq. Only Los Angeles, which has a population three times as large as San Antonio's, has suffered more deaths, with 20.
One parent, Emma Bedoy-Piña, said she sometimes struggled with whether to recommend the military to her youngest son, Jacob, who graduated from high school last year. Noting that her older son, an airman second class, is stationed in Alaska and unlikely to be sent into combat, she said, "What if he's not as lucky as his brother?"
This summer, Sergeant Davis said, two mothers paid a call on his recruiting office to denounce the war and the recruiters' efforts. Still, for many people here, the war's needs outweigh political opposition, fear and ambivalence. Many said they believed that those who oppose recruitment are ignorant about the value that military service holds for the individual and the country.
At the Lutheran church, pride trumped all other emotions. Holding snapshots of young men and women in uniform, the parents there described their sons' decision to serve as inherently noble and brave.
"I have cards made up that I give to recruiters for them to pass out to parents," said Beverly Rosen, 42, the mother of Lance Cpl. Ryan Visket, who returned from Iraq in February. "That way, they can talk to someone who has walked in their shoes."
San Antonio Proudly Lines Up
Behind the Military Recruiter (http://www.military.com/earlybrief/0,,,00.html)
By DAMIEN CAVE
Published: October 7, 2005
SAN ANTONIO - This city has its critics of the war in Iraq and its angry mothers who try to shame recruiters into going home. More than anything, though, it has a powerful patriotism and a deep respect for the military life.
At a time when the divide is widening between the cities and regions that send their children to war and those that do not, San Antonio remains a ready source of what the military needs most: people.
This metropolis - the home of the Alamo and the site of an Army presence since 1845 - is a top recruiting market for every branch of the military. The Army, in particular, which has struggled to sign up new soldiers during the continuing violence in Iraq and Afghanistan, has found the San Antonio area to be a reliable and steady source of recruits.
Nationwide, every one of the Army's 41 recruiting battalions failed to meet its recruiting goal in the fiscal year ended Sept. 30, falling 7,000 soldiers short of the goal needed to refill the ranks, according to Army figures. Not since 1979 has the Army missed its annual quota by so many recruits. And yet San Antonio's recruiters, covering the city of 1.2 million people as well as the area stretching north to Austin and south to the Mexican border, ranked first among battalions by signing up 2,118 people for active duty, 86 percent of its goal.
Only Oklahoma City, which followed with 78 percent, and St. Louis, with 72 percent, came close, according to the Army figures.
"People always say, 'How can you be doing so good when we're at war?' said Sgt. First Class Jaime Gaitan, 40, a senior Army recruiter on San Antonio's east side, at an award ceremony for being the only battalion to exceed its recruiting quotas for August. "But here the war boosts morale."
San Antonio has long described itself as Military City, U.S.A., but other military cities, like Fayetteville, N.C., also yield a large numbers of recruits.
Here, the culture of support starts with the strong military presence. Kelly Air Force Base closed in the 1990's, but San Antonio is still ringed by three Air Force installations as well as Brooke Army Medical Center and Fort Sam Houston, the Army's largest base through World War II.
Census figures also show that there are more veterans here than in other American cities of San Antonio's size, including Dallas and San Diego.
Many of these veterans are retirees. And because of a Texas program that makes it easier for them to gain jobs as teachers, San Antonio's schools are filled with men and women who served in uniform for 20 years or more.
They are often eager, active links between the battalion's 200-plus recruiters and students, who even in San Antonio's relatively thriving economy - low unemployment and a new Toyota plant on the way - are willing to enlist. Many students see the military as not just a good career but as a prestigious path, one more valued by some than college. "We're strong like that," said Jonathan Garcia, 16, standing outside the Ingram Park Mall one summer day. "If I'm going to die, I might as well die for my country."
In the hallways and courtyards of places like Judson High School, on the city's northeastern edge, a breezy comfort with the military is clearly evident. Since October last year, at least 25 former Judson students have enlisted in the Army, according to recruiting officials, making it one of the military's most productive schools.
It is easy to see why.
When Staff Sgt. Ian E. Davis, a square-chinned infantryman back from Iraq, and Sgt. Adam D. Torres, his soft-spoken recruiting partner, strolled in on the first day of school in August, unannounced and carrying doughnuts, the receptionist, Donna McMillion, greeted them with hugs.
"I appreciate everything you guys do for us - everything," said Ms. McMillion, wearing a pin that said "Too blessed to be stressed."
On most Tuesdays, Sergeants Davis and Torres can be found in one of the school's cafeterias, chatting with students or handing out free Army calendars. In contrast to school districts in California, New York and Washington State that have started limiting recruiters to only a few visits a year, Judson's administrators allow Sergeants Davis and Torres to come and go as they please.
The access is valuable because the student body is of Texan proportions: more than 3,500 on two campuses.
And size is not Judson's only advantage. At the school's Gray Campus, a short drive from the Red Campus, Barbara Meade, a guidance counselor, promised to point students toward the Army. "I have a lot of kids who need to be talking to you," she said to Sergeant Davis. "It's their best option."
The student population is heavily Hispanic, coming from mostly lower- and middle-class families. About 470 students are enrolled in the Air Force Junior R.O.T.C. program. Their day begins with the Pledge of Allegiance to the American and Texan flags.
Among Judson's faculty, connections to the military are as common as master's degrees in education. Its principal, Brad Williams, said 70 percent of the 280-member faculty served in the military, have family members who served, or also work in jobs connected to local bases. The concentrated military presence puts people like Richard McCarson, an assistant principal with a broad chest and a slight Texas drawl, in close contact with teenagers looking for a career. He tells a simple tale in a gruff voice: He was drafted at 19, and, he says, it was the best thing that ever happened to him.
"I was the first person in my family to go to college, and my entire education was paid for by the military," he said, standing in Mr. Williams's office.
Mr. McCarson met Sergeant Davis back when the recruiter was a mischievous teenager at a high school a few hours north. These days they are partners on a common mission.
"He's a combat veteran now," Mr. McCarson said of Sergeant Davis. "I got chills when I found out. That's how excited I was for him."
At the Ingram Park Mall across town, teenagers gathered near the food court on a recent afternoon and strolled between J. C. Penney and E. B. Games, where a shoulder-height display out front promoted a new video combat game called "Far Cry Instincts."
The young people hanging out and shopping did not necessarily look to be military material. Miguel Romo, 20, with his scruffy facial hair, backward baseball hat and T-shirt down to his knees, seemed more in tune with hip-hop than Huah, the Army chant.
But in fact, Mr. Romo - like a handful of other young shoppers - said he planned to enlist. He said his grandfather served in the Air Force for 30 years. "At some point, everything he said just started to make sense," Mr. Romo said. "It just clicked."
Mr. Romo said part of what made the military attractive was the money. Like many people here, he said he thought of military pay as a step up, and the money goes further here since San Antonio is one of the country's most affordable cities, with cheap gas prices and new homes and condominiums starting as low as $80,000.
"I'm just going by what my grandfather told me," Mr. Romo said. "He's got five houses, nine cars; he's got it all worked out."
For many young men, like Ronald Ecklund, 18, the war in Iraq is an even more powerful draw.
A Judson graduate of medium build, with a soft blond mustache, Mr. Ecklund signed up a month ago for an Army infantry unit without being approached by recruiters. Standing in Sergeant Davis's air-conditioned recruiting station after a run, a few weeks before starting basic training, he said that he had known he wanted to join the Army two years ago, after getting goosebumps while watching the movie "Black Hawk Down."
"I wanted to get up and go right then," he said, wiping a sweaty hand on his Army shorts, "but I couldn't because I was only a sophomore."
Sergeant Torres said Mr. Ecklund was so determined to enlist that he took the military's aptitude test four times before passing. Mr. Ecklund said he could not wait to be involved in a war that he believes will make the country safer.
"It's just one big fire, and we're there to put it out," said Mr. Ecklund, who also persuaded his best friend, Arlyn Hales, 19, to sign up. "We're there to prevent terrorism from coming over here."
Parents here are often only slightly less gung-ho. Military mothers, in particular, are actively involved in efforts to gain recognition for those who serve.
On a recent Friday night at a Lutheran church in one of the city's wealthier neighborhoods, several mothers and a father gathered, over sugar cookies stamped with the seals of the Army, Navy, Air Force or Marines, to frame pictures of local servicemen and servicewomen for a public display. At one point, Chris Peché-Schulz, the group's founder, a dark-haired single mother who works as a test proctor at a nearby university, pulled out a calendar she created with pictures of herself and those she called "my celebrities" - recognized heroes, from World War II to the battle of Tikrit.
"These are the people to me who are worthy of more attention and prayer," Ms. Peché-Schulz said. "They have a higher calling."
The other parents in the room nodded. They are united in support of the men and women in uniform, even though they do not all agree on the merits of the war. Political talk is banned at their meetings.
Not that the war's dangers can ever be fully suppressed. Members of the parents' group attended four military funerals in June. Since 2003, 17 men and women from San Antonio have been killed in Iraq. Only Los Angeles, which has a population three times as large as San Antonio's, has suffered more deaths, with 20.
One parent, Emma Bedoy-Piña, said she sometimes struggled with whether to recommend the military to her youngest son, Jacob, who graduated from high school last year. Noting that her older son, an airman second class, is stationed in Alaska and unlikely to be sent into combat, she said, "What if he's not as lucky as his brother?"
This summer, Sergeant Davis said, two mothers paid a call on his recruiting office to denounce the war and the recruiters' efforts. Still, for many people here, the war's needs outweigh political opposition, fear and ambivalence. Many said they believed that those who oppose recruitment are ignorant about the value that military service holds for the individual and the country.
At the Lutheran church, pride trumped all other emotions. Holding snapshots of young men and women in uniform, the parents there described their sons' decision to serve as inherently noble and brave.
"I have cards made up that I give to recruiters for them to pass out to parents," said Beverly Rosen, 42, the mother of Lance Cpl. Ryan Visket, who returned from Iraq in February. "That way, they can talk to someone who has walked in their shoes."