(November 2001)

Sgt. Anderson "Hey man, you didn't have to go and embarrass my test like that."
Nick "Sergeant, I'm still upset that you wouldn't let me study. I think I could have gotten a perfect score."
Sgt. "Son, a 98 is good enough. 99 is the highest possible score. You get that and we're going to have to ship you off to the NSA [National Security Agency]."

Sgt. Anderson is talking to me on his cell phone from his home. I can hear his kids playing in the background. It's a Friday and like most senior NCO recruiters, he takes the day off.

I took the ASVAB on Thursday. The ASVAB is basically the military entrance exam. It's an intelligence test that measures certain cognitive abilities, and based on your score, you become eligible for certain jobs. Or if you score too low, you eliminate yourself entirely from eligibility for the armed forces.

I'm not kidding with Sergeant Anderson; I am legitimately upset that I didn't get in the 99th percentile. How the fuck do I graduate with honors from an Ivy League undergrad and go to a top 5 business school, and not get a perfect score? The test is basically just memory, math and analytical speed. For chrissake, I got in the 99th percentile on the GMAT, but only 98 on the ASVAB! The problem was that the math was mostly high school stuff and some of it I had forgotten, like factorials and the like. I tried to get the test administrator to give me my answer key, and let me see the ones I missed. When he told me that was impossible, I tried to get him to let me take the test again. He asked my score, I told him I got a 98 and he looked at me like I was retarded and told me to get out of the testing area.

You take the ASVAB at what is called MEPS [Military Entrance Processing Station]. The Department of Defense sets up one MEPS in each geographic area and it services all four branches, Army, Air Force, Navy and Marines. It coordinates all aspects of processing new recruits into the various armed forces branches. To take the test, you sit in this big room full of old computers and take the test on them, sort of like the GMAT (the entrance exam for business school). You take the test at your own speed, and the test administrator gives you your score immediately after you finish on a printed sheet of paper.

But my score is not the reason I am on the phone with Sergeant Anderson. I called him because the Naval recruiters frightened me. One of the Naval recruiters heard about my score last night at the MEPS where I took the ASVAB, and casually approached me about my goals in the military. I told him what I told the Army: I want the immediate opportunity to join the Special Forces (SF) or I'm not enlisting.

He started telling me about the SEALs, and about considering Naval officer school because of my educational background, and about the medical problems that would preclude me from Army special forces, but that he could get waved for me in the Navy. He told me about how the Navy was probably a better fit for me and my ambitions. He told me that I had to serve two years in the Army before I can even apply for SF, but in the Navy, I can go straight from Naval OCS to BUD/S (Basic Underwater Demolition/SEAL School; this is the school you have to pass to get into the SEALS). He was very persuasive.

The Naval Recruiter also told me that my eyesight can get me DQ'd for SF. My eyesight is not perfect, 20-80. When I told him that I was going to get LASIK, and thus improve my vision to 20-20 or better, he told me that that would certainly get me DQ'd. Certain forms of LASIK hinder night vision, and this is automatic grounds for a medical DQ for SF. This is all flipping me out. I've come this far, I've made the decision to enlist, I've decided to leave the life I've worked for and completely change course, and I might get excluded because of my eyes?

Sergeant Anderson calms me down, tells me not to pay attention to the Naval recruiters, that they are just pissed because the Army is getting such a good recruit, and that this particular Naval recruiter is notorious for trying to poach recruits at MEPS, which Sgt. Anderson says is against the rules. I believe his exact quote was, "That fucking cock-slobber; I'm gonna whip his ass next time I see him."

He tells me that the eyesight issue is no big deal, it won't keep me out of SF, because I haven't gotten the surgery yet. LASIK would prevent me from any high altitude sky diving and affects night vision, which would DQ me for SF, but the Army will give me the type of eye surgery that won't affect my night vision or my ability to jump out of airplanes once I make it through SF training.

I think Sgt. Anderson is an upstanding, honest man, but at the end of the day his job is to get me to enlist, and he's trained to say just about anything short of a flat-out lie to do so. Nonetheless, he is good at what he does, and I feel better after talking to him. My doubts still exist about the veracity of the Army's promises, but at least I am not flipping out about them anymore.

But because we aren't driven by the exact same incentives, I tell Sgt. Anderson that I am going to see the Navy recruiter tomorrow, to explore my options and make sure I am making the right decision. I did a lot of research beforehand and decided on Army special forces over Navy SEALs for many reasons, but that I may change my decision.

Sgt. Anderson "That's fine son. You go talk to them. Get all the info you need. You're a smart guy, you'll make the right decision. But Sadler--you just make sure you come see me after you talk to them. They are snake oil salesmen and would ass rape their own grandmothers for a cup of coffee."

I go see the Naval recruiter the next day. The differences in the branches are evident just from the differences in the recruiting offices.

The Army office was Spartan and utilitarian. There was nothing there that wasn't essential to the job of recruiting people into the Army. The few posters and brochures that were there were subtle and understated. The pictures on the wall are combat pictures. The desks had nothing on them but pens, paper and phones.

In comparison to this, the Naval recruiting office was like the Playboy Mansion. They had a coffee machine that was better than the one in my corporate offices. Posters of action shots with SEALs and gunboats plastered the walls. There was cool little diving or ship memorabilia all over the office. A sofa in the corner of the office with a living room set up around it: TV, VCR, mini-fridge stocked with sodas. Pictures on the walls and desk of sailors smiling with native women in ports all over the world. And perhaps the most weird thing about it: The fucking place smelled like cinnamon. I swear to God--cinnamon. Like someone had been burning incense or eating a shit load of Cinnabuns. What kind of fighting force is this?

The first thought in my head came to me instinctually: These guys are pussies who are trying too hard.

I listened to their pitch about SEALs, but they couldn't answer any specific questions because none of them were SEALs. None of them had ever even seen any sort of the action that was on the posters all over the walls. Their answers started like this, "Well one time I was on this sub, and we picked up some SEALs after an op, and they said...," as if they were talking about unapproachable rock stars or something.

What the fuck?

I left the Naval recruiting office wholly unimpressed but still concerned. The Naval recruiter told me that the Army was feeding me bullshit, and that there was still a two year wait for SF selection, and that they always do this to trick recruits.

This did not please me. I was going back to the Army recruiting office the next day to settle this for good. I am not about to give up my life to join SF and be told I have a two year wait to get there.

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