Scar stories

MY ARMY STORY Part I By Ken Scar Photo taken just after I received my Combat Action Badge on Bagram Air Base, Afghanistan. I joined the United States Army in 2009 when I was 40 years old. I’m often asked why. It’s a good question. My stock response is that I wanted to serve, and the Army had raised its age limit during the height of our two wars. There was a window I could slip through, and my nation needed me. That is part of the truth. The whole truth is less patriotic: It was also a half-assed suicide attempt. I know that sounds dramatic, but at the time my life was dramatic. On January 5, 2009 my wife walked away from our marriage, on our anniversary no less, and to say her departure was abrupt doesn’t even begin to describe it. We’d been together for 14 years. Our lives, I thought, were irrevocably entwined. She left, and I uncoiled like a broken garage door spring. I couldn’t fathom moving on alone and didn’t want to try. A delirium t...

MY ARMY STORY Part II By Ken Scar With the III Corps Death Dealer mascot on Fort Hood. The great illustrator Frank Frazetta gave permission for his original painting to be used for this statue, and his signature is carved into the base. BALLS I was sent to basic training at Fort Benning, Georgia: Home of the Infantry. The experience was probably exactly how you picture it. It started before dawn on a cold October morning at the Denver MEPS station. I remember being shuffled through the building from one room to another, signing one form after another, and being handed a folder containing my paperwork at the end. I was the newest cog in the world’s deadliest and most colossal machine, and mundane paperwork was part of my life now. We were herded into a parking lot to stand in single-file lines – Marines in one line, Navy in the next line and so on. The Army line was the longest. We all stepped into place and stood there shivering, our breaths p...