Andrew Bouchard was a medic in the 11th Airborne Legion stationed in Campbell, Kentucky. He seemed to be very fond of the time he spent with his friends on leave and explained how he kept civilian clothing or

"civies" in the back of his car so they could change. He explained to me that the military life did not fully agree with him and that the restrictions

bothered him constantly. Because of this, I believed a vignette based on a time when he did not feel the confinement of military life would be most appropriate.

Escape to Freedom

The Kentucky countryside flew by as Andrew Bouchard drove down the scenic road. Soft green trees and flat fields seemed a blur as he thought of the coming weekend. His right hand clutched the tattered, leather wheel gently while the other hung loosely out the open window. He was on leave for a few days and couldn't be happier to be away from the base at Fort Campbell.

He glanced in the rearview mirror and smiled when he saw a relatively large pile of men's clothing in the rear trunk of his vehicle. These pressed trousers, plaid shirts, and other articles of clothing belonged to his buddies stationed in Breckenbridge. They weren't allowed to wear civilian clothing on the base, so Andrew kept it all in his car until they were all on leave and able to go out.

It was early evening, the sun was setting and the air was cool. He enjoyed these trips because they freed him of the restrictions placed on him by the military. At Fort Campbell, he wore only a uniform, had to answer immediately to commands, and was identified by his number- RA1124. Like many soldiers in the 11th airborne legion, he disliked not being able to make his own decisions; and because of this, spending time off base with his friends seemed essential to his happiness.

Not only did he enjoy the freedom, but the break from his job as a medic was much appreciated. At work he was responsible not only for tending to wounded soldiers who were transferred to the base, but for giving new recruits their mandatory injections. The task was exhaustingly repetitive--sometimes he gave 800 shots in one day! Yet, when he was driving toward Breckenbridge, towards his friends, he didn't have to think about any of that.

When the fort first came into his view, Andrew wished that his friends had enlisted with him when they had the chance. If that had happened, maybe they would have been stationed together, therefore eliminating the 80-mile drive. Yet, they hadn't enlisted and because of this, later had been drafted and brought to Breckenbridge. He neared the entrance and immediately spotted his friends. The dying sunlight reflected off the gold on the their crisp uniforms, and their hair was freshly shaved almost to the skin, into the common military style. They were talking amongst themselves, yet when they spied the familiar car, they ran toward it and jumped in the back seat. Shirts and pants went flying everywhere as each soldier scrambled to find his clothing. Random chatter and an occasional hoot filled the car. When the transformation was complete, each soldier was now simply a young man dressed for a night out. Shirts were tucked in, boots were replaced by white socks and worn shoes, and the uniforms were placed safely in the back seat. Andrew laughed out loud, put the car into drive and hung his left arm out the window as they headed toward town.