Philosopher kings

irving gonzalez: The main thing is, I want out. I don’t want to go into the Army.

sergeant glenn marquette: Well, you need to talk to my company commander.

gonzalez: To your company commander?

marquette: Mm-hmm. You need to come in here, and I need to bring you to my company commander.

gonzalez: But is there a way out? Is there a way for me to get out? Because I don’t want to go in there if you are just going to—

marquette: No, there is not a way out. You signed a binding contract. When you sign a contract—

gonzalez: But I’d probably be able to get scholarships.

marquette: You need a full-ride scholarship, full ride, to a state university—UT, A & M. Full ride. That means everything is paid for—classes, books, lodging, breakfast, lunch, and dinner—all paid for, not no partial scholarship, not no FAA scholarship, not no First Citizen Bank scholarship. No, we’re talking full-ride scholarship, because there ain’t no partial scholarship out there that even comes close to what the Army’s giving you for college. It’s forty-plus thousand dollars.

gonzalez: Yeah, I know, but, I mean, it’s kind of like a family thing, too. I’d rather just stay here. What if I just don’t show up?

marquette: Then, guess what? You’re AWOL, absent without leave, punishable under the Uniform Code of Military Justice, Article 86: deserter. It’s in your contract. Read it. It’s clear as day. So then guess what happens?

gonzalez: What’s that?

marquette: This is what will happen. You want to go to school? You will not get no loans, because all college loans are federal and government loans. So you’ll be black-marked from that. As soon as you get pulled over for a speeding ticket or anything with the law, they’re gonna see you’re a deserter. Then they’re going to apprehend you, take you to jail. They’re going to call up the military police at the nearest military installation, and correctional officers will come down there, pick you up, detain you, put you on a plane, and take you to Missouri, where you will do your time as a deserter. So guess what? All that lovey-dovey “I want to go to college”? You just threw it out the window, because you just screwed your life.

gonzalez: Um—

marquette: You can do that. I got a prime-proof living example who did that. I can call her right now. Her name is Kendra Mosley. She did the same thing. And she begged me to help her. “Help me! Help me!” I said, “Nope. I ain’t helping you do shit. You just sit in there and do your time.”

gonzalez: So I’m just essentially screwed. When can I sit down with you all?

marquette: You can sit down and talk to us all you want, but it don’t change a thing.

gonzalez: You said you wanted me to talk to—

marquette: You just gotta talk to all my people so we can log that we talked to you, so we don’t get in trouble. That’s the way it works. There’s a right way to do things, and there’s a wrong way to do things.

gonzalez: Okay. Well, I mean—

marquette: If you get into basic training and you don’t like it, tell the chaplain you don’t like it. That’s the right way to get out of the Army. Then they’ll process you out of the Army, and they’ll tell you to adapt, and there’s nothing against your record.

gonzalez: That would be the right way to do it?

marquette: Yeah, and you can come back home and do your thing. And then, also, guess what? If you do it that way, maybe they’ll even want you in the future. You may say, “Well, damn, I’m coming to join the Army this time.” Then, guess what? You can. You can join then, because you got out of the Army the right way. You at least got to go to basic training and try it. So whenever you wanna come in, I’ll show you your contract and you can read it—black and white. I don’t bullcrap around. I’m a straight-up-and-front person. I don’t blackball people. I don’t screw people around the corner. I’m up-front and honest. I don’t sugarcoat nothing. I never have in my lifetime, and I never will. It was your intention to join the Army, but now all of a sudden the grass is greener on the other side since you graduated. You’re a man now. You’ve seen the light—whatever you’re thinking. I don’t know what you’re thinking. I joined the Army fifteen years ago. It’s your future, not mine, son. I already have one.