In 2001, I was a young, brand-new private who had joined the Army to provide a better life for his family. I also had hopes of using the military to pay for my education. But when I woke up on the morning of September 11 at Fort Benning, Georgia, I did not immediately realize how my life was about to change.

After breakfast chow, we loaded our belongings onto a truck and then marched over to our basic training unit. We arrived around 0900. My uncles had warned me about the initial “shark attack” by the drill instructors once we arrived. The first week would be the hardest. I was already so nervous I could hardly connect to what was happening. Yes, we did get yelled at when we arrived, but it was not nearly as bad as I had been led to believe.

After we received our bags and platoon assignments, we were escorted to our bays and assigned bunks. Before they left, the drill sergeants asked if anyone had family in Washington, D.C. or New York City. Since none of us really knew each other, the bay was quiet. Then, a few soldiers did leave. One drill sergeant who stayed with us did not smoke us or push us to exhaustion, instead, he just kept saying over and over: “We are going to war.”

At first, I thought it was just infantry motivation, the kind of thing I had heard about from older family members who served. I hadn’t yet connected the dots.

It was not until lunch that the rumors really started to circulate. The soldiers who had been pulled aside earlier were allowed back in, and the “private network” immediately began spreading word: the Pentagon had been attacked, and the World Trade Center had fallen.

My first thought was that they were just trying to mess with us and get us ready for the next 22 weeks of OSUT (One Station Unit Training). But since the drills were not yelling at us like we expected, that thought began to subside.

After lunch we were marched back to the bays. Then, all four drill sergeants left, putting a brand-new soldier PG (Platoon Guide) in charge to keep us busy. A short while later, they rolled in one of those old box TVs and turned on the news. We sat there and watched everything unfold.

That night, they let us call our families. I remember my grandmother being terrified that I might go overseas in a week. We were instructed to reassure our families that we would not be going to war anytime soon. But like me, my family did not yet fully understand military life.

We were a motivated group of over 300 infantry soldiers. Only one soldier failed to graduate due to injury and not a single one went AWOL. At graduation, our drill sergeants told us that was something to be proud of.

Looking back, so much about that first week stuck with me. We were supposed to be bussed to our unit, but the contractor could not bring the buses onto post, so we marched. There were no “shark attacks,” instead the drill sergeants were glued to the news in the day room that morning. The very next day, they had us standing at a gate with “black rubber ducks” (rubber M-16 rifles), staged way behind the real soldiers, Humvees, and Bradleys, as part of a show of force.

The week of September 11, 2001, was the beginning of a journey I could never have imagined. Over the next 22 years of active duty service, I came to believe deeply that Americans are strong and that we live in one of the greatest countries in the world. I have visited the World Trade Center many times, both at the temporary memorial and the new one. I have stood at the Pentagon memorial and a few years ago I saw the 9/11 Boots of the Fallen memorial at the Pentagon before they were removed. Each visit reminded me of how much was lost and how much unity we found in the days that followed.

One of the most troubling truths is that it took something so horrific to bring America together. In the days following the attacks we leaned on each other and stood united. We remembered what it meant to be one people. Today, it often feels like we are further apart than we were before that tragic event. Maybe it is because of technology, or the way people can now speak without consequence, spreading lies and division.

Still, I choose to hold onto hope. Hope that we can find our way back to that same spirit of unity, where truth matters, where respect is given freely, and where we see the best in one another once again. The challenges ahead may be different, but so is our strength when we remember that we are stronger together.

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Eric Arellano enlisted in the U.S. Army as an 11C Indirect Fire Infantryman, but reclassified as a 68P radiography tech after an injury sidelined him. He retired as a Sergeant First Class (E7) in 2023 after serving 22 years. Both of his sons and his son-in-law have also served in the military. Eric lives in Texas with his wife, Victoria.

The views expressed in this piece are those of the author and do not necessarily represent those of The Daily Wire.