I knew my Non-Commissioned Officer in Charge (NCOIC) would call my house once I did not report for duty and would eventually drive to my house to check on me. Once he arrived at my residence, he would find my front door wide open and hear the very loud music I had playing in an attempt to drown out the gun shot. I was certain he would (NOT my children) find my lifeless body lying in a pool of blood with my face blown off. Everything was going as planned on that fateful day, I kissed my children goodbye for what I thought would be the last time. Tears ran uncontrollably down my face which did not overly concern my kids, because they were growing cold to all the drama and turmoil a divorce inflicts on a family. I remember watching them both walk down the street until they eventually disappeared from sight. The feelings I was experiencing at that exact moment was immense shame, guilt, hurt, and a haunting loneliness. I remember walking away from the front door and heading downstairs in a complete haze. I cranked the volume up on my Kenwood system and then entered the guest bedroom. I remember loading my shotgun chamber and inserting the barrel into my mouth. I began shaking uncontrollably and just when I was about to pull the trigger I heard a very loud voice shouting “WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?” I looked up and saw my neighbor running frantically in my direction. I dropped my shotgun at that exact moment and began to cry as my neighbor wrapped his arms around my trembling body. I had never been so ashamed and embarrassed in my life. I really cannot explain what happened to my thought process during that ordeal but I realized I wanted to live and not die. I called my NCOIC and told him I needed help, so he immediately made arrangements with the base hospital that same day for me to get some much needed professional help. To be continued...

Brian Scott Sherman
Belleville, IL