Measured in Multiples

Author’s Note: The opinions expressed in this article are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the official positions of the Department of Defense, the Department of the Army, or any of their components.

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In just over a year, I’ll hang up my uniform for the last time—a uniform I’ve worn for my entire adult life. My retirement from the United States Army is just around the corner: an end to one chapter, the beginning of another, and a moment to reflect on the last 23 years. When I look back on my career, there’s one word echoing through every chapter: multiple.

Multiple Uniforms

Battle Dress Uniforms (BDU), Desert Combat Uniforms (DCU), Army Combat Uniforms (ACU), Operational Camouflage Pattern (OCP), Army Greens, Dress Blues, and countless versions of PT attire—each marked an evolution within the Army and within me.

I can still remember the stiffness of my first issue at basic training in Fort Leonard Wood, Missouri. I wore them day in and day out as I learned the values of the United States Army and earned the title of Soldier. Years later, I wore my DCUs on a deployment to Iraq, and ACUs and OCPs on various deployments to Afghanistan. Each uniform I wore, I wore with pride—knowing exactly what I was representing and understanding it was much bigger than myself.

Multiple Duty Locations

From the rolling hills of Fort Leonard Wood, Missouri, to the bustling ports of Pusan (Camp Hialeah) and the city streets of Daegu (Camp Walker & Henry), South Korea. I’ve served in the historic garrison town of Bamberg (Warner Barracks) and maneuvered through the vast training areas of Grafenwöhr (Tower Barracks), Germany.

In Texas, the heat of Fort Hood and the desert terrain of Fort Bliss each brought their own trials. Fort Leavenworth, Kansas, was a different kind of battlefield, where I was always on high alert inside the only maximum-security prison in the Department of Defense.

Deployments took me across the globe: Iraq’s unforgiving sands near Camp Bucca, Afghanistan’s city of Jalalabad and the rugged mountains of Tora Bora, Ukraine’s training area in Yavoriv, Israel’s southern district of Ashdod near a volatile border, and Poland’s strategic corridors of Drawsko Pomorskie.

I still remember the fear of my first deployment and the relief I felt when I made it back to American soil. Every location had its own rhythm, its own challenges. Each move meant packing a ruck, changing my routine, learning new terrain, and adapting to unfamiliar territory. It was exhausting at first, but it became second nature as I grew more senior and more aware.

Multiple Units

It all started at Delta Company, 795th Military Police Battalion in Basic Training, where I jumped off the cattle truck and ran to the first formation of my career as fast as I possibly could. After graduating, I joined the disciplined ranks of the 552nd Military Police Company, then the airborne grit of the 173rd Airborne Brigade Combat Team.

I’ve stood watch in the freezing winter at United States Army Garrison Fort Drum, trained new Soldiers in Alpha Company, 787th Military Police Battalion, and rolled out on missions with the 615th Military Police Company. At the operational level, I served in HHC, 18th Military Police Brigade, and at the 1st Cavalry Division Headquarters “First Team.”

The academic grind of the United States Army Sergeants Major Academy sharpened my strategic lens, while duty at the United States Disciplinary Barracks and later with the Army Corrections Brigade gave me a unique perspective on discipline and rehabilitation.

Some of these units felt like family from day one, while with others, cohesion had to be forged the hard way. I’ve worn patches that carry histories older than the wars I fought in. Some units tested my patience, others shaped my leadership—but all of them shaped my identity.

Multiple Missions

I’ve been part of peacekeeping efforts, serving as a stabilizing presence in regions where conflict and tension were always a breath away. I’ve conducted base defense operations, protecting critical infrastructure and personnel in garrisons and combat zones worldwide.

From there, I transitioned to law enforcement duties in the North Country, upholding order and discipline. I’ve patrolled the highways of Afghanistan, conducting convoy security operations under constant threat of improvised explosive devices. I’ve had the privilege of training new recruits, instilling in them the values and skills that were ingrained in me.

In the Holy Land, I provided force protection and training with the security element guarding the most sacred sites. Later, I stood watch over America’s most secure military prison—the United States Disciplinary Barracks—where vigilance and justice were constant. Every mission I was a part of was different, but the satisfaction of being part of them remained the same.

Multiple Training Events

I’ve lost count of the hours spent on the pistol, rifle, and crew-served weapons ranges, perfecting the fundamentals and remedial action through endless repetitions. Ruck marches chewed up my feet, while long days and nights in the field tested my endurance during various warfighters, staff exercises, and command post exercises.

I navigated medical training lanes, learned how to save lives under pressure, and stood before competition boards where every detail of my uniform and knowledge was scrutinized by leaders I looked up to. Police operations training honed my skills in law enforcement scenarios, while internment and resettlement operations taught me the complexities of handling detainees in times of war.

These weren’t just check-the-box events—they were essential to developing a Senior Noncommissioned Officer, the backbone of the Army. They made me faster, smarter, deadlier, and most importantly, humble. Because when the real thing came—like on May 31, 2008—I understood the difference between preparation and luck.

Multiple Friends Made

Foxholes forge bonds that can’t be broken. I’ve served with Soldiers I’d trust with my life—and sometimes did. Men from every walk of life, every background, and every part of the country and abroad.

I’ve built friendships with my German buddies from the Eschenbach Polizei, who showed me the meaning of local pride and professionalism. I’ve deployed alongside Polish soldiers, sharing the hardships of Afghanistan and building camaraderie through shared purpose. In Israel, I stood shoulder to shoulder with Israeli force protection teams.

At the Sergeants Major Academy, I formed lifelong bonds with international students from Bosnia and Hungary, whose perspectives were invaluable. Back at Fort Hood, I leaned on the grit of infantrymen and cavalry scouts, while the cooks in the field always served with a heavy hand.

Over the years, I’ve been mentored, challenged, encouraged, and carried when I was down. Some friendships were forged the hard way, others in classrooms or chow lines—but all of them became close enough to be considered family. Some of the best people I’ll ever know wore the uniform and stood right beside me.

Multiple Friends Lost

Some names I carry in silence, but others deserve to be spoken aloud so their memory never fades. On May 31, 2008, while deployed in Afghanistan, I lost two brothers: SPC Finley (driver) and PFC Shields (Platoon Medic) of the Military Police Platoon, 173rd Airborne Brigade Combat Team. Both were killed in combat, and not a day passes that I don’t think of them.

I also remember the countless Soldiers injured and those who took their own lives after returning home—men who couldn’t outrun the war that followed them back. Their battles didn’t end on foreign soil, and their absence is felt in the quiet moments between missions, in the empty seats at reunions and ceremonies, and in the faded faces of old photos. Their sacrifices live in my heart and shape the leader, friend, and man I am today.

And the list of “multiple” goes on—multiple injuries, mistakes, victories, goodbyes, and second chances. Multiple moments where I almost gave up, and just as many where I found a reason to keep going.

Now, as I prepare to retire, I don’t see my career as a single achievement but rather as a collection of experiences. It’s a mosaic of moments, people, and places that paint a picture of a life lived in service. It all started after watching the World Trade Center collapse on live TV and deciding to walk into the Army Recruiting office.

I have been many things over the years: private, NCO, Drill Sergeant, Sergeant Major, leader, and brother-in-arms. I’ve laughed in the barracks, wept in silence, and stood tall in ceremonies. I’ve been the teacher and the student, the leader and the follower. Retirement doesn’t erase any of it. It simply means the uniform no longer defines me—the experiences do.

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Sergeant Major Daniel L. Dodds is a Military Police Senior Noncommissioned Officer. He has served in every leadership position from Patrolman to Battalion Command Sergeant Major. He is currently assigned as the Director of Operations Sergeant Major for the United States Disciplinary Barracks, the only Level III maximum-security prison in the Department of Defense. His civilian education includes an associate’s degree from Excelsior University and a Bachelor of Arts in Leadership and Workforce Development from the Army Command and General Staff College (CGSC). He is pursuing a Master of Public Administration from Excelsior University. 

As the Voice of the Veteran Community, The Havok Journal seeks to publish a variety of perspectives on a number of sensitive subjects. Unless specifically noted otherwise, nothing we publish is an official point of view of The Havok Journal or any part of the U.S. government.