When the Badge Became a Memory

I slithered through the halls, avoiding one final chastising from our hypocritical command. I stood in the drizzle and shook hands for yet another goodbye. I strode through the gloomy weather and reflected on the almost decade I had spent among the ranks. I thought about the friends I was leaving behind and how I would never again wear that uniform I had come to love.

I hoped, as I did when I was bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, that I had served my community well. From a cherry officer to a newly minted sergeant, the world had brought a whirlwind of experiences. I reflected on the shootings, the years facing down unfounded felony charges, the struggles we endured as a group, and the twinge of anger that remained. The anger rooted in the shortcomings of a department filled with flawed humans—the same anger that sat beside the love and passion I had for the job and for the officers who upheld the oath.

I strode through the drizzle as my heart and mind tried to reconcile their feelings. I walked through the dreary day as she called and told me we were becoming parents. My heart skipped as I thought back to the years of trying—the years of medical intervention it took to reach that moment.

I sit now, waiting for my last supper—one last meal among my partners and friends. I sit in limbo as a civilian, in the in-between, having relinquished one badge and begun my pursuit of another. I sit still, trying to rectify the whirlwind of emotions.

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Jake Smith is a law enforcement officer and former Army Ranger with four deployments to Afghanistan.

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.