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I had gone half a year with nothing on my sleeves. I was an Airman Basic (AB); some liked to call us Airman Barely or Airman Baby. In any event, I was a slick-sleeved bottom feeder. In the Air Force, you receive your first promotion from Airman Basic to Airman at six month, as long as you keep your nose clean. That means I went through basic training, technical training and a few months at my first duty assignment while sitting at the bottom of the food chain.

For six months I didn't know anything and wasn't really expected to. My job was to do what I was told and look scared, which I did fairly well. All along I knew that stripe was coming and I could hardly wait! I'd have something else on my uniform besides my name tag. I would get a raise in pay and finally get some respect. I figured that stripe would show people that I had some experience under my belt and I was seasoned.

Those last few days before my promotion seemed to move at the speed of evolution. Hours stretched on forever and I began to wonder if it was ever going to happen. Then it finally did. I was sitting in my work center, trying hard to do something or other that everyone else around me did with ease when my supervisor said we had to take a little trip. He drove me to the orderly room and ushered me into the commander's office. Inside was the commander and about a dozen other people, but I felt like there were hundreds of people in that room. I knew, in the grand scheme of things, that receiving an Airman's stripe was no big deal, but I felt like I was being promoted to the rank of "Somebody". After all, I was really just a kid and had never been promoted to anything before.

Someone called the room to attention and read off my promotion letter while the commander presented me with my very first set of stripes! I couldn't believe that someone as important as a lieutenant colonel could be bothered with someone so insignificant. I mean, he was a squadron commander and I was some boob who didn't even have a stripe on his sleeve, yet. But there he was, congratulating me on working so diligently and bringing honor upon the unit and my family. It might have only been one scrawny stripe stitched across my arm, but it felt like the Medal of Honor to me at the time.

There was a round of congratulations from the small crowd then it was back to work for this brand new Airman! It didn't take long for things to settle back to normal; after all I was still the lowest ranking person in the office. I still had to clean the bathrooms and empty the trash, but now I was doing it with a stripe on my sleeve. I was also earning a little more money for it.

Over the next few weeks, I began to notice that I was being held to a slightly higher standard than previously. Mistakes that were excused before were now met with an arched eyebrow and the question "Is that how an Airman is supposed to do that?" That's when it occurred to me that every stripe I earned after that would mean more responsibility. They would also mean that higher expectations would be held for me and if I wanted anymore stripes I would have to earn them every day.

Over the course of nearly 18 years, I have earned a few more stripes. Each one has brought a little of that excitement like the first one. They've also brought a lot more responsibility and sometimes almost unattainable expectations. No matter what they've brought me, none of them has meant as much as that first one did. I still have that first stripe, too. I keep it in a box in my closet. Every couple of years I take it out and look at it. It reminds me where I came from and helps me keep perspective on where I'm going. Over the years it has become more than just a stripe. It has become my compass.

Learn more about this author, Mark Murphy.
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