Editors note: After several months of talks with the U.S. Army, we’re happy to add Staff Sergeant Joshua DiStefano as a regular guest blogger to MusicianWages.com.

Josh has played piano as a soldier with the U.S. Army for 14 years and is currently stationed in Belgium as a pianist and arranger with the NATO band. He brings with him a wealth of experience, several tours of duty and the blessings of the U.S. Army to tell us his thoughts on the job. We’re very proud to have him with us.

We’ve asked Josh to write about his Army job in the way that we’ve previously written about cruise ship jobs on our site. We want him to tell us the good, the bad, and all of the details in between. If you have a question about enlisting and working as an Army musician, please post a comment below and we’ll have it sent to Josh. He’s told us that he is really looking forward to hearing from our readers and to answering questions as best he can.

Expect an article from Josh about once a month, as his schedule permits. His first post is below.

Boot Camp and Military Music School

“Get those duffel bags over your heads, Privates!” Barked the Drill Sergeant. A huge intimidating man, with fire in his eyes.

“I don’t want to see any elbows bending! Hey you, straighten out those arms!”

It was about this time that I began to question my decision to join the Army Band.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this. I’d had a plan. Had worked it all out my senior year between exams and keg parties:

I was to going move back to LA and score music for film and television (I did major in film scoring, after all), with a fallback plan of being a rock star.

Upon my return, I’d landed a couple interviews with smaller production companies. They went like so:

Me – “How did you like my demo reel?”

Them – “We weren’t that impressed.”

“Oh.”

“Sorry kid, but we’re looking for someone with a little more experience.”

“If nobody hires me, how can I get any experience?”

“That’s a very good question… well, thanks for stopping by.”

And that was that.

Seeing as my rock band had dissolved, the back-up plan wasn’t looking so hot, either.

I needed a job.

I could have taught school. They were so desperate for teachers at that time, they were hiring anybody with a college degree. I could have hustled for gigs and taught lessons. This was the option of choice for most of my colleagues. I could have walked down the block and gotten a job at In ‘n Out Burger. They do have tasty burgers.

But instead, I enlisted and shipped off.

I left the comfort of my old bedroom (at my mom’s house) and stepped into the great unknown.

I was scared and anxious, all my friends were trying to talk me out of it. I had no cousins or uncles to ask about it. My Dad never served in the Army, and had no war stories for me to fall back on.

All I knew about the Army was what I’d seen on TV. Platoon, Full Metal Jacket (I know they’re Marines, but you see my point), G.I. Joe (the cartoon). Hardly an informed decision.

They promised me I would see the world , jam with amazing players, experience things other folks only dream about…. And they would pay off my student loans!

“I want to go to Japan.” I said.

“How about Alaska?”

“Uhhhhh…. ” stammer stammer. “…sure, just get me out of here.”

Shaved my head, said my goodbyes, drove away in a government car.

Basic Training

“Lift your duffel bags over your heads! Come on Privates, we haven’t got all day! Now drop ‘em!”

Machine gun-like thumps as the 40 pound bags hit the ground.

“Oh, you don’t want to do it together, No team players here. We got us a bunch of individuals! Let’s try it again! Lift ‘em up! Higher Privates, we’re waiting on you! Okay, on three, drop ‘em. One, two… three!”

Thumpity – thump. A far cry from the single unified thud we so desperately wanted to hear.

“If you can’t follow simple instructions, how the hell are you supposed to survive in combat?! You just got your buddy killed!! Now lift ‘em up!!”

This grueling scene repeated for about an hour.

Push ups, running, shouting, no sleep, more shouting, more push ups, less sleep. Meals woofed down in 5 minutes.

It was a long 8 weeks.

My main goal was to be invisible, have the Drill Sergeants not even know my name. I wanted to be a faceless body in the middle of the group. This was not as tough as it sounds. The beauty of Basic Training was that there was always somebody slower, fatter, or someone who had a real problem with authority and was just itching to tell off the Drill Sergeants (I could never understand where these people came from, I mean it’s the Army. What were they expecting?).
I just kept my mouth shut and did what I was told.

Run, shoot, roll in the mud. Counting down the days until it was over, and I was back in music school…

Military Music School

Similar to college, with more yelling, less debauchery, and lots of horn players REALLY into drum corps.

Sprinkle in couple urinalyses and the occasional room inspection, and you’ve got some quality Army music training.

On the weekends, I would pound cheeseburgers and pitchers of cheap beer with my classmates. This kept us sane. We were excited to graduate and get to our perspective bands. Sharing what we’d heard about this band versus that one, comparing Basic Training horror stories and college pranks.

And then, one sunny September morning it was official – I was an Army Bandsman.

I packed my things and headed north. Fairbanks, Alaska. I was the new pianist for the 9th Army Band.

It was the best decision I ever made.