This Program Rescued Army Recruiting

At 42, Joseph King had given up on ever meeting the military’s enlistment standards.

Then he heard about an Army program, launched three years ago during one of the worst recruiting droughts in U.S. history, that helps those who aren’t eligible to join because they are overweight or unable to pass the military’s aptitude exam.

In late August, Joseph was sitting in a classroom at Fort Jackson, S.C., with 13 other trainees, most of whom were half his age. The instructor was showing them how to calculate a salesperson’s income based on salary, sales and commission.

“What’s a commission?” the teacher asked.

The trainees were silent.

“Guys, I know this is insanely boring,” she said, “but we still have to learn it.”

Joseph rubbed his face. He knew what was at stake: health benefits, housing, a better life for his wife and five children.

Defense Secretary Pete Hegseth has credited the military’s strong recruiting numbers this year to a nationwide surge in patriotism and a love for President Trump. “What changed is a commander in chief that America’s young people believe in,” Mr. Hegseth told lawmakers this summer. “You can feel it in the ranks.”

Mr. Trump echoed the sentiment: “We’re getting the best people that you’ve ever seen.”

Mr. Trump’s election win and a higher unemployment rate among people ages 16 to 24 could have played a small role in improving recruiting, Army officials said. The Army’s recent success, though, would not have been possible without the program at Fort Jackson. About 22 percent of the Army’s more than 61,000 new recruits this year came in through the Future Soldier Preparatory Course, a senior Army official said.

Trainees in the program have 90 days to meet the Army’s minimum academic and body fat standards, or they are sent home. Those who pass go directly to 10 weeks of basic training.

A New York Times reporter was granted access to the program at Fort Jackson for a week in August. None of the dozens of trainees interviewed cited Mr. Trump’s election as a factor in their decision to enlist.

Many said they had come to Fort Jackson because they saw no other choice.

“I was tired of being homeless,” a 22-year-old trainee, who had grown up on a South Dakota Indian reservation, said.

A 34-year-old from Ivory Coast graduated from an online college that promised him an I.T. career but instead left him $90,000 in debt. Others had joined to escape home or to make their families proud. Some said their recruiters had told them that military service would protect their undocumented parents from deportation.

If he could just make it to basic training, Joseph was sure he would be able to keep up with the younger recruits. “I know it without a shadow of a doubt,” he said. “I know me and my competitive side.”

The class broke for the day, and the civilian teachers went home. The students, their camouflage pants tucked neatly into their combat boots, marched with their drill sergeants to evening chow. Thirty minutes later, they were back in the classroom.

Several trainees who had grown up speaking languages other than English quizzed each other from a list of vocabulary words that frequently appear on the test.

A drill sergeant noticed Joseph’s leg bouncing nervously under the table and walked over to offer help. Joseph’s white scratch paper was a jumble of numbers and equations. The same problems always seemed to trip him up.

“Why are you trying to overcomplicate shit?” the sergeant asked. “It’s so simple.”

Joseph erased his work in a flurry and tried again.

Trainees in the academic portion of the program get three shots at the test during their 90-day stay.

Joseph’s second try was a week away.

‘This was my only option’

Each Monday new trainees needing to raise their test scores or lose weight arrive at the base, where they are immediately greeted by screaming drill sergeants in Smokey Bear hats.

“Let’s go! Move your ass!” one yelled as the newbies rushed to find their green duffel bags. “I don’t have all freaking day to wait for you!”

Once they were in formation — backs straight, heels together, feet at a 45-degree angle — an officer gave them some advice. “This is a place where you find your motivation,” he explained. “You figure out your why, and you stick with it.”

The Army’s why for the course began in 2022, when it missed its recruiting goal by about 15,000 troops, or 25 percent. The following year the Army, Navy and Air Force all missed their goals.

The Pentagon was battling declining interest in military service and a shrinking pool of qualified applicants, caused by falling test scores, high obesity rates and an increase in young people reporting mental health problems. About three-quarters of American youth do not meet the minimum requirements to serve, according to the Pentagon.

Army officials tried to fix their recruiting problem with bigger enlistment bonuses. When that didn’t work, they launched the Future Soldier Preparatory Course at Fort Jackson. Today, about 95 percent of recruits in the program make it to basic training.

The Army still needs the program to make its recruiting goals, said Lt. Gen. Brian Eifler, the Army’s top personnel officer. The program also offers benefits that are harder to measure, he said. It has become a lifeline for people searching for housing, stability and a piece of the American dream.

The recruiter told Jonathan that he had to lose 30 pounds before he could even go to Fort Jackson.

“This was my only option to provide my family a future,” Jonathan recalled.

He worked out at least twice a day with the other trainees in his platoon. In between, they took classes on nutrition, where they learned to think of food as fuel, and on mental resilience, where they were reminded that all “pain is temporary.”

A few weeks in, when Jonathan’s weight plateaued, he began volunteering for extra workouts with the drill sergeants and was now down to about 260 pounds. To meet the Army’s body fat standard, he had to lose a few more pounds and another half an inch from his waistline.

The next weekly weigh-in and tape measuring — Jonathan’s ninth since arriving at the base — was scheduled for the following morning.

Nearby, Mayra Cruz, 18, of Ventura County, Calif., was squeezing in an extra session on a treadmill. One of the walls in the small, airless gym was covered with sticky notes on which the trainees had written their reasons for joining.

“To get out of the hopeless pit that my life was headed to,” one read.

“To show my family that I am not a disappointment,” another trainee had written.

Mayra wanted to become a tank crew member. And she wanted to make sure her mother, stepfather and two brothers, ages 1 and 8, were safe.

“It’s pretty ugly right now in California,” she said.

The weekly weigh-in and measuring for the 263 trainees in the fitness program started at 5:30 a.m. The women went first, their black Army T-shirts tucked into the bottom of their bras so the drill sergeants would be able to quickly measure their waists.

“Female! Why are you still looking at me?” a drill sergeant yelled when one of the trainees hesitated in line. Some cried when they learned that they had not lost weight or inches. Others received quiet messages of encouragement.

“You got this, female!” a drill sergeant whispered to one recruit. “You got this!”

Mayra, who had lost 21 pounds and five inches during her two months at the base, came up just short of passing. She had three weeks left to lose the last bit of body fat.

Once the women had finished, the men followed.

Jonathan stepped on the scale, which showed he had shed two more pounds. His biggest worry was his waistline. A decade earlier, his weight had peaked at 430 pounds, leaving folds of skin that no amount of exercise could melt away. A drill sergeant with cold hands looped a tape measure around his stomach.

Then he followed a strip of dingy white tape on the floor to the last station, where he gave his numbers to an officer who plugged them into a laptop and told him that he had made it.

He pumped his fist and smiled. A trainee from his platoon rushed over to hug him.

“This whole process has been absolutely life-altering,” he said.

He still had to endure another 10 weeks of basic training without his phone, his freedom or his family, but if everything went as planned, he would make it back to Ohio for Thanksgiving. By then, he would be a soldier.

The sun was rising. All the trainees had been weighed and measured, and now they were marching in a tight formation to breakfast. A drill sergeant shouted the cadence for them to repeat.

“My way’s the right way,

Your way’s the wrong way,

If you wanna be a soldier

you gotta do it my way.”

Another nerve-racking test day

It was test day for Joseph and the other 13 trainees in his platoon. They filed into a room with scuffed yellow walls and took a seat behind a computer screen.

A drill sergeant ordered them to lift their arms over their heads to show they hadn’t scribbled any notes on their skin. To pass, the trainees needed to score in the 31st percentile or higher. They had three hours.

Beneath the table, Joseph’s leg was pumping anxiously.

The first recruits finished with an hour to spare and strode to the back of the room. They dropped their scratch paper on a table, stood with their hands folded behind their back and waited for the drill sergeant to tell them their score.

“Let’s go!” a 19-year-old from Idaho quietly cheered when she learned she had passed.

She took a seat with a few other trainees who had also notched passing scores. “In a few months we’re actually going to be soldiers,” she whispered. “That’s wild.”

Joseph was among the last to finish. A drill sergeant asked for the last four digits of his Social Security number and glanced down at his computer.

“You got a 24,” he said tersely. “Sit over there.”

Joseph joined the other trainees who had finished the test. Those who had passed spoke in hushed tones about the Army jobs that might now be available to them. One trainee was hoping to be a helicopter mechanic. Another wanted an airborne infantry slot.

“I don’t care what job I get,” a third said, “as long as I get out of here.”

Joseph closed his eyes, rested his forehead on the table. Somehow, despite three weeks of studying, his score had dropped four points.

“I don’t get it,” he said to himself.

He thought about all the times he had taken the test and failed — at least five since he turned 18. And he thought about how much he missed his family. The youngest of his children had turned 1 only a week earlier.

The recruits gathered in front of the brick barracks where they attended class, studied and slept. Ten of the 14 trainees had passed.

Lawrence Flores, a 21-year-old from Guam, was among those moving on to basic training. A few minutes earlier he had been celebrating. Now, as he approached Joseph, tears were streaming down his face.

Joseph didn’t want to take away from his friend’s joy.

“Don’t think it’s bad because one person can’t go with you,” Joseph told him. “Savor the moment. Savor the moment.”

One last chance

A recruiter was waiting nearby to help the trainees who had passed pick a job.

Most Army recruits have some say over their career field. Those who come in through the Future Soldier Preparatory Course are typically limited to the toughest-to-fill positions — another reason the Army has been eager to keep the program in place.

First up was Bryan Soto, 27, who told the recruiter that he had joined to provide a better life for his daughter in Puerto Rico. He had raised his score by more than 30 points — the biggest jump in his class — and was hoping for a job as a helicopter mechanic.

“Realistic expectations,” the recruiter sighed.

His options: infantry, artillery or armor.

He settled for artillery.

The other trainees cycled through just as fast. The Army recruiter asked about their why, and they talked about providing for their families and pushing themselves out of their comfort zones.

Then she laid out their choices: “Do you want to train to kill? Do you want to learn to blow stuff up or do you want to ride in a tank?” Most reluctantly picked artillery. They were going to blow stuff up.

Joseph and the other trainees who came up short on the test were cleaning the barracks. He was trying to decide whether he should take the exam one last time or go home to his family. His drill sergeants, who could see the makings of a good soldier, were urging him to stay.

Joseph replied that he was going to “pray on it.” Privately, though, he said he was leaning toward leaving.

There are many reasons why people join the Army. In this moment, his lowest since arriving at Fort Jackson, Joseph had begun to think that maybe his why had changed.

“I’ve touched a lot of lives,” he said. “That was the main purpose. To see them leave and do good in their lives makes me happy.”

In the days that followed, Joseph decided to take his drill sergeants’ advice. He studied for three more weeks and on Thursday took the exam for a third and final time.

This time Joseph passed. He was on his way to basic training and a new life as a soldier.

Audio produced by Patricia Sulbarán.