Return to Base : Johns Island

A few weeks ago, at the height of burnout and a real period of darkness, I got a text from a friend that offered a glimmer of hope. He asked if I would be interested in attending a regional Return to Base event with a non-profit, I’m an active member of, called Patrol Base Abbate. Sight unseen, I agreed that I needed the break and desperately could use the community and nature therapy the event offered.

I found it doubly interesting that the location for this event was a retreat center geared towards pastors dealing with burnout. It seemed God-ordained, and perhaps I’d receive a double portion from this experience, given my history with both the veteran community and ministry communities. I was excited to go, and just the prospect of this trip on the horizon began to lift me out of the mire of grim thoughts.

Unlike my previous trip with Patrol Base Abbate, I wouldn’t be flying across the country to Montana. This event was just outside of Charleston, South Carolina, on Johns Island. This was an easy five-hour drive from home. Any potential stress from traveling was eliminated since I wouldn’t have to deal with TSA and the rigors of air travel.

The difference between this event and the one prior was that I only knew one guy going into this weekend, my buddy Luke, whom I met on the Montana trip. I was stoked when they had us sharing a room; it was good to catch up and at least see one familiar face. The first PBA event forged quite a few lasting friendships, with Luke being someone I text almost every week since our time in the western wilds. This event consisted of two or three of us who had already been to the Patrol Base in Montana as members of Patrol Base Abbate, and folks from one of the major corporate sponsors. There was also a mix of local veterans who knew the event organizer from either work or church.

The retreat center was a ministry of Seacoast Church. To say it was bougie would be an understatement. I felt like Southern royalty in that mansion. It was a surreal feeling staying there. The property was an expansive sixty-six-acre tract of land, complete with at least three large freshwater ponds and windows overlooking the intercoastal waterway. I saw dolphins and rosette spoonbills. At times, I found myself just staring at the Spanish moss swaying on the sprawling live oaks. It offered peace and wonder in equal parts.

The only requirements for this event were to meet for dinner and fireside chats afterwards. Everything else was a choose-your-own-adventure approach. Some folks just stayed inside and read; some used the golf simulator, played disc golf, or just wandered the property. I found my way to a fishing boat and spent time on the water. It was good for my soul. I caught a massive red drum—my first ever—and was amazed at how hard that fish fought as I reeled it in. The next day, I chose to fish from the same boat in the rain because I just wanted to be on the water. It’s hard to argue with the serenity of creation, and what does a little rain hurt?

Although the weekend was geared towards relaxation, I think there was something lost in not having to complete tasks as a group. That was what made Montanna so special and likely what made so many of us stay close years later. It probably helps that the austerity kept us cut off from the internet and the rest of the world at the Montana patrol base, forcing us to connect on a personal level much quicker. This isn’t to diminish the experience I just had. This event adopted a different approach, and truthfully, rest is exactly what I needed. I made new friends and had some great experiences; it’s a win for sure, and I’m eternally grateful.

The dynamic was slightly different than a normal Patrol Base Abbate event, at least in my experience. Most people had no connection with the organization before this event. For many, this was their introduction—and what an introduction! We traded sleeping bags and army cots for plush beds, all the amenities one could imagine. Those of us who have been a part of PBA previously were there as ambassadors for the program. All walks of life and branches of service were represented. As with any group of veterans, we all found common ground instantly, and by the end, we were joking and picking on one another as if we’d known each other for a lifetime. There’s a beauty there that I have only seen in veteran circles so far.

Vietnam-era veterans, recent retirees, and everyone in between were represented. The only requirement was honorable service. We were the first group to access the retreat center that wasn’t ministers. I think we set a good example for our community. I imagine our language had a little more spice than they were used to, but all in all, we were on our best behavior. The fireside chats—a staple for PBA events—were moved indoors to a fireplace after the first day due to inclement weather. Although it changed the dynamic a bit, the conversations were still good, and many folks shared from their hearts.

One key difference I noticed, given the location and surroundings, was the prevalence of conversations that led back to God. Since many participants were active Christians, and some even members of the church that sponsors the retreat center, there seemed less barriers to talk about matters of faith. It was refreshing to be vulnerable and available during these conversations with one another. The key takeaway after events like these is the universality of our shared experiences with service, mission, purpose, and many of the other struggles we face. It puts in perspective that although you may feel alone, you’re not.

Organizations like Patrol Base Abbate make it their mission to get veterans connected to community and allow them to heal in tandem with others who likely chewed the same dirt you did once upon a time. Whether you served in the jungles of Vietnam, the deserts of Iraq, or some stateside training base, you belong. Your service matters whether you turned a wrench, served chow, or kicked in doors on some super-secret special operations mission. There is no distinction. No one was “just a [insert self-deprecating title here].” If you served, you’re enough, and you’re welcome behind friendly lines.

My Red Drum and my boat mates

Luke Wood and I at the massive dinner table overlooking the sound.

Check out my article about the Montana Return To Base Event:

Learn more about Patrol Base Abbate: CLICK HERE

Learn more about the Pastors Collective and the Retreat at Church Creek Click HERE