1, 2, 3 -- BREAK!

Soldier and I are taking a little trip and leaving our home in the very capable hands of our adult children (and a friend). I'm taking a break from work, cooking, cleaning, tending teen/young adult problems and blogging.

To keep your interest, I have the following to say:

I will meet yet ANOTHER drug dealer. Not sure how/why they keep popping up in my life.

Still to meet another General.

Three helicopter flights. Second one ending in an emergency landing in a German farmers field.

Wanda comes back.

PLDC -- Oh PLDC. You gotta come back for PLDC!!!

The Faking Jamaican!

So leaving off here --- Staff Sergeant Newsome proves to be far more interesting from afar than in person. In fact, those were close to my exact words to my roommate after our first date.

Sergeant Melissa Dodge signing off. Will return June 30th.

Few Little Problems

Sad but true that everyone else's interest in SSG Newsome propelled my interest in him. As far as soldiering goes --he was the best. He had an impressive record; Drill Sergeant (I don't know why but all the girls swoon for the DS), Airborne qualified, Expert Infantry Badge . . . he had a military presence about him that was commanding. His voice was thunderous and loud. Everything about him was soldierly. Everything about him was strong. When you were in his presence you just wanted to jump out of airplanes and run 5 miles and fight for your country. He was a soldier inside and out --not just a guy on active duty or a guy in the Army. He was a soldier and the finest of any soldier I had every known. Sharing any space with him in the Army made you proud to do so. I didn't know then but years later I would come to understand just what the Army was to him and did for him.

But now we have a few little problems. First off, there's sweet Rob. I wasn't dating Rob but we certainly were spending more time together. I knew Rob and I had no future because I saw him as a guy that was going to jelly-fish his way through all branches of the service, giving no real dedication to any of them or any sort of a future. That might not have been his plan or path but that is what it seemed like to me. I was also still hesitant of any relationship that was not going to end in a cozy cottage situated someplace on the outskirts of Chicago. Yes, I was learning to let go and live my life but the process had just begun --I still had some growing up to do.

SSG Newsome far outranked me and though dating him was allowed, it being proper was another thing. Since he wasn't in my chain of command it really wasn't a problem but sometimes those rank things get dicey. I was mostly concerned for his sake and not mine.

I was afraid of SSG Newsome. I know sounds silly but I really was. Remember I had a healthy fear/respect for those that out ranked me. My Drill Sergeants, along with making me a class-A buffer, instilled that in me --the rank structure. Yeah, SSG Newsome was just an ordinary guy but he was also an E6, outranking me by 3 pay grades. In fact, this was such an obstacle for me I'll tell you a little futuristic story. I mean --it's no spoiler to the story that I did indeed marry the man, hence my last name and title of my blog. Even after SSG and I started dating --it would be months before I could even call him by his first name. For the longest I'd always refer to him as Sergeant Newsome. He'd always say to me, "Why don't you just call me Jerry?" WHAT? ARE YOU CRAZY? It was like some big Army asteroid would fall down on me and destroy me having such blatant disregard and disrespect for an E6 -Staff Sergeant!

We eventually went out on our first date -New Year's Eve. He took me to some club that had big promises of an all night buffet, live music, free party hats, etc. It was a bomb. I think he and I were 2 of 6 people in the whole place. It was boring. The music was so loud he and I couldn't talk much. When we did he talked alot about himself --I mean alot! We sat at a table. No real conversation. Sitting. Just sitting . . . just the most boring date of my lifetime! I don't even think we stayed until midnight. Yeah, it was just that bad.

So there really didn't seem any future for the Staff Sergeant and myself. After our first date, I had no interest in seeing him again. Lie. I did. Despite the boring date I was still drawn to him --afraid and uncertain and yet ---drawn.

I'll be back tomorrow! Yippee!

Now that I know who Sergeant Newsome is and who my creepy stalker guy is --I'm intrigued and scared. After expressing such little interest in CSG (creepy stalker guy) for so long, what if he now has lost interest? Well, there's one way to find out. Talk to him.

I find out from my roommate (that works in PAC --a sort of HR-ish place) that SSG Newsome works in the Commandant's office. Just by coincidence, the Commandant's office is ON our daily stop for Inner Office mail. You see, every day about 1500 hours, an enlisted person from SJA makes rounds to deliver/pick up documents, mail, etc. There are several offices in the headquarters building, headquarters company and a few other places as needed. I hated doing these runs because it was such "gopher work" and I hated the headquarters building! I only had to do these runs when the others were not available --thankfully it was not my job! Every blue moon I'd ask to do the run and the Private that normally did it was all too glad to get a break from it. My ulterior motive was always to run a personal errand along the way, get a break from the office (Crim Law could get kind of intense sometimes) or to run by the snack bar and pick up a little afternoon treat! So it was this one particular day I decided I'd do the run myself and stop in the Commandant's office to see you know --who I might run into.

I can see this in my mind clear as day --because I'd eventually walk this path hundreds of times --- out the SJA office, turn immediately to the left towards the HQ building, enter the main doors, show my ID (you always had to show an ID to get into the building), turn to the left, take the stairs to the next level, turn to the right --and the first office on the right . . . . I walk in . . . .

There were only 4 desks in the office, it was quite small and there sitting at the desk right under the window that over looked the parking lot --was one Staff Sergeant Newsome. He turned from his desk when he heard me walk in. He looked and smiled, sat back in his chair and I was as nervous as if I was standing in front of the CG himself.

Trying to muster up as much confidence and military presence as possible I said, "Sergeant, do you have anything going over to SJA?" Oh Melissa, you sound so stupid! Think of something to say! Be smart! Be Witty! Be confident! . . but he didn't have anything for us and I couldn't think of anything else to say but I remember thinking how stupid I must have looked and sounded and why oh why oh why on earth would a Staff Sergeant like him have any interest in a measly private like me. I turned to leave and he said something like, "Hey, you're not the SJA person that normally comes up here every day." I told him I was just filling in and he asked me if I'd be back.

Yes, most definitely yes --I'll be back tomorrow! Yippee! Uh no, that's not what I said, that is what I thought. What I said was, "Well, its not really my job but if they need me to I will."

And then I left.

Division PT

Division PT finally began --and I say finally not because I was particularly looking forward to it but finally because I was tired of hearing about it. It really was a dumb idea that only lasted a short while but for me, I met a soldier that was going to change my life completely.

The Division formation was to gather in the parking lot of the Division headquarters building. That in and of itself was a challenge as many of the soldiers living "on the economy" or military housing, drove to work each day. All of these vehicles had to be parked elsewhere. The other challenge was that the division was so large. I can't even venture a guess as to how many soldiers we had but that entire parking lot was full. In order for everyone to see and hear the sergeant leading PT, they put up a huge platform in front of HQ building and had a sound system with speakers. In fact, they had speakers all around the kaserne and played the song Danger Zone from the movie Top Gun. That was all well and good except when you passed them, you couldn't hear the cadence being called and to run in formation, you really need that cadence to keep everyone in step. All this for some stupid exercise. Another challenge was by the time we all got into a running formation, we practically circled the entire kaserne so there was no room to really run. So it wasn't the best of plans but when the Commanding General wants to do something, you just make it happen, that's all --and the CG wanted Division PT.

The SJA squad was in the very back. In fact, I think I was in the very last row. When we were called to attention I heard the most commanding thunderous voice I had ever heard. Like, it was the voice of The Soldier not just A Soldier but the one that epitomized what a real soldier was. It made you want to snap to attention and stand tall. Right after I heard that command I heard some whispers, "That's Sergeant Newsome." Oh yeah, I remember now. This Sergeant Newsome character was the one that was leading PT. I was finally going to see what the big-to-do was about. Psh --Sergeant Newsome --like I care?

Being height challenged as I am and situated in the very back of formation, I could not see the person whose voice I was hearing. We were doing our side-straddle hops, stretches and the like --all the while this voice just hovering over us. Women in the formation were still whispering, "Do you see how huge his muscles are?" Again, me --not impressed. SSG Newsome then commanded us to get into the front-leaning-rest so we could knock out some push-ups. So when everyone got down on the ground, I lingered for a little bit and I could not believe my eyes when I saw what I saw.

That's Sergeant Newsome????????? Are you kidding me? That's the creepy stalker guy that asked me to spend Christmas with him. So I stood there, for the first time realizing who this SSG Newsome is. He was wearing shorts and a tshirt and yes, he was quite the muscular specimen of a man. He was knocking out push ups a mile a minute --all the while counting and not breathless at all --as if he could do this all day long. So instead of me doing push ups, I just watched him and kept looking to the left and right of me as I watched other female soldiers doing the same.

I realized then I had not seen the best of it because once we started running SSG Newsome was singing cadence and wow, it was by far the best cadence I had ever heard. It was motivating. It made you want to run and keep running.

When that left foot hits the ground
I wanna hear that clapping sound!
Are you motivated?
Fired up?
Rock steady!
Oh yeah!
Feeling fine!
Oh Yeah!'
C-130 rolling down the strip
Airborn Daddy gonna take a little trip

After our Division PT we all went back to the barracks to shower and get ready for work. I went into the bathroom and there were quite a few other female soldiers in there and still talking on and on about this Sergeant Newsome only this time - knew exaclty what they were talking about. As they talked on and on this jealousy started to rise in me. I was thinking, "He's MY creepy stalker guy and if ANYONE is going to date him --it's gonna be me."

Happy Father's Day!

Taking a Army blogging break to wish my Dad a very Happy Father's Day!

And to the Father of my children -- Happy Father's Day from your babies' Momma.

Miscellaneous Things

In regards to some comments and questions I have received & just general information . . . .

My enlistment was for 3 years and my assignment to Germany was to be 18 months. After my training time and serving in Germany, I'd have roughly 6 months left on my enlistment. I had NO intention of reenlisting. Soon after arriving in Germany DA (Department of the Army) changed unaccompaniment overseas tours from 18 months to 2 years. I was livid! I went to my NCOIC to complain and he simply pointed to my uniform, the tag above my left pocket that read, "U.S. Army" and he said, "You know what that stand for? Uncle Sam Ai'nt Released Me Yet." So basically, for the time they had me, the Army could do whatever it wanted with me, including keeping me in Germany for 6 months longer than my original orders stated. Furthering my disappointment, I also learned that after my 2 year stint in Germany, having only 6 months left on my enlistment, I would not PCS back to the states. In order to get back to the states I needed a minimum of 12 months time in service left. My NCOIC referred me to a reenlistment sergeant. Reluctantly, I went to the reenlistment office, which was the first, last and ONLY time I stepped foot in such a place.

I was told if I took a 6 month extension to my original enlistment, I would be able to PCS back to the states after my 2 years in Germany. I was torn. I did not want to stay overseas for 2 1/2 years and yet, I did not want to stay in the Army for 1/2 year longer. In the end I decided I'd take the 6 month extension not only to get out of Germany sooner but also because I did not want my entire Army career to be at one duty station. As much as I longed for my civilian life to return to me, I did want to experience the Army to the fullest extent, within the time frame of one enlistment term, that is. I knew every duty station was different, not from my own experiences but from all the hundreds of soldiers I met and all of their stories they brought with them. I wanted to walk away with the confidence I had given the Army the best of me to my fullest extent. I wanted both an overseas and stateside assignment and so, even though with reluctance, I signed up for a 6 month extension to my enlistment. My total time served was 3 1/2 years, 2 of them in Germany. I don't regret that at all.

There are so many more people I knew and met while I was in Germany. I have specifically chosen only a few to mention because these are the ones that unknowingly changed me in some way. I met all sorts of characters, good and bad alike. I had far more experiences in the Army than I could possibly blog about. Some of those details I am omitting for personal reasons. Though I want to tell my story, like anyone, I do have personal things that are best left personal. Some stories I am not telling because they are one of those "you had to be there" type things. Like, hysterical to me --not so much to my readers. Other experiences are just too painful to blog about or hurtful in some way to someone I know. That's all I can say about that. Aside from that, these stories are accurate to the best of my knowledge. When I don't remember a certain detail, I state that right out.

The barracks building and rooms were never locked. In fact, I don't even know if the doors had locks on them. The building had full access 24/7. Our rooms were never locked and all of our things were always --just out there. We could lock our wall lockers, which I did only when I had cash to stash. Other than that, I grew tired of locking/unlocking it all of the time so I kept it unlocked. On occasion you'd hear of something coming up missing but for the most part, everyone respected each other's property. Seems odd to me now but back then we really had no issues not having locked rooms.

I have chosen not to blog about any of my European travels first for a time saving effort (I'm already starting to grow weary of writing these stories but I am determined to finish the story I started) but also because they really aren't anything spectacular or anything other than a typical tourist in a foreign country. I LOVED every place I ever went to --I might highlight my favorites in a blog someday --or post a few pictures.

There is only one person I knew in Germany that I am still in touch with. It's pretty hard keeping up with so many people that move every few years. I would love to know where some of these people are now --like is Tom still in prison? Did Medic S and her soldier husband stay together? Did Rob stay in the Army or move on to other branches of service? You know, had we had Facebook, email and the like back then, chances are I'd still be in touch with a few of these people but such as it were, I no longer am.

Most of these stories are told in chronological order --as best I can remember. I'm trying to tell the story in that manner however; sometimes my memory is vague about the timing of an incident so I just guess at it. Like the story about the "motor pool soldier" that was waaay off the timeline -that actually happened right before I left Germany.

My time in service pales in comparison to those that fought in wars, are serving in the middle east today and most certainly, to those that bravely gave their lives for our country. For patriotic holidays, sometimes at church our congregation will have former military members come forward and I am both awed and humbled to stand next to a WW II vet, Vietnam vet --or any of those brave soldiers that fought the fight. I am truly the least of these. When all is said and done with my Army time stories, you will clearly see that my country and the US Army gave far more to me than I could ever have given.

I'd love to go back to Ansbach someday though I hear Hindenburg is now closed (or has been turned over to the Germans) and the Ansbach I knew back in the 80's is but a ghost town in comparison. I think that would make me terribly sad to see but I'm a sentimental fool and I'd love to go back some day.

My Army career was very successful, especially the 2 years I was overseas. I was able to attend some pretty significant training and courses, I got military awards and made rank rather quickly. That was all due in large part to some great NCO's (non commissioned officer) I had appointed over me. Without their direction and guiding my career, I would have been just another soldier doing time --like a prison sentence. Its true, the Army does take care of its own.

I do have stories from basic training and AIT that are probably far more interesting than anything I've posted thus far but I started with Germany and that's where I'll stay. As I have done on occasion, I might insert a Flashback story, especially if its a seed to something that happened in Germany.

There were two things I had in mind to do when I got to Europe; see the Eiffle Tower and drive on the German Autobahn. Those things will pop up in a story soon.

A Soulful Bavarian Christmas

Christmas in Germany was so festive. Downtown Ansbach they had a festival. Though it was wintery cold, it was all outdoors but once you got into it, you didn't even notice the night time cold. It was Christmas German style. They had live bands that played you know --German music and the musicians were dressed in traditional German attire. There were booths set up selling their wares; jewelry, toys, artwork, etc. The aroma was so Norman Rockwell-ish only Von Trapp family style. They sold the most delicious candy apples that were made right on the spot. The gooey sugary goodness was in part the aroma that added warmth to the festival. Also brewing were roasting nuts, candied nuts and warm soothing drinks.

The little town was draped in white Christmas lights haphazardly strung about but adding charm to the simplicity of the scenery. It wasn't the grandeur decorations American style, which in this case would have taken away more than it could offer. Part of what made the festival so appealing was the contrast of how minimal the decorations were, giving way to the true spirit of the season which burst through the Bavarian air in song, smells and sounds.

I think the festival lasted a full week and each night as soon as I got off duty, I rushed into my civilian clothes and headed downtown. Living in the barracks with no tree or real Christmas decor, the festival was all I had in the way of getting into the spirit. It was so different from my American culture (not a Santa to be seen) I soaked every bit of it up. On occasion, I'd get a ping of homesickness realizing I'd not be home for Christmas but mostly, especially after had been home a short time ago, I was learning to better deal with the homesickness. It was there and I was sad but it did not over take me.

My dear grandmother had sent me several packages and in one she sent me a Christmas tree made out of felt that you put over an empty coffee can. I doubt she made it but I'm sure she picked it up at some church bazaar type thing. I had that sitting on my shelf and then all around it, the many presents that were sent to me from home. My roommates were jealous I had a "tree" and so many packages. I felt so loved. My family did a most tremendous job helping cope with my first Christmas away from home. They were all magnificent.

On Christmas day I woke up early, like any excited child would do, and I proceeded to my "tree" and looked at all of my presents. Yes, I was coping much better with the homesickness but that doesn't mean I wasn't sad. I was. It was Christmas morning and here I sat alone in my barracks room (my roommates were asleep). I sat on my bed alone and one by one opened each package. My heart did long for home but somehow I was still content.

Later that day my roommate and I went over to her NCOIC's house where several military families were gathered. It was my first taste Soul Food, though I passed on the greens which looked like mowed over mush to me. Oh and, I passed on the chitlins too. The setting and food was not like any of my childhood Christmases --it didn't feel like Christmas to me but it was nice, it was festive and it wasn't mess hall food! Thank goodness. SSG B's (the NCOIC) children were playing about with their new Christmas toys. It was nice to be around little ones as living in the barracks I hardly ever saw children.

Christmas came and went, like any other year but this year, I got to see it from two very different cultural views; German and that soulful southern living. Unknown to me at the time, I was changing from that sheltered suburban Chicago girl into a woman whose destiny was going to do a 360 turn. My heart was getting further and further from Chicago and what lay ahead was 100% the opposite of what I thought I had planned for my life.

Back in Bavaria-- Still Being Stalked

I was sad to have to go back to Germany but not as sad as I thought I would be and I was even a little bit excited. Serious! There's no telling what things transpired while I was gone. I mean, in 7 months my very normal family remained very normal but ah, back in Ansbach it was no telling what drunken person fell out of a window, what soldier went to jail, who was leaving their baby in a car . . . things over there were happening!

When I got back I learned Rob sweetly missed me. My roommates told me he walked around the barracks like a sad lost puppy while I was gone. That made me nervous because though I was beginning to walk this new walk of having been "released", I still wasn't quite ready for commitment, even to someone that had once learned to love Chicago. So I proceeded with caution with Rob.

Having gotten my belly full of family and Chicago, I was no longer hungry for those things and thus satisfied, I wasn't dreading my first Christmas without family. In fact, I almost preferred it as I was showered with packages and gifts, my family trying to take out the sting of not being home. Day after day I'd get slips to pick up packages and yes, even the infamous "panties package".

One day as I was picking up a package I had not noticed a soldier walked into the mail foyer after me. As I was ready to leave I turned and who should be standing there? Creepy soldier guy! That guy that I kept seeing around was standing between me and the only way out. No one else was around so I was certain this, our first encounter, I would be forced into talking to creepy stalker guy. I tried to pretend I didn't see him but really, the foyer was quite tiny so there was no escaping it. As I walked towards the door he said to me, "I've seen you around the company . . .and I was really hoping . . .I was thinking maybe you'd like to spend the holidays with me."

IS THIS FREAK OUT OF HIS STALKING CREEPY MIND?

"Uh, no --I already have plans for the holidays.", was my very cold response. I just could not imagine how he thought I'd choose to spend my Christmas with him --a total stranger. I went back to my room to drop off my packages and I just had to tell my roommates about the creepy stalker guy who had the absolute NERVE to think I'd spend Christmas with him. They agreed --that was kind of stalker creepy like.

Just before Christmas the Major called me into his office. He invited me, along with the other single soldiers in JAG, to his house for Christmas. I thanked him but declined because I already did have plans. I was so touched though. He insisted no soldiers spend Christmas in the barracks. I had no idea anyone even cared. But turns out, my roommate had already been invited to her NCOIC'S house for Christmas and had invited me to come along too. I have not yet written about her but my roommate and I were inseparable. Where she went, I went and vice versa. A few days later that same Major gave me a whole platter of Christmas cookies. Turns out, each of the wives of the JAG soldiers made cookies and they assembled them into platters for all of the single soldiers. Again, I was touched anyone cared. It really meant a lot to me.

And now, I'd be celebrating Christmas Bavarian style!

Released

Being home was amazing and . . . boring. The amazing part was that initial surprise when I got to see my entire family. Even today, when I'm really down or having a particularly difficult time with a family member, I recall that moment and its an instant pick-me-up. My family was gathered in the basement of my Aunt's house and when I walked down the stairs the reaction was --- well, it was indescribable is what it was. Instantly 7 months of longing, depression, wondering, sadness--it all melted away. It was as if as my family gathered around me hugging me, all those things were falling off of me like a molting bird's feathers. And once those things were gone, I discovered two things. First, I was okay. Second, my family was okay. You see though we missed each other and this reunion was exactly what I needed, life was still marching on.

I found my family to be just as I left them. I don't mean that they were boring --they were just the same. So here I was across the seas and meeting people from every walk of life and my family --they rocked steady. Amazingly, in my absence Chicago did not sink into Lake Michigan. The Sears Tower still stood tall. In fact, the city barely even knew I had left. I walked through my Army life with Chicago tattooed on my heart and soul and that city, not only did it not miss me, it didn't need me. My family missed me but they didn't need me --their lives went on without me and I realized, my life had to go on too.

The week at home was much needed. I was so thankful my Dad and step-mom asked me to come. It refreshed me and energized me. It took away all those ill feelings I had been harboring for 7 months. I'll never forget any of that --but what that week home did for me that was the most important --it released me. My heart was free to go back to Germany to live and to love. I was no longer bound, I was released. I had received my final nudge out of the nest and so both literally and figuratively, I flew back to Germany.

At long last -

If you read any of my earlier posts, you will remember I suffered extreme jet lag when I went to Germany. Well, it was probably jet lag mingled with depression but even so, my body had a very difficult time adjusting to the time change. Fast forward 7 months to my return to the states. I had not slept the night before (sat up in hard plastic chairs all night dozing off here and there), endured an 8 hour flight and now I'm in a whole new time zone again. The adrenaline from being so excited to go home was keeping me going. I don't really remember being all that tired. I just remember wanting to instantaneously be in Chicago -- *snap* just like that.

I remember when I called my Dad to give him my flight information I could hardly speak. I was on a real phone (none of that military business) -- STATESIDE talking to my Dad! Best yet, I was going to see him in just a matter of hours. Not days or weeks or months but hours! Glory!

I had an evening flight to Chicago. I was on a plane that had two seats on each side with an isle in the middle. Yeah, I have no idea what kind of plane that is but that is what I was on. Keep in mind, I was still in my military uniform. I wanted so badly to sit by the window because more than anything, I wanted my eyes to behold that gorgeous Chicago skyline when we flew into the city --my beacon home. But when I boarded the plane a gentleman was already in the window seat so I sat in my assigned isle seat. We exchanged a few polite words. I told him I was on my way home. He was on a business trip, having spent the day on Philly and on his way home to Chicago. He was dressed in a sharp crisp business suit with a bright white shirt. He had removed his jacket. I must have said something to him about the skyline, perhaps hinting I wanted to change seats. Before we even took off, I was out like a light. I vaguely remember the flight attendant coming by to offer drinks and the gentleman sitting next to me telling her to just let me sleep. It was that same feeling I had when I got to Germany --I wanted to be awake but my body wouldn't allow it.

The next thing I knew the gentleman was waking me up saying, "There it is --there's the Chicago skyline, you're home now." I lifted my head, which had fallen onto the man's shoulder. He let me sleep the whole flight like that. Worse yet, when I woke up I noticed I had drooled all down his clean white shirt! Embarrassed? Uh, totally but then I caught a glimpse of that glorious nighttime skyline --my home, nothing else mattered. As if sleeping on him and drooling all over him wasn't bad enough, I leaned way over so I could see out of the window better. I almost missed seeing it all together as just as I was looking, the plane was making a sharp turn and preparing for landing.

Landing!

I got off the plane and standing there anxiously waiting for me --my Dad and Step-mom. I dropped my carry-on bags and ran to them. I hugged them --I cried, my step-mom cried. At long last --

I was home.

And it won't be long, til I get back home!

I used to wear my faded jeans
Now I'm wearing Army greens
I used to wear my faded jeans
Now I'm wearing Army greens

Oh, oh oh oh
Lord I wanna go home
Oh, oh oh oh
But they won't let me get back home

I used to wear my mini skirt
Now I'm crawling in the dirt
I used to wear a mini skirt
Now I'm crawling in the dirt

Dress it right and cover down
40 inches all around
Dress it right and cover down
40 inches all around

And it won't be long
Til I get back home


Just a little Army cadence treat for you. I could blog for daaaayzzzz just about cadence. Hmm -- future posting in the making.

I put in leave to go home for Thanksgiving. The plan was I'd take a military (free) flight back to the states. Since flying stand-by, I'd not know where I'd be flying into --just taking the first available flight. From there, I was to call my father and he would get me a flight to Chicago. Only my dad and step-mom knew I was coming home. Even 20 years later, as I write this I can still feel that excitement in my heart. My hands are almost shaking thinking about it.

It's not just that I had not been home in 7 months, which is the longest I had ever gone without seeing my family, but it was how far away I was and how difficult communicating with everyone was. I was alone overseas with my heart and mind fixated on Chicago.

Flying stand-by is difficult. You never know when you'll get a flight or where you'll be going to. I also had to get to Frankfurt, which was about a 2 hour drive and as you well know, I didn't drive! I think a Staff Sergeant in our company drove me in a military vehicle. I'm not certain but that has a ring of familiarity to it. Once I got to Frankfurt, I signed in right away to get on a HOP (military flight). I waited hours upon hours --nothing came up. When it was getting late into the night and I still had not gotten on a flight, I had to make a decision to go get a hotel room for the night, risking missing any flights through the night but sleeping comfortably, or staying in the airport all night. I went with staying in the airport.

Well, I did not get on any flights that night but I did get to stay up all night in the airport (military), "sleeping" in hard plastic chairs and eating whatever over priced food I could purchase from the canteen. Adding to my level of comfort, I was also wearing my Class A uniform, as was required for travel back then. It wasn't until late the next morning I got a flight out. I couldn't board that plane fast enough.

My flight was uneventful as I was on my way to Philadelphia. I sat next to a soldier that was on his way home to get his mom. During the course of our 8 hour flight, I learned this soldier only had 2 living relatives in the whole wide world; his mom and his older brother. His brother was recently imprisoned having received a life-time sentence. The soldier didn't want to talk about his brother or why he went to jail --I respected that. He did talk a lot about his mother who had some serious medical issues and was not able to live alone. He went through all the necessary paperwork to get his mom added as his military dependent so he was on his way back to the states to pack her up and move her to Germany to live with him so he could care for her. His story was fascinating to me and for a majority of the flight, he talked and I listened. I wasn't bored or tired, despite having been up the whole night. I couldn't imagine only have 2 living relatives one of which was in prison. In contrast, I was going home to a whole slew of people I loved and missed, none of which were in jail. Just like so many of the people I met in Germany, this soldier was unknowingly teaching me a lesson. I think even I was unaware of the lesson at the time. But time and time again, the Army brought into my life people that were so different from me, had stories and lives that were in stark contrast to how I lived. Every soldier had a story to tell and every soldier had a unique path that lead them to the Army. Each story captured me and reshaped my thinking and my heart. This soldier was one of those people. Aside from his story, I don't remember much else about him except that he was younger than me and it seemed like he carried the weight of the world on his shoulders.

When we landed in PA I literally wanted to kiss the ground --American soil. God bless the USA! With the military flight, we disembarked the plane using stairs. We then went inside the building through a doorway, up a flight of stairs and then into the main terminal. I had never done that before, only saw that on TV. It was amazing to stand right under that airplane, which is far bigger than you can even imagine. I remember as soon as I got off the plan a "city smell" hit me. For the past several months having lived in Ansbach, a quiet little town nestled in the heart of Germany's farmland, I was used to a cleaner natural scent. This "city smell", which I can't quite describe, was like home hitting me right through the nostrils and yes, it reminded me of Chicago.

Finally, I'm standing on US ground and I'm on my way to Chicago. Its not San Fransisco but I'm pretty sure I left my heart there.

Rob

Rob (not his name but what I will call him) was an Army cook. He had been in the Navy for a while but didn't like it because he didn't like going out to seas so he decided to give the Army a try. 1ST AD was his first Army duty station. Rob and I would talk on occasion. The cooks had a crazy work schedule because they had to be at the mess hall so early in the morning and since it was open 7 days a week, they also had different "weekend" days. So sometimes I'd only see Rob in the mess hall as his coming and going schedule was much different from mine. One night while I was on CQ duty (as a runner), he stayed up with me all night. I was glad for the company because this particular night the Sergeant on duty was one of those power hungry hard-core type.



As a CQ runner you'd basically be at the mercy of the CQ. Most were pretty cool in fact many would tell you to go to bed and they'd come get you if they needed you. It was an all night duty so getting a few hours of sleep was most welcomed. Others wouldn't let you sleep but still not work you to death. And then there were those guys that just got promoted and wanted to flex a little E5 muscle --they'd make you work all night. That was the case this night. The Sergeant on duty had me sweeping and mopping and all sorts of dumb things. Rob was getting off work late, I guess he had worked the dinner shift, and on his way back to his room he saw me --in my Cinderella mode sweeping the barracks floors. He stopped to talk to me and before you knew it, we had talked and worked through the entire night.



After that night Rob was constantly coming to my barracks room to see me. In fact, he came so often whenever there was a knock on the door my roommates would yell to me, "Your boy Rob is here!" even before we knew who was at the door. I tried to be nice to him but after a while, it was just too much so I asked him to not stop by so often. I think it hurt his feelings because after that, he wouldn't even talk to me anymore and whenever I saw him he flat out ignored me. It made me feel bad because I enjoyed his company --I just didn't want it 24/7 but if he wanted to be immature and pout-- so be it. That was his choice.


Several weeks had gone by and one day Rob just shows up at my door. He started coming around again to visit me only --not so often, for which I was glad. We starting hanging out together and I knew he wanted to date but I wasn't interested. He was a good friend and I enjoyed his company but I just was not interested in getting involved with anyone that was not from Chicago. I mean maybe Indiana or Wisconsin or southern Illinois but Rob was from California. Strike one. He was a bit immature. Strike two. He wanted to make the military his career. Strike three --you're out!!! I didn't tell Rob any of this but I did make it clear we weren't dating --and he knew that. One day in the midst of a general conversation he said something to me that changed everything.

Talking about his Navy days he said to me, "I was stationed at Great Lakes for a while and used to spend weekends in Chicago. I really liked Chicago. I can totally see myself living there someday."

It was like instantly these fortresses I had built around me started to crumble. My heart was softened and I began to unlock my inner self that I kept so tightly guarded. This was a significant change for me that ironically, really had nothing at all to do with Rob. I had emotionally isolated myself from everyone for so long. I wasn't interested in long-term friendships or dating because I had one thing and one thing only on my mind -- CHICAGO! I wanted to go back there so badly it hurt and I wasn't about to allow anyone or anything to stand in my way of that. I was so afraid of getting involved in a relationship, of giving my heart away and then one of us getting shipped off by Uncle Sam. I wasn't willing to put my heart out there like that, to take that risk. But now here's Rob saying these things to me and for the first time my quest for Chicago seemed silly. It was like a light went on in my head and that light made me see Rob in a whole new way and now I was interested in dating him -which was over coming two obstacles I had set for myself. One, Rob was from California and not Chicago. Two, Rob was a black man.

Another Flashback

Today we're going back to my training days - AIT at Ft. Benjamin Harrison, Indiana. One of my roommates became a good friend --we spent a lot of time together. She had been married to a soldier and they were stationed in Germany. She loved the Army and in fact, loved it so much one day decided to enlist herself, leaving her husband and step-son behind. It was a sad story but I was always so intrigued what brought people to the Army.

She and I did a lot together, as we were roommates and both in the same class (Advanced Individual Training --basically, where you learn to do your Army job). She was shorter than me, if you can believe that! I think it was our height, or lack there of, that first drew us to one another. We both had many basic training stories to share where our height became a challenge for a certain task. Like many people I would come to know in the Army, she and I had many differences. For one thing, she had been married and divorced. She knew much more about the Army than I did. I liked her because she was smart and hard working. As far as roommates go, she was one you could rely on to prepare for an inspection. When you shared a room, it didn't matter to the inspector who did the work, kept the room clean, etc. Sometimes you'd have a roommate that didn't do their share of the work but was glad to revel in the glory of a passed inspection. My friend was not like that. She carried her own weight.

One night we were having dinner together in the mess hall, as we often did, and she shared something with me that made me realize yet another difference we shared. She told me was attracted to and would only date black men. Then as her nature was to be very blunt, she asked me directly, "So what about you? Have you ever dated a black man?" I have to admit I really didn't understand the question. Is it one or the other? Is this a trick question? Did I say something offensive to someone? No one ever asked me that before nor did I know how to respond. I thought about it and I knew the answer was no but I was almost ashamed to tell her that. Its not like I purposed to not date a black man but as I sat there I realized, I really had never known a black man.

So I'm pondering her question and then this black male soldier walks up to our table. I knew him, he was in our company --I spoke to him a few times but we certainly were not friends. He walked up to our table as if on cue, considering the conversation we were engaged in, and he said to me, "Ala has revealed to me you will be my wife." He lays a ring box on the table and walks away telling me he will talk to me later.
It all feels like a set-up. I look at my friend and she shrugs. I'm not convinced she's not in on some practical joke with me until she grabs the ring box, opens it and gasps, "Its a diamond ring!", she exclaims.
What the heck is going on? I grab the ring box from her and said, "Come on --we gotta go give this back." She tried to convince me I should get to know the guy and see if I like him. I think she's crazy. I think that guy is crazy! In the midst of her trying to explain to me why she thinks dating this guy is a fabulous idea, I said to her, "First of all, he's nuts. That's that. Secondly, we clearly don't share the same religious beliefs but even IF I could look beyond all of that, he's a black man and I could never marry a black man --my family just would never understand."
She said to me, "That's really too bad because I think you and a black man would have some gorgeous children together."
Well, I thought to myself, that certainly is never going to happen.

PT

Physical Training.

I don't remember how often it was but any amount of time would have been too often for me to have PT. Back then we didn't have PT uniforms so we'd wear whatever one wears to work out in. On occasion, we'd have a mandated "PT Uniform" which consisted of BDU pants, brown tshirt and running shoes. Mostly though, we wore civilian attire.



We'd gather in our company formation at 6:00am and after some formalities, there'd be some stretching, push-ups and side-straddle hop (jumping jacks). After that we'd be marched in formation, that "FORWARD! MARCH!" command and then the most dreaded words that I ever heard in my life would come. . . . "DOUBLE TIME! MARCH!"


Off we'd go running in formation. I hated running in formation which I can fully explain in two words - short legs. We'd all be running at the same pace and keeping up with those guys' long strides was a killer for me. I'd run and run until I simply could not breathe and then I'd drop out of formation --and that was never good. 1SG didn't like anyone dropping out of his formation. Fellow soldiers didn't like when you dropped out of formation. There would be the company running in unison then some stragglers trailing behind. Yup, that was me. The worst was when 1SG would make everyone run back and pick up the stragglers and keep doing that until everyone stayed in formation. Those that habitually dropped out usually got called into the 1SG's office.


It wasn't that I couldn't run because I could. In fact, I had never once failed a PT test my entire time in the Army. Sometimes at night I'd run 2 miles --just for fun. Yeah, I said it --I ran just for fun! 1SG wanted to see me succeed in PT. He wanted to help me hang so one day he came to me and told me I'd be the pacer. Now the person that is in the front row, far right column sets the pace. 1SG told me I was going to run in that position and the entire company would run at my pace so I wouldn't have to fall out. Fabulous idea!


The next PT formation just before the march 1SG called me out of formation and told me to take my place --so I did. We started our run and I wanted so badly to do my best. I was running my heart out. Look at me!! I'm a soldier!! Look at me running in formation!! All was going great until -- I could hear all of the moaning and groaning in the formation. The guys were all complaining and yelling for me to pick up the pace. I was running my heart out --practically sprinting and yet, here are these tall soldiers with long legs practically walking. Finally, as the guys could take it no more, 1SG called me out of formation. I dropped back and the formation took off without me.


Fail!


Later 1SG called me and some other guys from our company into his office. He had another grand idea. This time he told the guys, who were all great runners, they were going to be responsible for keeping me in formation. He put one directly in front of me, one behind me and one each to the left and right of me. So I was basically smack dab in the middle of formation. He told the guys no matter what, they were to make sure I didn't fall out of formation. He said, "Whatever you have to do, I don't care if you have to pick her up and carry her, you make sure she stays put in that formation."


It wasn't like I was in trouble because I honestly was trying my best. It had less to do with my determination and physical fitness and more to do with the fact that --I was short. The guys weren't mad either as I think everyone wanted me to succeed at this as much as I did. It was like big brothers helping me out.


So we get into formation and just before we start out, we all get in position. We started running and all was going well. Along with the cadence, the guys were counting and talking to me --keeping my breathing steady and my pace up with the company. All was going well until suddenly, I couldn't breathe --which is what always happened to me when I ran at this pace. "Guys, let me out!" I said but none of them would. The thing is, unless they made a way for me to get out, I had no choice but to keep the pace up. I couldn't stop --it would be like a race car slamming on breaks in the middle of a course --causing a pile up. If I stopped, every soldier behind me would stop or stumble. I kept running but all the while I felt like I was getting less and less air. "I'M NOT KIDDING! LET ME OUT!" Well, the 4 guys flanking me would not let me out. We ran and ran. I was certain I was going to die right then and there but before said death came upon me, the run was done. I did it. I ran the entire 2 mile run in formation and bonus, I did not die in the process however; I had a difficult time breathing most of the morning. My chest was hurting and I just never felt like any breath was enough air. As I write this now, I wonder if it had anything to do with my childhood asthma.


That was the only time I ran in formation like that and let me tell you --so glad it was! Aside from my disdain for running and my basic human need for air, it was stinky in there --running with all those sweaty guys. Later 1SG and I would come to an agreement that as long as I continued to pass my PT tests and could run 2 miles, he didn't care what pace I ran at --I just had to complete a run each day. That was a beautiful idea that worked well until the CG had a grand and glorious idea to have Division PT. He also had the most grand and glorious idea that the most fit person in the division would be the one to lead. And so it was . . . .everyone was talking about Division PT led by the one and only . . .

Staff Sergeant Newsome.

That guy was really starting to get on my last nerve.

Christmas Packages

This post is dedicated to my niece, Morgan, who is my Army wife kindred spirit, faithful blog follower and descendant of Meme whose stories will live on for generations to come!

Coming up to the holiday season I was getting a lot of packages from home. That was the bonus to being the poor lonely soldier overseas during the holidays --my family sent me Christmas gifts AND sympathy gifts as well! I got lots of stuff! As was the policy, each soldier had to pick up their own packages from the company mail room, which was only open about an hour or two each duty day. The mail room was located in the company building just down the hall from my room.

As required, all packages sent overseas had to have a customs declaration on it in which you had to list the contents of the package. On one occasion, I received a package from home that had been opened and resealed and on it a sticker declaring it had been opened and searched by customs. I wasn't sure if that was on the US end or German end --but nothing was missing or broken and I assume it was a random/standard procedure. The bummer about the customs declaration is that it revealed the contents of the package, therefore spoiling any big surprise inside. I usually tried to ignore the label as best I could. Most people were very generic in their description like, if it was a sweater they'd just write "clothes". That was okay but I still didn't like to see what was written on the label.

One day I got a slip that I had packages to pick up. Glory! Packages from home were the best! This day though was really weird. As I was walking to the company people were looking at me and snickering. I got into the building and male soldiers were saying things to me like, "Hey Dodge, how's your panties?" and other similar things, some not so "G" rated. I had no idea what was going on but I felt like I was in the midst of some stupid prank. Did someone break into my room and steal my underwear? Did I have a hole in my uniform? Did someone again steal my laundry? I was so confused but mostly paranoid. What exactly was everyone talking about?

I continued on to the mail room and picked up my many packages --cuz my family just loved me like that --I got lots and lots of them for days and days! The mail clerk that handed me my packages, a male soldier (there weren't a lot of female soldiers to go around these parts) he smiled and said something like, "Enjoy your panties!"

I took my packages back to my room and assuming all the panty talk had something to do with those packages, I sat down on my bed and read the label on each one. The mystery was finally solved when I got to one package that had a return address of Cecil Dodge, East Prairie, Missouri and read:

Fruit Cake

Cookies

Panties

Grandmother! Cecil Dodge was my grandmother, Meme as we affectionately called her --Lord bless that woman's soul! I mean come on --she gave no thought to the fact that her description had to be that literal. I'm sure it did not occur to her I'm a SOLDIER (trying to play the tough part --at least on the days I wasn't falling out of PT formations) living with MALE SOLDIERS (immature ones at that). The last thing I wanted on any of their minds was me and my panties! Panties! Why in the world did she choose that word to put on the declaration label? And how practical was that package? It was so grandmother-ish ---- Fruitcake for the holiday season, cookies to share with my nice soldier friends --and some fresh panties. Can you just imagine her thought process?

For days and days I couldn't be seen any place without someone making a "panties" comment to me. Apparently, the mail clerks got such a big kick out of it they proceeded to share the info with the entire company OF MALE SOLDIERS.

The fruitcake never got eaten (do any of them?), the cookies were in crumbles by the time they got to me so after picking out a few big pieces, I threw the rest away. The panties well, that's none of your business!

My dear grandmother! I miss her so.

For those following the Army stories, this post jumps ahead a bit --so far, we're only in the October fall time frame. I decided to jump ahead to post this story in memory of my grandmother, June 10th was the 1st anniversary of her sweet journey to Glory.

New Kid on the Block

Remember in school when a new kid would transfer in? Everyone would be all excited and the teacher would tell everyone to go out of their way to make him/her feel welcome. I remember just before my senior year in high school started we got word some guy from California was transferring in. Once school started, all of the girls wanted to date him. He was so west coast-ish --so "surfer California" type. There always seems to be some mystery that surrounds the new person. The Army is really no different from that. When a new person comes to the unit, there's a lot of buzz . The females want to date the new guy. The males want to date the new females.

I remember one particular new soldier. Everyone was talking about this new guy and I was so unimpressed. I didn't know him. I didn't want to know him. I never saw him. I didn't care to every see him. Apparently, I guess he was a very impressive soldier. Hmp. Who cares. Was he from Chicago? No? I'm so not impressed. I kept hearing about him and quite frankly *yawn* it was getting tired of it.

Remember pay day activities when we got to wear our Class A uniform? One particular PDA we had just been dismissed from formation and uniform inspection.

SIDE BAR: I'll just be brutally honest here. I hated uniform inspection because most of your badges and awards were pinned to the chest of your jacket. Part of inspection was making sure everything was placed every so perfectly. Most of the time it was a male soldier doing the inspection. So you would stand there at attention while some guy you didn't even know was starring at your chest. Sorry if that's TMI or inappropriate but if you really want to know what it was like to be a soldier and you really want to understand why I hated certain things --then there you go. Now back to our regularly scheduled program. . . .

So it was PDA and like I said in my earlier post, everyone was just in a good mood. The Pay Officer was shelling out cash, everyone was all shiny and bright in their pretty Class A's. I was standing at the CQ desk just talking with my fellow soldiers and I felt someone staring at me. You know that feeling? So I turned around and there stood this soldier, whom I had never seen before, looking at me. He saw me glance his way and he smiled at me. I did not smile back. I thought he was creepy --just standing there looking at me . . . . weirdo!

As the days went on I'd sometimes see that creepy soldier around the company area. He'd always smile at me in that creepy way and I'd always pretend like I didn't see him. The girls were all still swooning over that new Sergeant and I had heard just about enough of that too. For goodness sakes, would someone PLEASE date that guy and get it over with.

One night I was in my room and my roommate had been to the gym to work out and I guess there was some intramural basketball game going on so she stayed to watch it. Afterwards, she comes back to our room busting in the door and said, "Girl! You should have seen it!" At first I was all excited like I was going to hear some big story about a fight or something of interest . . . .but all she could talk about was that new Sergeant and, "You should have seen his muscles! They were bulging out all over the place." Here we go again! How could any one person be that interesting? Really!

For the next few weeks I continued to be stalked by that creepy soldier. He'd never say a word to me -just look at me and smile. And all over the kaserne all I would ever hear about is that new guy . . .

Staff Sergeant Newsome.

Whatever!

Going Home

It was late fall I got a call from my Dad. He said they, my Dad and step-Mom, wanted to bring me home for the holidays and I could choose Thanksgiving or Christmas. It took me only 5 seconds to decided on Thanksgiving because it was a whole month sooner. I wanted to be home. My Dad said he also wanted it to be a surprise so only he and my step-mother knew I was coming home.

I put in my leave request right away because around the holidays, a lot of people request off and I didn't want to stand the chance of mine getting denied. As was the procedure, I typed up my request, gave it to my NCOIC for his approval and then it goes to the company 1SG for approval. I requested a week off.

Not long after I submitted my request I got called into the Colonel's office. Actually, this was the same Colonel I stood before about the "motor pool soldier" investigation only, at this time he was still a Major. Standing at my best Parade Rest position and having the Major put me "At Ease" he went on to say:

"I hear you requested some leave --to go back to the states."

"Yes Sir, I did."

Now I'm worried there's a problem. I mean, the officers don't normally get involved in the enlisted leave time. I was certain he was going to tell me I'd not be able to go home.

"Is someone getting married?" He asked of me.

"No sir."

"Well, why exactly are you going home?"

What a dumb question, I thought! HOME! I'm going home because I want to be home!!! Seriously, what more can be explained?

"Well, Sir, I just want to go home. I miss my family and . . " He cuts me off.

"Listen Private, you are stationed in one of the most historical countries known to man. You are right in the middle of Europe with culture & history surrounding you. Your family is your family and always will be. They will be there for you when you get home --whether that's in a month or a year. . . "

Tears began to sting my eyes as I was certain he was going to tell me my Leave request was denied.

" . . . and what you need to do now is take advantage of being in Germany. Use your leave time to visit other countries and visit all those places you read about in history class. You will probably spend the rest of your life in the states so for now, spend the rest of your leave time in Europe."

I was too young then to understand the wisdom of what he was saying. Standing before him, all I could think about was how crazy he was to think I'd rather see the Eiffel tower than be home with my family. He was thoroughly convinced he had changed my mind. He asked me if I still wanted to go home. I told him I did but I would still travel before I left Germany but for now --I just needed to go home. "Okay then", was all he said. I don't regret going home to visit however; I do wish I would have done more local travel before I left. I did do quite a bit, but still wish I had done more.

But now, I had something to look forward to . . . .

I was finally going home!

Don't Ask, Don't Tell

When I first heard about Clinton's "Don't Ask, Don't Tell" policy for the military, I laughed. Well duh! That's pretty much been the unspoken policy all along.

You see, living and working in such close quarters as we did in Germany, you just begin to know things --things you'd rather not know, things you don't understand, things you know all too well and do understand, unspoken things, unreal things . . . you just begin to catch on. Like, we all knew pretty much who was doing what. You knew the married cheaters, the ones doing drugs, the ones not doing drugs . . . even without gossip or rumors or having witnessed any of it, you just knew.

One day after work I was walking through the barracks and a female soldier approached me. Now remember I told you --we had our own "Don't ask, don't tell" policy in that --we just knew certain things about certain people . . . and I knew certain things about this certain person too. We certainly knew each other as everyone in the company knew everyone -- but I can't say we ever talked to each other. She worked in the motorpool and always seemed like "one of the guys" to me. Her female friends, which I knew little about, lived in PCS, the company next to us. So she asked me if I wanted to hang out with her and her friends or maybe go to dinner. I was stunned because I knew exactly what she was implying. There was a bit more conversation exchanged, every bit of it making me ever the more uncomfortable, and then I went back to my room. She never did talk to me again.

Now I don't know what Clinton's policy did for changing the military but back then, homosexuality was grounds for discharge from the military. In fact, it was a question asked directly when you enlisted. I worked in JAG --this is what we did; put soldiers out of the military and put soldiers in jail.

A few months after my encounter with the motor pool female soldier, one of the JAG officers, a Major, came to me. He was working on a case involving some female soldiers that lived in my barracks and he wanted to know if I knew them. Remember, we worked at the division level so most cases we worked on were not directly on Hindenburg, where we were. The Major was doing a little bit of investigative work. He understood that soldiers living in the barracks together just knew certain things about each other --and he wanted to know what I knew. At this point I had no idea what the case was about --for all I knew she could have been called as a witness to another case. He told me the soldier's name and I said, "Yeah, I know her --I think she asked me out on a date one time." The Major's eyes light up --like, he just struck gold! All excited he said, "I'm going to need a statement from you."

A statement? Woe! We just went from zero to 60 in seconds flat! A statement?

The Major went on to explain he was conducting an investigation because several women were under suspicion of being lesbians and their command was trying to chapter them out of the Army but they were each fighting it & denying they were gay. They only had sketchy evidence thus far but a statement from me would help make the case.

Okay so another unwritten unspoken (just merely understood) policy in the Army is --you don't rat each other out. I wasn't about to make a statement against someone that lived in my barracks most certainly because I had no real proof or evidence of such behavior myself. Everything I believed to be true was nothing more than speculation. I wasn't about to be party to ending a soldier's career on such grounds. I told the Major I wasn't interested in making a statement. He then laid the file on my desk and told me to read it and he'd be back.

I read the file which was a lot of speculations at best, JAG had a very weak case. I can see why he was so desperate to get a statement from me. They needed something solid to go on. While I worked in JAG, I often found myself in these predicaments; I'd know some information about a case but I wasn't able to tell anyone in the barracks or I'd know something going on in the barracks that I didn't want to tell JAG. It was like this double life, work and "home" and never shall the two collide.

The Major returned and I told him I had no statement to make and no information to give him about the case. He didn't believe me but honestly, I really didn't. Besides my reluctance to make a statement against a fellow soldier, I really had nothing on this girl. The "date" I was referring to was implied --nothing she came right out and said. Certainly, from her point, it could be argued she was just asking me to go to dinner with her, like any friend would do. I explained that to the Major and yet he kept insisting I make a statement. He took the file and left so I thought I was off the hook. But a few days later and into a couple of weeks, he'd keep coming to me and telling me I needed to make a statement. Each time I'd avoid him or put it off. He finally came to me and said, "I am giving you an official direct order to provide me with a statement and if you do not, I will see to it that punishment is imposed on you for disobeying a lawful order." I told him I was not refusing to obey his order, I simply did not have any information about the case he was working on.

It wasn't long before I was called into the Colonel's office. The Major had gone to him and told him I had information about a case he was working on and I was refusing to provide him with a statement. I stood before the Colonel at Parade Rest, to which he told me to be at ease.

"Specialist Dodge, is it true you are withholding information about a case Major D is working on?"

"No sir, that is not true."

"Are you trying to protect someone you know?"

"No sir, I am not."

"Did you tell Major D about a certain female soldier that is currently under investigations that she asked you out on a date?"

"No, I did not."

The Colonel looked puzzled, "Are you sure? You never said that to Major D?"

Dropping all military formalities I relaxed and said, "Look Sir, this female soldier approached me once and did ask me to dinner. Did she say it was a date? No. Did she make any comments to me about dating? No. Did I understand her intentions were that this was a date? Absolutely. But is that something I can put into a statement? Not really. I can't say anything that could possibly hold up in court --that I thought she might be asking me out. I read the case file and there's no solid evidence to suggest this female soldier is a lesbian and she's denying it 100%, as are all of her friends. If I thought I had something valuable to add to the case, I would but honestly, I do not. I'm not like you or Major D, Sir. When I go "home" each night its to that barracks, not to a warm home that is shared with my spouse and children. I live there. I live with those people. I don't like what is being asked of me. I want to do the right thing but I don't think my statement is going to help this case any and so if it can add no value, why should I be asked to do so?"

The Colonel stood there for a few moments in silence then he said to me he was the lawyer and he'd decide what was valuable to a case and what was not. He said he understood what I was saying but he would like for me to tell him exactly how the conversation went with this female soldier. So I told him exactly how the conversation went. He then thanked me and told me I could leave.

A day or two later Major D came to me and told me, as if it were his grand and glorious idea, he'd really not need my statement after all however; if I heard or saw anything or had any more conversations with the "motor pool soldier", to please let him know.

Last I heard JAG was never able to make their case and that particular soldier PCS'd to a new unit in the states.

Sundays

In case you have not yet figured it out, I don't post on Sundays but if you stopped by today, thanks. I'll have a new post for you tomorrow.

Getting Back to Chicago

A friend from high school wrote me a letter while I was in Germany and she told me she thought I was the luckiest person in the WORLD to be stationed in Germany. I felt like it was a curse or a punishment. Lucky? What is so great about this?

She went on to explain the ratio of male soldiers to female soldiers and well, she was right about that. The male soldiers far out weighed the female soldiers. Not too far away were two kasernes Bleidorn and Barton Barracks (sometimes we'd go up there to eat in their mess hall) that were mostly artillery units hence 100% male soldiers. I suppose for a single female soldier stationed where I was would be ideal but well, it really wasn't for me.

I wasn't interested in dating any soldiers and the reason being, I wasn't interested in getting involved with anyone that wasn't from Chicago --because I fully intended to go back there and live the rest of my life there. I couldn't be bothered with anyone from New York or Montana or any place that wasn't home to me. I also wasn't interested in dating any soldiers because I also did not intend to spend not even 20 seconds longer in the Army, active-duty or as a spouse, than my enlistment time. Dating soldiers wasn't really an option for me. I was mostly interested in travel and working and counting the days until I'd be back home.

Its quite apparent in my pictures as most of them are of me and my roommate when we were travelling. That's it! When soldiers would marry, like Medic S, I would think how utterly stupid that was! How do you marry someone NOT from your hometown? How do you reconcile family holidays for the rest of your life? It made no sense to me at all. My grand plans were to do my time in the Army, go back home, meet the man of my dreams and live happily ever after in the Chicago land area. After all, what greater place would there be to live? Hawaiian paradise? Ha! Not me. The warm southern state of Georgia? Unthinkable! Ohio? Huh? Where is that?

I Salute My Comrades in Arms

In the course of writing this blog my memory had bee jogged to many things and recalling people that have not crossed my mind in years. It's been enjoyable for me to revisit all of these things and dig up old pictures. My hind sight has taught me many things.

When I blog about a person such as Tom or Wanda the story is significant because it changed me or at least began a change in me. Of course I met and knew 100's more people --most of which haven been long forgotten. But my encounter with certain people opened my sheltered eyes or broadened my views or changed my heart. It might not have been an instant change but as the seed was planted, I began to grow in new directions. I think that is why certain people or incidents have stuck with me this long. Someone once asked me, since it has been over 20 years, if I really remember these stories as detailed as I'm telling them and the answer is, yes I do however; I do not remember my entire Army career this vividly --just those things that marked something in me, dog-eared a page in my book of life.

It the realm of today's technology, it amazes me to have been overseas with hardly any communication with my family other than US mail. These days its so easy to jump on a computer and send an email, sit and chat on IM or fire off a text message. When I was in the Army we weren't even sending faxes, or at least not sending them in the manner we do now. I think that is what made it so tough being in Germany --just being out of touch and isolated. Certainly, every soldier's experience was not like mine as those stationed in larger cities had more things available to them. I was in the sleepy little town of Ansbach, Germany. There are some things that kept my sanity; letters and pictures from home, packages from home, calls from home, a best friend (I've yet to blog about), good NCO's that looked out for me and the ability to travel a lot --letters from home definitely being top of the list. I'd read them over and over and over gain. The pictures fro home were posted all over my barracks room and work area and they weren't there just for decorations --I looked at each of them every single day. I still have them all packed away in the basement and recently read some of them.

My mother's letters were typical mom stuff, "Are you okay? Are you eating enough? You look too skinny in your pictures. I have not heard from you in a long time. Please write to me and let me know you're okay. Are you going to church? Did you find a church to go to?" My grandmother's letters were short and sweet and usually about another sleepy little town but this one being nestled in the heart of the midwestern United States, East Prairie, Missouri. She'd write about her yard sale, Christmas decorations my grandfather put up or some little thing she was involved in at church or uptown (wasn't much). My sisters were usually the one sending pictures, especially my sister Val who was the only one married and with kids. She often would have Courtney, my niece, color (scribble) pictures for me. Those were hanging up too.

I don't know what its like now for soldiers stationed overseas but I imagine its much different that 20 years ago---I'd imagine their contact with home is via technology most of the time. Even still, I'd also imagine a letter or package from home would still be appreciated.

If you know someone currently serving in the military, why not sit down right now and write them a letter --even if they are stationed state-side. The best way to thank a soldier, or any member of the military, is to let them know they have not been forgotten on the home front.

I salute my Comrades in Arms.

More Crim Law

Part of my Crim Law duties was pre-trial confinement. When a crime warranted a soldier's confinement prior to trial, I was the one to make that happen. The prosecutor would send up a request then I'd have to cut the orders (type out the orders) and set them up for the CG to sign. All pre-trial confinement had to be approved by the CG. Each week, I had to prepare a report on how many soldiers were in pre-trial confinement and how long they had been there because just like the civilian system, their pre-trial time served counted towards their sentence.

I didn't do any post-trial work so I'm not sure how that was handled but I do know if confinement was sentenced, we had to cut those orders. I never went to court or rather, I had only been in court maybe two times so the defendants were just names to me, not people. I had no face to put in front of that name and in my eyes I saw most cases with "prosecutors eyes".

One day I was at my messy desk sitting next to gold dusty curtains, probably breathing in dust mites and carcinogens, just doing my pre-trial work. Never ever had a defendant come into our building and in fact, we were not even located were the trials took place (and we liked it that way, thank you very much). I left my office to do something and there standing at the top of the stairs was a prisoner. It was a male soldier, dressed ever so sharply in his Class A uniform (as was required for court), wearing ankle braces and handcuffs. The sight of him caught me off guard, stopping me dead in my tracks. I didn't mean to gawk, didn't want to stare but aside from being surprised, I was also maybe a little bit scared. There was an armed guard with him and a NCO from his unit. He had just been tried and was on his way to jail. There was something about his confinement orders that was of an urgent matter such as possibly we were coming into a holiday weekend or something of that nature. I don't really remember. What I do remember, and will never forget, is the look on his face.

When I looked at him shame and remorse were written all over his face. He bowed his head and looked down at the ground. Even now tears well up in me recalling this image. My heart was over come with mercy. He didn't look like a criminal to me. He looked like a young soldier, someones son, someones brother. All I could think was here was this young man who joined the Army, serving his country and made some bad and stupid decisions and here he was now. . . on his way to jail.

Here's the part that used to get me most. He was tried on a rape charge and this type of case was very common in our division. A young soldier say --18 or 19 goes downtown to a club has a bit to drink, picks up a German girl and they end up in a "compromising way" that night. Later the German girl has guilt or remorse or whatever or her family finds out (usually through a chatty girlfriend) and then it comes to light that this young girl was under 18. Now we have statutory rape. Does not matter if the girl was 17 and soldier 18. Does not matter if the girl lies about her age (which they often did). Doesn't even matter if the girl produces a fake ID or looks like she's 20! Remember, there was no drinking age in Europe so anyone could get into a club and buy alcohol. So now this dumb soldier goes to jail, Army career over, dishonorable discharge to follow him around for the rest of his life.

Now listen, I understand the concept "If you play with fire, you'll get burned". I do not condone any of the above actions. If you choose to live a certain lifestyle, you must be prepare to suffer consequences of such. I get that. I support that. I believe that 100%. Its like, "Here's a little tid bit, Soldier, if you don't want to go to jail for statutory rape - DON'T SLEEP AROUND!" But it was still hard for me to watch when it happened. My tender heart couldn't bare it sometimes. These soldiers were young and dumb and they'd be just blind-sided when the charges hit because like I said, often times the girls would lie about their age.

Anyway, this was the same charge this particular soldier was found guilty of. I believe in justice. I know justice was served.

I just hated to see it happen right in front of me.

HQ Building

This is where all of the 1st Armored Division magic happened. The Commanding General's office was located here. I was in his office once and it almost felt like I was in the oval office. The JAG building was siutated just to the left of the picture. Our barracks was on the other side of this parking lot so, if you were standing in that parking lot facing the HQ building, our barracks would be behind you. Well, there was the NCO club and then the barracks. This parking lot is where division formations would be held, of course there wouldn't be any cars parked there. The tanks look tiny in this picture (which should give you an idea how large this building was) but if you look closely you'll see one to the left of the flag pole and one to the right. The one on the left side of the picture is the one I painted. A few times I got to post the colors (raise the flag) or retire the colors (take it down) which was kind of ceremonial, patriotic and fun. I didn't really like going to the HQ building because remember, I was terrified of anyone that out ranked me and well, most everyone that worked in this building out ranked me! The CG didnn't use that front door but had his own entrance that was around the corner on the right side. This building was fairly new and modern compared to the other buildings that were on Hindenburg, especially the JAG building which was very old and run down.

Here's a lovely picture of me in my favorite BDU's and combat boots! Go Army! But actually, it's a dumb picture of me and I was only trying to point out how old our bulding was. This was the Criminal Law office --this is where all the JAG magic happened. My desk was behind me to the right of this picture --the messy looking one, somethings never change. You can't really see it here but on my desk was a pice of glass and under that glass I used to keep pictures of my family (mostly Courtney and Morgan) & post cards or letters from home. Directly behind my shoulder you can see the ancient word processor we used to use and look at that old school typewriter and yes, I did have to type documents sometimes. There's nothing too exciting in this picture but you can see the paint peeling off of the walls, the horrible gold curtains. We never opened those because though an outside view would have been nice, the windows were so filthy dirty, like YEARS of dirt, you couldn't see out of them. And those curtains had been hanging so long untouched, dust would actually fly off of them if you touched them. I don't know if you can see but just behind my head is another head, SGT Y, who was the other pre-trial clerk in Crim Law. He was working at the word processor at the time. His desk is the one facing mine, notice how neat it is? There were 3 other desks in this office that are out of the shot to the left. Whomever was taking this picture is standing in the doorway to the office.

This office was on the second floor and as soon as you walked out there was a very wide hallway and stairs. The stairs going up led to a third floor unfinished attic. I LOVED going up there because there were boxes and boxes of interesting things to go through such as; old ROT's (records of trial), personal property left behind by soldiers (some of it quite old), broken or retired office furniture, etc. It was a huge dark, dusty and hot room but I could spend hours up there looking through old things. The door leading to the attic was quite heavy opened with those old fashion skeleton keys. Whenever I'd have to take something up there, usually boxes of old files, I'd linger on.

This picture reminds me how much I hated wearing BDU's. I can't even describe to you how much I hated BDU's. I had bruises all around my ankles from the combat boots, which I thought would be there for the rest of my life --they eventually went away when I stopped wearing boots. At the end of each duty day I would almost sprint back to my room in anticipation of getting those boots off! First thing I'd do when I got back to my room was rip those things off. I hated wearing my hair up mostly because I was so horrible at keeping it up especially when I had to take my hat on and off everytime I went in/out of a building. That collar, which is sporting some Private Frist Class rank (E3), used to get on my nerves rubbing against my neck because it was so stiff from the starch. The drab boring color speaks for itself.

Pay Day Activities

I LOVED Pay Day Activities and not just because it was pay day. We'd only have PDA once a month, the first duty day of the month. Usually, we were required to wear our Class A uniform, the kind of dressy business suit type. We'd have formation and uniform inspection. I didn't like that part so much but it usually went pretty fast. I loved wearing my Class A uniform because it was so girly as opposed to wearing combat boots every day. Our BDU's (battle dress uniform) was the standard duty uniform (shoe-shine boy) so I was ever so happy to have the opportunity to wear heels and a skirt!

I also loved PDA because everyone was in a good mood. People get happy when they get paid, soldiers were no exception. We also got time off, sometimes the whole day, sometimes 1/2 a day or sometimes just a few hours off but any amount of free time was welcomed. The whole premise behind giving soldiers time off on pay day is that they were supposed to take care of their financial obligations --go pay bills. Keep in mind, we didn't have direct deposit so we'd have to go to the bank and if you had German financial obligations such as rent, utilities, etc. you'd have to exchange your American dollars for German marks then go pay your bills in person in cash. So the Army's take on this was that they'd give you the time off to take care of these things so you'd have no excuse for not paying your bills.

The first time I ever got a check from the Army I was surprised because it looked like a tax refund check to me. I didn't realize all government checks looked like that. Some of the guys in the barracks would play pay day poker, which I always found amusing to watch but stupid as ever. They'd play a poker hand with the serial number on their check, winner got all the checks. I told you it was stupid.

What I loved best about PDA was the pay officer. In our barracks, as usually right outside my room door, a small field table would be set up. A finance officer (usually a lieutenant) and a guard (usually a private) would cash your pay check for you. They were both armed, the officer with a 45 on his hip and the private with a M-16. The field table would have stacks and stacks of money --just sitting out in the open. You'd go up to the table, hand them your endorsed check and they'd hand you the cash back. I loved it. I don't even know why I loved it. I guess because it was so different than anything I had ever seen before --money just sitting out like that, not behind a glass or counter or anything. It was kind of comical to me, even now I chuckle as I recall the image of it. The pay officer would stay there until everyone had their checks cashed --he'd then pack up his stuff, the table and left over cash, and head back to the finance office. Oh, I forgot to mention the money would all be stacked into an ammo box, that's how the officer would walk over to the barracks, stacks of cash in an ammo box.

How Army is that?

The Medic

S was another interesting character I had come to know. She was very nice and went out of her way to invite me places and talk to me. I appreciated that however; S and I had very little in common. I really did like her but I am struggling a little bit to explain her.

Let's see . . . . she was drunk A LOT (probably more than Tom) and hung out with guys A LOT --she was ALWAYS upstairs on the male floor, always. If you want to read in between the lines as to why she was always on the male floor, your assumptions would probably be correct. When she drank which again, was quite often, she had the foulest language but when she was sober she was quite different. Guys used her a lot and that made me very sad because I think deep down inside she was just a little girl longing for love and attention --pure love, the kind that lasts. I think she joined the Army right out of high school so she was young. Like Tom, despite S's faults and the divide in our differences, I really did like her. As far as being a medic goes, she was 100% incompetent. In fact, I probably wouldn't have trusted her to so much as dispense Tylenol to me. But here again, I was learning how to look beyond those things and see a person for their core. The created being they were. There were many things I found I liked about S, her sense of humor being one of them.

Back in the 80's AIDS entered the picture in a big way. The Army had mandated every soldier be tested for AIDS. Since this was quite a huge undertaking, for our division we had to go to a big gym on Katterbach where medic stations were set up to draw our blood. It was in a very cattle-like fashion where we were all just ushered into the gym and stood in line to get our blood drawn. All of the medics in the division were called in to help, S being no exception. Those of us from Hindenburg had been bused over to Katterbach --soldiers were arriving in droves. The lines were crazy long & the gym was crazy hot. Each medic had a field table set up with supplies and one by one, soldiers were getting their blood drawn. S's station was empty. Not one person was standing in her line. None of us were dumb enough to let her stick a needle in our vein! I think it made her feel bad because S came over to us and said, "Come on you guys, come over to my line. How come no one wants to get into my line?" When a Sergeant noticed her line was empty he came over and told some of us to get into her line and we all just stood there. Then our First Sergeant came over to us and told us to get into S's line. Again, we all just stood there. The first and only time I ever out right said no to a senior ranking person in the Army was this time. I looked at my 1SG and told him I didn't want to go to S's line. He stood there for a second and then ordered me to go. I just looked at him, scared as I was but still, I wasn't getting in S's line, and said, "First Sergeant, I'm not going to let S put a needle in my arm."

By this time S had gotten some victims --er, I mean --patients in her line. Poor unsuspecting soldiers from other units that did not know her were only too happy to get to the front of a line and spare the long hot wait. I think had no one still yet been in her line, my 1SG might have pressed the issue and then I have no idea what I would have done. But as it was, he looked over and saw a line forming at her table so he let the rest of us off the hook.

One Friday night per her usual, S was upstairs hanging with the guys and getting drunk. I was in my room with my roommates watching a movie and just hanging out. We suddenly heard all this commotion outside of our window so we looked out and saw S lying lifeless on the sidewalk with a huge pool of blood forming around her head. In her drunken stupidity, she had fallen out of the third story window onto the concrete below. I really thought she was dead. It was quite a disturbing and frightening scene. It wasn't long before a bunch of guys gathered around her, each one also stupidly drunk. From our room we could hear more commotion going on outside in the hallway and people were yelling, "Call the medics, call the medics!" So I knew help was on its way. The stupid drunken guys were freaking out and the pool of blood pouring from S's head was getting bigger and bigger. It wasn't long before S was taken away by military ambulance.

We didn't hear anything else until the next day when we saw S walking around the barracks with a big bandage wrapped around her head. She suffered a pretty big head wound but other than that, she was fine. I wish I could write the sound of her voice in because it was so characteristic of her --just kind of crazy. Almost with a hint of pride in her voice she said to us, "Hey you guys, did you hear I fell out the window?"

S eventually married one of the soldiers in our company and no one, not one of us understood why he did. But it was kind of common soldiers married to escape living in the barracks and live high on the hog with that BAQ money coming in (insert sarcasm here). We all suspected this was the motivation behind this odd union as the pair really had not dated, they were as different as night and day. Once married, we saw much less of S and though I think she was probably still drinking quite heavily, it was most likely in the privacy of her German apartment she shared with her newly wed husband. I just hope it wasn't on the third floor.