Roommates - SL

I had plenty of them --they'd come and go just like anything else in the Army.

SL was from California. She was quite a beautiful young lady --had even done some modeling. In my very humble opinion though, she wore much too much makeup--hid all that beautiful porcelain skin under layers of foundation. She was a slob beyond your normal slobs. She hardly ever did laundry and in fact, I think her clothes only got washed when they'd had enough and would walk themselves into the washer. It wasn't uncommon to see her picking clothes off of the floor and smelling them to see if they were still "wearable". She tried too hard at being fashion forward and so often she just looked like she was over accessorized or overly done or something. As far as soldiering goes --she was always a mess. Her long brown locks, which had to be pinned up above the collar, were always tumbling down out of their bobby pins looking nothing short of a spider web. She never ironed her uniform and polishing her boots was just unheard of. She was slow to get promoted. She drove a lot and ran errands a lot --that's really all I remember her doing. She had a boyfriend and they dated almost the entire time we were in Germany --I think he broke up with her just before he (or she) left. SL was funny and crazy. She was sweet as ever and would do anything for you and give to you anything she had. She used to cook on her iron (lord knows she wasn't using it to iron clothes). She would make grilled cheese, bacon, eggs, toast --just about anything that wasn't too soupy. I'll never forget one time I walked into the room and there she sat holding her iron upside down with bread on it. I asked what she was doing and she said, "Making breakfast." SL was a bit of an air-head and it was comical sometimes to see the light bulb go off in her head sometimes. She often had music playing and never ever got the lyrics right --but she sang what she thought they were. Sometimes I couldn't help but bust out laughing. She never talked much about her family except occasionally about her mom. I always found that quite odd --when people didn't talk insistently about their families, like I did. SL and the Army seemed like an unlikely pair and me and our other roommates often wondered how she even got through basic training. SL and I got along quite well. We never had any disagreements except for occasionally when her area got messy beyond what I could bear to look at, I'd tell her she needed to straighten up and she'd just roll her eyes and in her Valley Girl way say, "Yeah, I know. You guys must hate me!" I never hated SL.

SL ADORED her boyfriend and I think had hopes of marrying him but their 2 year relationship went sour when it was time for them to leave. I don't remember what ever happened to SL because after I moved out the the barracks I rarely saw her anymore. I have a vague recollection of her going off to a new duty station --but that I can't be sure of.

As far as roommates go, she was one of my favorites. She kept us all quite entertained.

Connie

Well Melissa, did you not have any girlfriends? I mean come on now --enough with the convicts, drug users and guys you "didn't date".

The answer is yes and no. Yes, I most certainly did have girlfriends. You have to understand there weren't many of us --females that is. So in some ways Tom and Rob and TD --they were all my "girlfriends" too. But I certainly did have female friends and my roommates and I always got along quite well.

Its kind of like this --the average was about --Oh I don't know let's say 30% females. From that 30% pool you discount any married women as all they wanted to do is hang out with their husbands, take care of their kids, etc. Then you have the ones that have a boyfriend and just take them out of the mix too because all they want to do is hang out with their boyfriend (like the one couple that always dressed alike and would have matching tshirts made with each other's name on them --I digress . . ). Now we take out of the mix the females that um --you know, preferred only female companionship and only wanted to be with females that shared that same interest. From what is left there are the ones you simply have nothing in common with. So what's left? Connie.

Connie was my roommate both in the barracks and later when we got an apartment together. We became good friends almost immediately and stayed ever so close our entire time in Germany. She had been "in country" a few months longer than me and so she also left a few months before me. We were absolutely inseparable to the extent everyone commented to that end, "When I see you (pointing to me) I see her (pointing to Connie)", was quite a common thing for the two of us to hear. Every day, and I do mean every single day, we'd go back to our barracks room for lunch and catch up with each other on the day -- She worked in PAC (like an HR of sorts) and so she always knew what was coming down the pipeline before anyone else did --and would always fill me in too. She and I spent countless hours talking about our families. She had a younger brother she was particularly extra fond of --and of course her Mom. For all of my travel expeditions, she was my travel companion. We'd hop on a train and make our way through Germany or get a weekend tour for a different country such as England or France.

Connie was everything to me, as far as friends go and without her I probably would have absolutely lost my mind over there in Germany. It was a tough assignment and the Army is a tough place to be especially for women. Connie always "had my back" but what I valued more than anything in our friendship was she was a person I could trust explicitly. Our company and living in the barracks was much like a small town --and small town gossip abounded. It was hard to know who you could trust sometimes. Because of my friendship with Connie, I was able to pull away from that --to not get caught up in the mix of it. We spent every holiday together and when we got our apartment, we put up a tree, decorated our apartment and made a Christmas meal.

I haven't blogged about Connie up until now because I knew it was going to be difficult for me to do for two reasons. One is that I simply cannot put into words what her friendship meant to me. I loved her like a sister. Secondly, its hurtful because Connie and I have not spoken in years and in fact, after leaving Germany we only spoke a few times, sent each other Christmas cards here and there but we never did see each other after the day she left Germany. Something happened, which I will not blog about, and it kind of changed things.

But in my heart of hearts, I still love her like my very own sister. I have the best and fondest memories of living and traveling with her in Germany and all over Europe. I couldn't possibly tell my Army story without mention of her --she was 90% of all my experiences while I was stationed at 1st AD. At times like this, recalling the past, I miss her terribly.

Last I heard she was living in Atlanta, GA and had a baby girl. I have no idea where she is now but I hope someday when I sign onto Facebook and see that message, "1 Friends Request", I'll click on it and there it will say Connie has sent me a friend request. She is the main reason I put my maiden name on my Facebook, Melissa Dodge Newsome, in case she's ever trying to find me.

So Connie, if you're out there -- give me a call!

Shopping for Make-up with a Convicted Felon

I guess I should explain something. NCOIC, Non-Commission Officer In Charge --and I had two of them. There was the NCOIC of Criminal Law and the NCOIC of the entire SJA office. The beauty of the Army is the Chain of Command. As long as you never break it, as in skip someone in that chain, it works beautifully.

The Crim Law NCOIC was the one that told me I couldn't go to court because he folded under the pressure of the very persistent prosecutor. I exercised my right to go up the chain and so I went to the SJA NCOIC. He didn't think there was a problem with me going and so he told the lower ranking Crim Law NCOIC to let me go. Yes, I did get my way a lot around there but that was because anything and everything that was expected of me (and then some), I did. It wasn't unusual for me to be at work late nights, weekends --in fact, I spent a lot of Sunday afternoons alone in the office preparing things for the week. I did tend to get my way a lot but I also earned that right.

SGT R and I headed off for court along with some other battalion JAG clerks. The prosecutor was none too happy to see me arrive. She took me into a small room and very angrily told me while shaking her skinny litter finger in my face, "If I find out you compromised this case in an manner, no matter how small or insignificant, I will see to it I personally prosecute your case and slam you in jail!" She then spun around on her heels and exited the room, slamming the door in very overly dramatic manner. She thought she was pushing some prosecutor weight around --I thought she was acting a spoiled drama queen -- you know, with all those weeks, not years, of practicing law under her belt. Whatever! The ink was not yet dry on her diploma. Grow up.

The trial was rather short and TD was convicted. When the court recessed for a break, for the first time I could tell TD was scared. Up until then he had been his normally jolly self --a very easy going guy with a great sense of humor. Now he was quiet and even a bit agitated. Having already been found guilty, the reality of jail time was ever present. TD, SGT R, the defense attorney and I all sat in a small room together waiting to be called back in for sentencing. When it was taking longer than we anticipated, we decided to get some lunch. TD was fortunate in that he was not under any pre-trial confinement so he was free to go. The defense attorney was a little concerned it was taking so long to be called back in. He said that didn't look good.

After lunch we were called back in. Just like on TV, the defendant was asked to stand to hear his imposition of punishment. I was sitting right in the front next to SGT R, who was very much hoping TD was not going to get any confinement. She was really into the case and I think because of her own husband's disposition.

The Judge said a few words and then read the sentence which consisted of a fine, Dishonorable Discharge, Reduction in rank . . . .and 6 months confinement. As soon as the Judge said, "six months confinement" SGT R screamed out loud and grabbed and hugged me. I just sat there wondering why she was being so dramatic about it. As soon as court was dismissed the Prosecutor FLEW out of that court room. Again, just like on TV the Judge was sitting at a very high bench, the attorneys each had a table in front of the judge. Just behind the attorneys was a small wooden railing with a gate in the center that swung open. Behind the railing were wooden benches for the spectators to sit on. The Prosecutor threw her papers into her brief case and shoved that gate open and stormed herself out of court. By this time, the rest of us had gathered into the small waiting room and here comes Miss snobby prosecutor herself -- she storms into the room and gets right into my face and yells, "DON'T YOU EVER BURST OUT LIKE THAT IN MY COURTROOM AGAIN!!!!! IF YOU DO I WILL SEE TO IT YOU GET SOME NONJUDICIAL PUNISHMENT."

I just stood there starring at her because I thought she was making a fool of herself. Still wet behind the ears as an attorney, she had some weight to push around and I guess I seemed like the path of least resistance. What I found most amusing is that she wasn't even remotely in my Chain of Command so really there wasn't much she could do to me. Besides, I wasn't even the one that yelled out in court, that was SGT R.

TD was placed in the custody of SGT R and then later that night she was to turn him over to the MP's (Military Police). So we casually left court, prisoner in tow. Since I didn't drive, it was a rare treat for me to be out in a car --not having to wait for a bus to get me to and fro. On the way back we stopped at a store and I remember I bought some mascara because like I said, it wasn't often I was able to get to a store other than the very poorly stocked Shoppette that was on Hindenburg. I found the entire thing to be a bit surreal --me shopping for make-up with a convicted felon. We were really taking out time because we knew once we got back to Hindenburg, TD had to be turned over to the police. We asked him if there was anything he wanted to do or eat before we got back. He didn't want anything. He was very quiet.

We got back to SJA after duty hours for which I was glad so no one would be in the office. SGT R called the MP's to come pick TD up. I didn't wait around because one they got there they'd have to put TD in handcuffs and Ididn't want to see that. So SGT R waited there with him. I went to say goodbye and I wasn't sure exactly what to say. Like what?? "Have fun in jail?" What do you say to a guy going off to federal prison? I stood in front of him and I guess he too knew there wasn't much to say. He put his hands on my face, pulled me towards him and kissed me on the forehead. It was very sweet and tender and not in any sort of romantic way. I hugged him goodbye and left. That was the last time I ever saw him.

It wasn't long before I got a letter from TD. He was staying in Mannheim for a while before being transferred to Ft. Leavenworth. We exchanged a few letters over the next several months. Since his sentence was only for 6 months. I think it was later decided he'd not be transferred to Ft. Leavenworth but would stay at Manheim for the duration of his sentence. After that, he was sent back home to California.

TD wrote me from home and told me his mother agreed to buy me a plane ticket to come to CA to visit him. I didn't want to use my leave time going out to CA. I didn't want his mother to pay for my trip. I din't want my friendship with TD to go any further and just the fact that he asked me to come out to CA seemed he was wanting more of a relationship. I didn't want to mess things up with SSG Newsome and even if the visit out to CA was completely platonic, how would that look? "Okay so Sergeant Newsome, I'm flying out to CA to visit this guy and meet his family but we are just friends and so --I'll see you when I get back!" Uh yea, I don't think that would have gone over well.

I wrote TD back and told him I didn't want to come to CA. I never heard from him again.

Tweedle Dee & Tweedle Dum

One day my NCOIC told me we were getting two new JAG soldiers in and he wanted me to show them around. I was a bit confused because I knew we didn't have any positions open. I asked what they'd be doing and he told me, "You just let me worry about that." Oookayyy --

So two new guys came in and really they weren't new --they just transferred from a battalion in our division. Usually when someone comes to HQ's its because they're in trouble. Yup --these two were in trouble. There wasn't any room in our barracks so the two were put into a room on the PSC side. I helped get them settled in. They were both SP4's; one was in the Army much longer than me and the other one about the same time as me. One guy was single and the other married and had two young daughters but his wife and kids had gone back to the states.

Well, I worked Division JAG so I saw all of the cases that were tried in our division and it wasn't long before Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum's names came across my desk. Both were charged with possession and intent to distribute. I tell you, there was something about me that was a magnet to people doing drugs!!!!! Since the two were awaiting trial they could not do any JAG work so essentially they did mostly nothing all day --except for some gopher work here and there. And somehow, like Tom and Wanda and The Medic -- the two became my friends.

The married soldier didn't stay around as long. His trial date came up pretty quickly. But before he left, yes he was convicted and served time, I got to know him as a person, not as a guy awaiting trial --if that makes any sense. He was young, had a young wife and seemingly a good life. Why the drugs? I don't' know. After being arrested, both were administered a urinalysis and came up clean so they weren't doing drugs --just selling. the guys wife went home and was going to file for divorce. There was a ton --I mean like the weight of the world sized regret in his voice and manner. He knew he screwed up big time.

The other guys was around for much longer because he got an extension. Once his buddy left, he and I spent a lot of time together. I was again in this double agent type mode. Everything I knew and worked on from the Prosecutors I could not tell him and yet, he trusted me explicitly and would tell me all the details of his case, from a defense perspective. I could not cross either line. Sometimes that was difficult because he'd be telling me something and I know information to the contrary and yet, I couldn't tell him --and vise versa while I was working with the prosecutors. In fact, the prosecutors weren't exactly happy I was so chummy with the "enemy" and had once warned me that everything in our office was confidential. Well duh! Not only did I know that, I spent my ENTIRE military career scared to death of going to jail, I wasn't about to cross the line in any way shape or form!!!! As long as I knew my place both as a JAG specialist and friend to Tweedle Dee, I didn't see a problem with the friendship. The prosecutor, a fisty female soldier, didn't see it my way.

Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum were names given to our two friends by our Warrant Officer. I mean, we never called them that to their face but that's how they were referred to around the office.

There was only one time I even told TD any information at all about his case --- coming up to his trial I had spent and entire 2 days setting up the jury, because juries were my responsibility. They were a pain too because very few people wanted jury duty!!!!! There were actually a few that liked it but for the most part, they all did their best to get out of serving, much like in the cinvilain sector too. The only thing I had ever said to TD was one day after work we went to dinner together and he asked how my day was and I said, "It was horrible! I was setting up a jury for an upcoming trial and I had one excuse after another . . ." Then I stopped because I realized the jury was for his trial!!! He smiled. We quickly changed the subject.

Though going to court was a rare thing for me, I did arrange to be at TD's trial. Before hand, he had to get a few personal things in order. He really knew no one at HQ's so he gave me power of attorney in the event he was convicted and got confinement, he needed someone to pack up his personal belongings and have them sent home. Remember SGT R? Well, she kind of took to TD also because of her own circumstance with her husband going to jail. She also arranged to go to TD's trial and in fact, I was going to ride with her.

The day before trial right towards the end of the day I got the news the defendant had changed his mind and instead of jury trial we were going Judge Only. ARE YOU KIDDING ME? Do you realize what a pain that was? I mean, getting people on the jury was difficult enough but then getting them off of the jury was an even bigger pain. We had phones --so I would call but keep in mind we didn't have call-waiting or voice mail so time after time, I'd get busy signals or so-in-so wasn't in so I'd have to call back. It was a huge pain!!!

That day after work I walked out of the office and TD was standing there and he walked up to me and said, "I'm sorry but I couldn't tell you." He was referring to the fact that he knew all that work I had done setting up the jury was for not --oh well, such is my job, I guess.

The night before trial TD and I had dinner together. We went through is personal things and he told me what he wanted packed, where to send it, etc. We spent the whole night together and yes, I do mean I spent the night in his room and NO, I don't mean anything was going on because it wasn't but somehow as the night went on, I just fell asleep in the empty bunk (Tweedle Dum's former bunk) and there I stayed the night. Well, we weren't allowed to have opposite sex overnight guests in the barracks so the next morning I had to sneak out -- I exited down the fire escape and did my "walk of shame" back to my barracks. I was still very much interested in Sergeant Newsome and still seeing him so with TD it was all strictly platonic friendship but even so, I didn't like walking into my barracks in the same clothes I had on the day before. No matter how innocent it was, I still got all those looks and stares like, "I know what YOU did last night."

The day of trial I was all set to go with SGT R. She told me if TD didn't get convicted or confinement, we were going to have a huge party at her house that night. The prosecutor got wind of my "overnight adventure" with TD, like any small town gossip would fly. She was TICKED OFF! Throughout this whole time, which I think spanned a few months, I was warned time and time again against my friendship with TD by the prosecutor and it really didn't set well with me. First of all, I was offended she trusted me so little. I did my job. I knew my job. I did my job quite well. Secondly, I thought it to be none of her business who my friends were. No one else in JAG had a problem with it, including my NCOIC and the Colonel so why she was so bent out of shape about it, I don't know. She insisted I not be allowed in court because it was a conflict of interest. Conflict? Is she crazy? That morning I was told by my NCOIC I'd not be allowed to go to court.

Oh yeah? We'll just see about that!

Tomorrow, Tomorrow . . .You're Only A Day Away

To my faithful blog followers (all 3 of you),

I spent the weekend in Chicago celebrating my Dad's 70th birthday! It was a great trip but I am exhausted. On the way home we stopped in Indy because the girls wanted to school shop at the Circle Center Mall. I luckily found a little "Rejunvenation Station" where I plopped myself down and played Tetris and Yahtzee on my phone!

I'm also sick again, or still and my voice is down to a whisper (which I think my family sort of is enjoying). And so today instead of trying push through it like I have been doing, I'm actually going to rest and take some meds and try to get better.

Two paragraphs later --all I really need to tell you is I'll not be posting today but hope to have something for tomorrow.

Lunchroom Romance

Okay so Newsome and I have been spending more time together but he still treats me like two different people; Melissa and The Private. I'm like a crazy school girl deep in puppy love. When he talks, I latch onto every single word with the sincerest of interest, devotion, thrill, amazement, wonder . . . .I find all of his Army stories daring and entertaining. In his voice, you can hear his love for the Army. It is quite apparent to me he's Army true and true, inside and out. If he got cut he'd not bleed red or even Army green but probably camouflage. He also talked a lot about his family which was so enduring and a bit rare. Most the people I've come across in the Army so far were quite opposite --did not want to talk about family or where they were from. I think in some cases, they were trying to escape from that life and talking about it probably drudged up some pain. I found it quite refreshing to find someone that wanted to talk about their family. He scored bit points with me on that one.

But here I am now and I got this crazy idea I needed to be more "Army", tough and strong and Airborne qualified. I went to my 1SG and told him I wanted to go to Airborne school. I'm sure he got quite a chuckle out of me (probably on more than one occasion too). He told me unless it was a requirement for my job, which it was not, I couldn't go but he could recommend me for school in conjunction with my PCS. In other words, I could go when I left Germany and enroute to my new stateside duty station.

Well that just wasn't acceptable to me. I wanted to go now! How ever could I impress Newsome if I'm not like you know --Little Miss Airborne. Ugh. I was so disappointed and it was at least a year before I'd be leaving Germany. I'd have to come up with a new plan. In the meantime, I'd track myself over to the HQ's building every chance I got. You could practically see the entire kaserne standing in one spot so if I ever saw Newsome heading over to the Mess Hall for a meal, I'd get over there as fast as I could to try to you know --happen to run into him like, "Oh hi Sergeant Newsome, I didn't know you were here!" If he ever saw me in the Mess Hall he'd almost always sit with me or if I came in afterwards, ask me to join his table.

This was lunchroom romance at it's best!

Today

No post today. I'm home sick with what feels a lot like food poisoning.

Will post tomorrow.

The Mess Hall

Call me crazy but I always did like Army food. I liked the everyday stuff --what I didn't like is when they'd try to get fancy and have Surf n' Turf night or something like that. On occasion I'd not like what was served but for the most part, I found the meals very satisfying.

What I didn't like was the Mess Hall itself at 1st AD. It was a small old building badly in need of some repairs and updates. The Mess Sergeant ws rarely around and in fact, so scarce to be found I wondered how he got away with it. From what the cooks told me, he made the weekly menus, showed up to post them and that was it --he never graced the place again that week! If the lower enlisted didn't do their jobs, I guess he would have been found out but as it was, the cooks did their jobs and so no one really knew or had reason to suspect the Mess Sergeant wasn't around. But like any young soldier would do, when the cat is away, the mouse will play. And play they did.

So, the place was clean --sort of. The food was cooked --mostly. They did get away with a lot of goofing off and I'd hear stories about things such as putting live flies into the frying vat. I'd then ask, "And you then use that oil to cook our food?" The cooks would say, "Yeah but it gets so hot it kills anything in there." Dead or not, I didn't want to eat fried fly guts! So I quickly learned to choose foods that were cooked right in front of me such as grilled items. As soon as I had taken just about all I could from our Mess Hall, we got word the entire thing was going to be gut out and redone. Thank you! That's the good news. The bad news was in the meantime, we'd have to be bused to a nearby kaserne for our meals. What a time waster!

And speaking of waste --I did waste a lot of money eating out during this time frame (if you consider the hot dog stand and NCO club dinner menu of 4 entrees eating out) because that bus business, three times a day, got real old real fast.

The cooks were very excited to get a new DINING FACILITY, which is what was drilled into us to call it --Army changing it's image and all. I liked Mess Hall, both for tradition sake and the fact that what we had really was a mess! As you know, I was "in" with the cooks so periodically, they'd take me inside the new DINING FACILITY to show me the progress. They were getting all new equipment and state of the art stuff. Uncle Sam spares no expense. I mean, Uncle Sam spares no expense to the extent of awarding the contract to the lowest bidder . . .but it was all new lowest bid stuff!

One day one of the cooks told me he had a surprise for me. So we went over to the Mess Hall and it was all gutted out --basically just four walls standing. In the corner was a pile of some of the old furniture that was to be thrown out. So the cook brought me over to the pile and after moving a few things around a bit, came upon a stack of framed pictures that hung in the old hall. He said, "I was told to get rid of this stuff and when I saw this . . ." he grabs a picture from the pile and pulls it out, ". . I thought about you. Do you want it?"

It was a sort of (but not really) nicely framed picture of Watertower Place and across the bottom in big letters it said "CHICAGO". I could tell he was really excited and expecting me to be excited too but I really did not want the picture but I was so touched he thought about me, I accepted it. But not before, of course, a bit of "I'm going to jail" paranoia!

Once again, I expected MP's to come busting through the door and arrest me on the spot for larceny. I kept asking the cook over and over if he really told to get rid of those things and if so, was keeping them an option. He kept assuring me it was fine but just to be safe, I asked him to carry it out and to my room. I'd much rather be an accessory to a crime than commit the crime myself-- it carried a much lighter sentence!

So we brought the picture to my barracks room and hung it up and actually, I was kind of glad to have a bit of home to look at. It wasn't my favorite Chicago scene but it was Chicago --nuff said! I still have that picture in my basement. Its not hanging up but its in our storage area. Everytime I clean out the basement I pull it out and stick it in the "get rid of" pile and then at the last minute, just before we load our junk up for Goodwill, I pull it out and put it back on the shelf. I don't know why but I can't seem to get rid of that thing.

We eventually got our new Mess Hall er, I mean --Dining Facility and with it came a new Mess Sergeant too. I don't think she liked me much and unfortunately, she'd play a significant role in my military career.

Me, Wanda and the Polizei

When I first learned I was going to Europe (after the weeks of lamenting) I decided there were two things I absolutely wanted to do; go to Paris and see the Eiffel Tower, drive on the German Autobahn (no speed limit). After deciding not to get a USAEUR driver's license, I figured the driving thing wasn't going to work out for me.

Now I'm sitting with Wanda in her white Mercedes and wondering what I should do. Should I let her drive? She was quite hysterical. What if she wanted to go back home to her drug dealer husband? And what if she told him I threatened to call the MP's? And what if she decided not to return to school? The problem is, if I didn't show up to school Monday morning --the Army has this little thing called AWOL (Absent Without Leave) and being in JAG and all, I knew what happened to AWOL soldiers so that was not the path I wanted to tread. Aaaaand . . . . Wanda has this sweet Mercedes and I could very well drive . . . but what if I get caught driving without a license? But it's not like I can't drive I mean, I do know how to drive!

Right or wrong, I decided to take the helm. I told Wanda I'd drive us back to school. And drive I did.

Aside from my usual panic that I was going to get caught, arrested, throw in German jail for 15 years and dishonorably discharged from the Army AND listening to Wanda go on and on and on about what a great guy her husband really is (you know, aside from the fact he refused to get a job, put his daughter in jeopardy, was dealing and doing drugs and oh, also cheated on Wanda a few times -- you know --other than that) I was enjoying the drive. There's just this feeling of freedom that you can floor that pedal without worry of breaking any laws (aside from the law of driving without a license). Going as fast as I could or dared, there were still cars in the left lane just flying past me. I would get up to about 110 then the scary cat in me would start picturing the crash scene when I lost control of the car and landed Wanda and I in some field --and that poor baby girl being left to her drug dealing daddy. So then I'd back down to about 95 --staying in the far right lane of course, the slow lane.

We finally reached our exit and I was just thrilled to have experienced the Autobahn!! Caught up in the excitement, I whipped right off the exit ramp towards our destination. We came to a fork in the road where you had to veer left or right --not really turn but sort of circle around in either direction. So still keeping up my Autobahn momentum, I whipped around to the right and no sooner I turned that corner what was sitting right there in the grassy knoll? Polizei! That's right --the German police!! And boy was I speeding. There's not a speed limit on the Autobahn but certainly on the off roads and here I was flying around that corner WITHOUT A DRIVER'S LICENSE!

I'm not going to lie to you, there was a brief moment I thought to myself I could probably outrun the guy. Driving on the Autobahn has that speed demon invincible effect on you. But it was just a passing thought and so ever so cautiously, I pulled over. It also crossed my mind that perhaps Wand's drug dealing husband had some stash someplace in the car. I was just for certain that on THIS night, I'd be in jail.

I decided I wasn't going to volunteer any information about me not having a license to drive and I'd either wait for him to ask me or figure it out on his own. Wanda was still quite a mess and perhaps that worked to our advantage because when the police came to the window he pointed to her and asked if she was okay. I told him she had some marital problems she was working out. Then he asked where we were going. I told him we were on our way to school and I showed him my military ID. He looked at it, looked at me, took another look at Wanda, looked in the back seat. He asked if I had been drinking or if Wanda had and I assured him we had not been and that we were stationed in Ansbach and just needed to get back to school. He handed me my ID card and told me to have a nice evening.

THAT'S IT? NO HANDCUFFS? NO JAIL TIME?

I cannot even describe to you how relieved I was. We were just minutes from our school so I continued to drive until we got there. I never did tell Wanda I did not have a license --she just assumed I did.

So yes, I did get to Paris and go up the Eiffel Tower and yes, I did drive on the Autobahn. Goals accomplished. No regrets.

Wanda, Part II

As I have said before, I was very fortunate to be in a place where I had great NCO's that were in charge of me. Part of their job was to look after the lower enlisted, to take us under their wings, train us, teach us, protect us, prepare us --- and because of their dedication to their mission, I was very fortunate to be afforded some great opportunities.

My NCO asked me if I wanted to go to a 2 week JAG (71D) refresher course. Promotions in the Army are somewhat complicated. You earn them, yes but through a variety of ways and one of those is any training, education or schooling that you take. So given any opportunity to go to an Army school was a good thing. I was glad to go. The course was located in Hoensfeld which was about 2 hours from Ansbach. The problem was I didn't drive so my NCO said he'd arrange transportation for me. Enter Wanda. Remember her? My NCO found out Wanda was going to the same course as I was and she would be driving so he arranged for me to go with her.

Wanda was a SP4 (E4) that had been in the Army for-ever! She certainly should have been at least an E5 by now but she was --well, Wanda. She was actually a very nice person; very kind hearted, funny, likable but as ditzy and scatterbrained as they come. I knew her but I didn't know her. In the course of my job, I'd talk to her on the phone several times a week and about once a week she'd come to the SJA office to drop off/pick up paperwork.

After our first week of class she wanted to go home for the weekend and asked if I wanted to ride with her. I was glad on two accounts. First, I didn't not want to stay at school for the weekend with nothing to do! Secondly, I was actually missed SSG Newsome. I wanted to go back and see him. So back to Ansbach we headed. Wanda dropped me off at the barracks then headed home. She lived in family housing with her husband and daughter. Her husband was active duty Army (they met in Korea) but he got out of the military while she stayed in so they could still get benefits. He didn't work. I didn't get that but it wasn't really my business.

When I got back to 1st AD and saw SSG Newsome I could tell he had missed me too. He was surprised to see me and said, "I thought you were going to be gone for 2 weeks!" I explained to him Wanda gave me a ride home. So Newsome and I were able to spend some time together. He took me to Burger King for lunch. Ha! Romance at its best? Well, there wasn't much to choose from, trust me.

We had to be back Sunday evening so Wanda came and picked me up late Sunday afternoon but soon discovered she left something at home (I told you she was ditzy -- always forgetting things) so she had to run by home first. When we got to the parking lot she invited me to go up with her. I had never been inside family housing before, which looked a lot like apartments, so I was curious and glad to go up with her. She lived on the 3rd floor, I believe --no elevators!

When we walked into her place it was neat and clean like crazy. She had beautiful furniture all of which had a Korean flare to it --assuming they had purchased it while stationed there. As far as deco style, it wasn't my taste but it was quite nice to see and so well put together. So, I just stood right at the front door not wanting to go in any further because sitting there at the coffee table was her husband and as soon as Wanda and I walked in I could tell he was none too happy she brought up company and also, he really wasn't expecting her back for another week.

There right before my eyes sat this ex-Army Sergeant with the the most insane amount of pot and cocaine I had ever seen. On the table there was a scale and some other equipment --he was measuring all of it out for resale. I think he was also doing a few lines of cocaine himself. Well no wonder he didn't want me around! The feeling was quite mutual. I wanted to bolt out of that place. My first thought was, "You've got to be kidding me! Why is it every corner I turn I run into drugs of some sort?" I was like a magnet to them.

I think I was extra paranoid because of my work in JAG. We handled a ton of drug cases all of which ended with lengthy prison sentences for the accused. As I'm standing at the front door afraid to move a muscle, all I could think was the MP's were going to bust through the door and arrest us all. I had to get out of there. Adding to the awkward situation (putting it lightly) was the fact that Wanda and her husband were screaming at each other. Then I remembered Wanda's little girl. Was she here too? Wanda didn't take long to get whatever it was she had forgotten so we were soon on our way but not before a few more choice words were exchanged between her and her husband. When we left, Wanda was in tears. Once we got out into the hallway I asked her where her daughter was. She said she was home with her husband. YOU MEAN THE COCAINE SNORTING DRUG DEALING HUSBAND WE JUST SAW? OH PLEASE TELL ME WANDA HAS ANOTHER HUSBAND! So I stopped dead in my tracks and said, "Are you kidding me? You're going to leave her here? With him? Like this?" Wanda went on to explain to me, through her sobs and crying, her husband was really a good man and took very good care of their daughter . . .blah, blah, blah -- I couldn't believe what I was hearing. She's going to defend him? We kept walking down the hallway and this just didn't settle well with me. I mean come on! Wanda is in the Army, works in JAG, lives in military housing, stationed overseas, has a daughter --you just can't deal drugs (not that being a civilian living in their own home could deal drugs). We made our way down to her car and I got in. She was still upset and crying and I was still in a semi state of shock - -not so much over what I saw but the fact that she was just going to leave her daughter there but I had decided I wasn't going to leave her daughter there.

"Wanda, you know how much trouble you and your husband are going to get into, right? The best thing you can do is put him out and make a life for you and your daughter. You just can't allow him to deal drugs out of your home --your military home and being he's a civilian, they'd turn him over to the German police and you'd just never ever see him again." She's crying even harder now and keeps saying over and over, "But I love him and I can't live without him." I tried to explain to her she's going to live without him one way or the other --putting him out or seeing him go to jail. Then I got even bolder and said, "Wanda, I can't leave here knowing that baby is up there. I just can't. I don't want to get you guys in trouble but I can't walk away from this. You either go get that baby now and leave her someplace safe or I'm calling the MP's."

I was so scared. I wasn't sure what she would say or do (and I really did need that ride back to school). What if she went and told her husband what I said? What would he do? Thankfully, she agreed to get her baby and take her to a friend's house then she said, "But I don't want to go back up there alone, will you go with me?" Crrrrr-ap! Here we go.

We went back up and no sooner than she walked in the door did he start yelling and screaming at her. Its funny because he never did say a word to me. Wanda got her daughter and some of her things and we were out the door. The guy didn't even care she was taking his daughter -- he was too anxious to get back to his drug dealer stuff.

We took the baby to a friend's house but this time I didn't go in with her. Quite frankly, I had seen enough. When Wanda got back to the car she was even more upset than before. She said she was to upset to drive and asked me if I would drive us back to school.

Houston, we've got a problem --I don't have a license to drive.

Sundays

Just a reminder that I don't post on Sundays.

Have a good day!

M

What Ever Happened To Rob

Rob and I were still friends and saw each other on occasion --as often as he came around, that is. We had not seen each other in a little while mostly due to his crazy work schedule but one particular day as he was getting off from work I happened to be walking by the Mess Hall. I stopped to talk to him. He commented we had not really been talking. I didn't see it as me ignoring him but I gathered from the conversation he thought that. I tried to explain to him he just had not been around (and I strongly objected to going up on the male floor) and I wasn't ignoring him but he said, "No, its something else. Something is different but I don't know what or why." As soon as I said that in the distance SSG Newsome was walking across the parking lot and as he always did, he caught my attention.

Rob turned around and looked at Sergeant Newsome then looked at me and suddenly he was very quiet and almost sad. He said, "Oh that's it!" I asked him what he was talking about and he said the look on my face said it all. Still genuinely confused, I asked him what he meant and he said, "Are you kidding me? You've never looked at me like that before. Just now --when you saw Sergeant Newsome --your eyes and your face lit up."

If eyes really are windows to the soul, Rob was seeing something in me even I did not yet realize existed. It would be years later I found out that soon after that day, Rob talked to SSG Newsome and told him something like, "Man, that girl is crazy about you. You'd be a fool to let her go."

I never did talk to Rob again. He avoided me like the plague and eventually, he moved out of headquarters company but I never have forgotten him because like many people in the Army, he played a big part in changing the course of my life and readujusting some attitudes I had within me.

Little Miss Airborne!

Well, well, well --what do we have here? Little Miss Army Airborne herself.

Its no secret female soldiers got a lot of attention from the male soldiers because they far outnumbered us! You also take out of the mix the married females and females that uh --- swing the other way and that left something like 100 single male soldiers to every 1 single female. Okay, maybe not that much but --you get my point. I had grown accustom to the attention--constant attention.

Enter in Little Miss Airborne. We got a new female soldier in the company. As usual the male soldiers flock all over the new females --that lasts for a little while then "business as usual". So when this new soldier came in --I didn't mind so much . . . until --business as usual wasn't coming along quick enough.

This soldier, whose name I cannot recall (probably because I didn't like her much), was sharp. She was what we call hardcore --she was Army! She had Airborne wings, she could run PT like a mad woman, she starched, pressed, stiff, standing tall, Army, soldier, tough, hooah, strong --but could carry all of it off with a flare of femininity. She's certainly not the first female soldier that was like this but the first female soldier I met that was like this and still be cute. PLUS she was short, no taller than me and yet could run in PT formation and out run most of the guys. Whenever I had a hard time keeping up in formation I'd tell the guys it was because I was short and they'd say, "Well so-in-so can do it."

Ugh! She got on my last nerve! All the buzz (and attention) was about her and the fact that she was AIRBORNE. Airborne! That's it!

I finally found my solution to two problems. One --Little Miss Airborne won't steal ALL of my thunder! Secondly, I can finally gain some respect and attention from SSG Newsome. This genius plan of mine was --well, genius!

I'm going to Airborne School! HOOAH!!!!!

In The Name Of Love

SSG Newsome and I were friends and we did see each other out and about quite often. Division HQ's was a lot like a small town --everyone knew everyone. We spent some time together and though we did like each other, I still thought he was a bit egocentric and he thought I was young and crazy. He often called me "little girl" or "doll baby" or "girl scout" and that used to infuriate me. I wanted to be a soldier --legit. I did not want to be masculine but I wanted to carry my own weight and I felt I had pretty much done that. Listen, getting through Basic Training was a HUGE accomplishment for me --HUGE! I did that all on my own, of my own accord. Granted, I wasn't an airborne ranger, drill sergeant --or any of those "Hooah" Army things but everything that I was, I had earned through painstaking blood, sweat and tears --literally!

There was a huge divide between Staff Sergeant Newsome the soldier and Jerry Newsome the man. When we were together, Jerry Newsome (though I still called him Sergeant Newsome) was kind, thoughtful, protective, funny, engaging, carefree --- he was fun to be with. Staff Sergeant Newsome was demanding, demeaning, egotistical, commanding -- not so fun to be with especially when he was around other NCO's. I was just a stupid private, what did I know? That bothered me a lot and yet, there was a part of me that liked both sides of him. Staff Sergeant Newsome intrigued me. I was impressed by him. I loved his Army stories and accomplishments. People listened to him and respected him. I liked to see him "in action" --in the midst of just Army stuff. But when he was that person we were not equals.

One night we went to a company function at a German Guesthouse and I remember being excited about going because I knew he was going to be there. Since we often ate meals together in the Mess Hall I just assumed we'd sit near or with each other at the dinner. Much to my disappointment, SSG Newsome sat with his Sergeant Army buddies --I was dismissed to sit with the lowly privates --the nobodies. I made up my mind then that I'd never be good enough in his eyes. I wasn't trying to impress him with my Armyness but I didn't like how there seemed to be two definitive sides to him. See, I was one person. There wasn't Private Dodge and Melissa Dodge --we were all the same person and dismissing Private Dodge was dismissing me. It was hurtful, to an extent, but also sent mixed messages. No sooner than I thought he hated me and didn't want to talk to me, he'd show up and do something incredibly thoughtful and kind. I was confused and a bit angry too.

I decided the only way to bridge that huge gap was for me to become more Army and less Melissa. Oh the stupid things we do/think/say in the name of love.

Aerial Views

These are a couple of pictures I took from my helicopter ride. The darkness on the bottom of the picture is actually the shadow of the helicopter. The other is a swastika shaped building that was built by the Nazis during the war. I don't remember much else about the building but I have a vague recollection I was told it was currently (back in the 80's, that is) used as a museum. I'm not really sure though. You can sort of tell from the angle of the picture I was actually hanging out of the helicopter to take that --I mean, hanging out as far as my harness would allow.

I Was Just Inches From The Opening!

On occasion (pre email and fax days) we'd have to get a legal document processed/signed right away to get it to trial or meet a court imposed deadline. On those occasions, our Colonel would either have the JAG driver take him to pick up the document or when really pressed for time, we'd arrange to go to the battalion/brigade via helicopter. This was one such occasion.

Being that I was already such an expert at flying (in) helicopters, when it was decided we'd have to fly to Erlangen the Major asked me to go along with them. This was much different not having a General in tow so I was glad to accompany them. Besides, we did have phones and I talked to many of the enlisted folks on the phone regularly so it was nice when we could actually see each other face-to-face.

This time I decided I'd take my camera along with me for some aerial shots. The view from the helicopter was quite amazing. As with my previous rides, I did not buckle myself into the seat --one of the guys working at the field always did that for me. You know, like being strapped into a baby car seat. Whenever they'd strap me in they'd pull it tight and I barely had room to move. I didn't mind though because being tossed about in a helicopter was not my idea of fun.

Our ride to Erlangen was uneventful, if not boring. For me, a helicopter of any kind was fun so it's not like I was disappointed. I was just becoming you know --an expert in the field and all. After our visit we headed back to Ansbach. When we got to the helipad to meet up with our pilots we noticed something different! As a special treat for us, our pilot took the doors off --we'd be flying with no doors on! Like every other time, one of the guys buckled me in --extra tight this time. They even let me sit on the end so I'd be right next to the door --uh, no door!

Without the doors, the ride was much louder and windier but what a thrill it was! I could literally hang my foot (to the extent I could reach it) out the door. No, I wasn't supposed to but for the sake of saying I did, I did. I could look over my right shoulder and see straight down. One thing I was quite thankful for was that full harness over me --holding me in ever so tightly!

To make our ride a bit more exciting, our pilot decided to show off a bit. He'd make sharp left or right turns so we we'd be dangling over --NOTHING AT ALL --just the ground waaay below! Then he'd kind of climb up, which felt much like the upward climb of a roller coaster --then let us dive down fast and furious. The Major kept pointing to his stomach (was too loud to talk) so I figured it wasn't going well for him. For me? I was having the time of my life until . . . .

Something went wrong. The helicopter started to slow down to a point you knew it wasn't supposed to be doing that. We all shot each other worried (panicked) glances. We couldn't communicate with the pilot so all we could do was sit and wait . . . . .

We were moving quite slowly but still controlled --not like we were crashing towards the ground. The pilot landed us in a German field. We didn't know what to think. The pilot got out and came and told us there was a problem so he had to make an emergency landing. He told us to all get out and he was going to radio in to see what he should do. So we all disembarked the bird and stood in the field . .waiting. The Major about "lost his cookies" from the flight. He was glad we landed. It wasn't long before owner of said field, the German farmer, came running to us. He didn't speak a word of English but we could gather he was less concerned about his field and most concerned about us. I was mostly concerned (you know, after I realized we weren't going to crash) with the HUGE mess we made of his field ---oh and --how we were going to get back. Would then send us another helicopter?

The pilot and co-pilot were busy on the radio. Before you knew it, we had a whole group of Germans that gathered around us. I'm quite sure it wasn't every day a helicopter landed in their field. None of them spoke much English but a few kept asking us if we were okay. We were fine.

It wasn't long before our pilot told us we could take off again. Apparently, with all those dips and dives and sharp turns, the pilot was getting some false readings on his monitors so the landing was more about procedure than a real emergency. He got clearance to take off again and head back.

Problem. I had never buckled myself into the seat before. We loaded up into the helicopter and try as I did, I could not get myself strapped in. The bird was loudly whirling by now so despite my screams (of terror) for help, everyone just smiled and went on their merry way. I tried my best --first he put this here, then snapped this, that goes this way or wait, does it go the other way? If I pull this --maybe this thing here will . . . . . . the helicopter started to slowly rise. I wasn't strapped in. We had no doors on. I was just inches from the opening.

The rest of the ride was nothing short of terrifying. I was semi strapped in but everything felt loose. The good thing was because of his silly antics that landed us in a field (literally), the pilot was done with his fun and games. It was just straight flying this time only --I was sitting at the opening WITH NO HARNESS OR SEAT BELT ON.

Gracious! It was horrifying. I tried my best to just --well, hold on. I held onto anything that was nailed down --wasn't much to hold onto but I tried. My worst fear was if I started to fall out, everyone else was so darn strapped in they'd not be able to reach over and grab me. I feared everything and every worse case scenarios played out in my mind. Making it ever so difficult to hold on was how badly I was trembling and my sweaty hands. The Major kept looking over at me and pointing downwards as if to say/ask why I wasn't looking out below us. On the ride there, I had been practically hanging out the door and kept my head looking downward --this time I was sitting up straight and looking straight ahead too. I think he thought I was shaken by the "emergency" landing but really I was TERRIFIED I was going to FALL OUT!

We finally made our way back to Katterbach for which I was certain had we not, I was only moments away of going into cardiac arrest from shear fear. I never did tell anyone I wasn't properly buckled in. It was the Army. You don't act like a stupid girl in the Army and only a stupid girl wouldn't know how to buckle a seat belt and you certainly don't act like nothing more than a mere shoeshine boy --

And there you have it --my last helicopter ride. After that, though I could have, I never did take up any offers for rides. I had my fill of it.

The Army certainly afforded me many opportunities and experiences I never ever dreamed I'd have; throwing a live hand grenade, firing a M-60 machine gun (yeah, it was fun) - -- and riding in a helicopter sans any doors and without seat belt or harness.

My Helicopter Pilot

One of the civilian secretaries that worked in our office was married to the helicopter pilot that flew me and the General around -- when I was hanging out with the 3 star! I didn't know he, the pilot, even noticed me because we didn't exchange words at all. Later, he mentioned the flight to his wife and told her to ask me if I wanted another helicopter ride. Did I? See, the whole time I was in the Army I tried to do as much Army stuff as I possibly could because I knew it would be my one and only chance. Once I got back to Chicago settling down with the love of my life, 2.5 children and a white picket fence surrounding our humble abode, I doubt anyone was going to randomly walk up to me and offer me a free helicopter ride. So when these things came up (like Tom letting me crawl in, out and all around a tank), I took up the offer.

I know I'm beginning to sound like a broken record when I say, we had no means of communication other than word of mouth but in today's world where cell phones, texting and instant messages are readily available, I don't think you can fully understand how remote we were, now cut off we were or how difficult communication was. So the helicopter ride had to be arranged from the pilot to me through his wife. We finally set a date and time I was to arrive at Katterbach. I had to be in uniform and had to wear my dog tags (again --a body identification thing). It amazes me now that I even had the courage to do such things --not so much ride the helicopter but just show up there alone --not knowing anyone or anything I was doing. It was winter and this was a night flight which I was certain would be rather boring not being able to see anything but hey, it was a helicopter ride nonetheless.

This ride proved to be far better than riding with the General. I was the only passenger in the back --just the pilot and co-pilot up front. I got to wear a helmet so I could hear the pilots talking, I could converse with them and other pilots too, that were in helicopters flying with us. They even gave me some night vision goggles.

What I remember most about the flight is despite the darkness and even with out the night vision goggles, I could see more than I expected. The snow was absolutely beautiful --We flew over the pilots house and his wife and kids, who had been expecting him, came running outside waving to us. They were standing on the back porch and he flew down close and snow blew all over them --it was funny. They asked if there was any place I wanted to see but hey --I was just a private hanging out in Germany --what did I know? They flew me over Hindenburg and its always interesting to see places familiar to you from a birds-eye-view. I liked how the closer we got to the ground, the snow would just furiously fly in a cloud about us. It looked like little snow tornadoes. I didn't like the night vision goggles as it made everything green so I'd first look through those to get an idea of what I was looking at then I'd take them off and look again.

It really was a fun ride because the pilots were showing off a little bit for me and I was the only one riding -- it was like having my own personal helicopter. Psh! Who needs a 3-star???? We rode around for about 45 minutes before heading back to Katterbach. The pilot drove me back to Hindenburg and promised me it wouldn't be my last ride - -- and it wasn't! The next time though, we ended up making an emergency landing in a German farmer's field. Scary. Stay tuned.

He Said -She Said, Part II

The truth of the story I'm certain lies somewhere in the middle of the two stories.

It's TRUE we did have a movie date. I was not mistaken about that.

It's FALSE I was stood up. Even in his refusal to admit we had a real date, fact of the matter is --SSG Newsome was stranded in a snow storm. At the time, I had no idea of knowing that.

It's TRUE I hardly talked on our first date but it's FALSE it was because I was crazy and staring off into space. The music was too loud for any conversation. SSG Newsome wouldn't let me get a word in edgewise --he talked A LOT (has barely stopped talking since). When there was a lull in the conversation, I wasn't staring into space but watching the people on the dance floor. What else was I suppose to do?

It's TRUE I went to the HQ's building a lot more than I used to and it's TRUE my intentions were the hopes of running into SSG Newsome but its FALSE I was stalking him or even around him that much. It's FALSE I lingered in his office because most of the time, there were other people in there too. Also, I was trying to play it cool and remember, I was terrified of rank -- even of SSG Newsome, to an extent.

It's TRUE SSG Newsome also availed himself quite often to the SJA office where I worked and it's TRUE they were often quite lame reasons and in fact, one time the JAG NCOIC said to him, SSG Newsome, "Why didn't you just send a Private over here for that?"

After I thought I had been stood up, I went to the HQ's building much less. I still ran into SSG Newsome a lot around the company and such. He also led PT some mornings so we were friendly with one another --but I started to notice that he was also a little friendly with some other females around the company!

He Said -- She Said

We left off with SSG Newsome having had our first *yawn* date and yet --almost every day I'd trek my way over to the headquarters building to run errands. I had to be careful about volunteering for such tooooo often as people would get suspicious but at the same time, every day I wanted to go over and make a stop and a certain someone's office. There would be days I'd do the run and he'd not be in the office --I'd be so mad to have wasted a trip over there. It wasn't just me. He was suddenly showing up places too --even a few times came to the JAG office under some pretense of having to check on something for the Commandant. Though he lived on the economy in an apartment, he would often be hanging around the barracks. People starting asking me, "What's going on with you and Sergeant Newsome?" I'd tell them nothing -- was it that obvious?

One particular day I was in SSG Newsome's office -- we talked and he asked me out again and despite having had the worst date of my life ever with him the first time, I agreed to go out with him. It was going to be a real casual thing. He was going to Bremerhaven, Germany during the day to take a friend to pick up his vehicle but later that night we'd meet up. Keeping in mind we had no phones, no cells, no email --virtually no form of communication other than talking to one another. There is a great divide in my version of this story and SSG Newsome's version of this story so I will tell it both ways. I'm sure you'll clearly see, my side is the most accurate of the actual events.

What She Says:
SSG Newsome asked me to come over and watch a movie at his apartment on a Friday evening. He had to drive a friend to Bremerhaven earlier that day and said he'd get back late afternoon sometime and he was going to stop by the barracks to get me when he got back from Bremerhaven. I was both excited and leery of seeing him again since our first date was such a disaster --but he always had such a sincerity in his eyes and that sparked my interest. That night I ate dinner at the mess hall and then got myself ready to go out. I waited and waited and waited and --- no SSG Newsome. I was certain by now he'd be back from Bremerhaven and I couldn't understand what the hold up was . . . wait --am I being stood up? How humiliating! What a jerk! Some friends from the barracks asked me to go over to the club and I really didn't like the club much but since I was dressed and ready to go out and a bit ticked off I had been stood up, I decided to go hang out with some of the guys from my company. As we walked over to the club I noticed SSG Newsome's vehicle was parked in the HQ's parking lot! How dare he! Was he in the club? HOW DARE HE! Of course, I couldn't let on to anyone I had been stood up so I played it cool --laid back. As soon as we got into the club I scanned the place for him --but no sight of him. Oh how I wanted him to be there so I could you know --IGNORE him and when he talked to me pretend I had no clue what he was talking about, "What's that? Us? Plans for tonight? Why --I totally forgot about that!". But he wasn't there. It was eating me up. So I decided I'd let him know I wasn't sitting around waiting for him and that I did not get stood up --but f0und something better to do. I wrote a note, our only form of communication back then, and left it on the window of his vehicle -- "SSG Newsome, I'm not going to be able to come over tonight to watch movies as I made other plans. Sorry about the late notice but I had no way of contacting you earlier as you were in Bremerhaven. See you around --Melissa" THERE! Boy did I tell him or what? "see you around" clearly lets him know hey, I'm not interested. And now that I know what a jerk he is and how utterly boring he is, I'm really not interested!

What He Says:
I had asked this little Private out for New Year's and ended the date early when it was clear to me she was a little crazy --she just sat there. I had to do most or all of the talking and I couldn't get a word out of her. Sometimes I'd see her just staring off into space. After that date I couldn't shake her. Every time I turned around she was there and would often just show up at my office. She was cute, no doubt and I liked talking to her but she seemed like a little girl to me and was boarder line stalking me. I was nice to her and would often talk to her and one time while she was lingering in my office I tried to break the awkward silence and said, "Hey, you should come over and watch a movie with me sometime." I was just trying to be nice. One afternoon I took off to Bremerhaven to take a friend of mine to pick up his vehicle. On the way back we hit a huge snow storm and it took us hours to get back. It was very late when we got back to Hindenburg. I was tired and just wanted to go home. When I got to my vehicle there was a note on the windshield from that little Private. Now I was certain she was stalking me -- who leaves notes on your windshield? She was a little crazy and I had decided I probably should talk to her a lot less and let her go easy. Her note said something like, "If its too late when you get back to come to the barracks, please stop by tomorrow. Melissa" I had no intentions of stopping by the next day. I balled the note up and went home.

Hob Nobbling with the General, thank you very much!

That evening I got back to my room only too excited to tell my roommate I'd be hanging with THE Judge Advocate General, a position appointed by the President himself. I spent the evening thinking of all the intelligent witty things I was going to tell the General --regale him of my Chicago stories and give him a taste of "a day in the life of a private" because after all, isn't that what any good Grandpa-ish General would want to know, how the troops are and such? I had stories, I had big words. I had knowledge. Psh! Who knew the 1st AD Crim Law pretrial better than me? I was going to be spit shined, starched, polished, tucked in, pinned up and sharp as a tack.

The next day I unfortunately had to do those lowly enlisted things like report for formation but afterwards, I headed straight to the SJA office ready to begin my day of hob nobbling -- you know, brushing elbows with the highest echelon of officers. I almost felt sorry for my lowliest of comrades in arms.

The General and Major and Colonel all had officer stuff to do --arrive late, drink coffee, tell stories, pat each other on the back -- officer stuff. When it came time for us to depart, a car came for us. I mean A CAR --like a General grade officer car, which I'm pretty sure is just step below a Presidential limo. In fact, it was a BMW I mean we were in Germany and all and that's the way me n' the General like to roll --BMW and all. We headed off to the heliport, which was about 15 minutes down the road at Katterbach.

Upon our arrival there was a furry of activity. Our helicopter awaited us, soldiers were saluting (the Major, Colonel and General) and I was along for the ride. Look at meeeeee! I had to sign a log for the helicopter ride you know, in case it crashed they'd know what soldiers' next of kin to contact. I was asked if I ever rode in a helicopter before and you know, come to think of it, no --no I have not. So the kind Sergeant went on to give me instructions at the very moment the helicopter pilot decided to fire the bird up --so I heard nothing of what the kind sergeant said --which was no concern to me considering I wasn't flying the bird, just riding in it. No sooner than we were told to load the helicopter did I realize --I was clueless. Like on TV's MASH, everyone was running towards the helicopter, head down. Must we run? Must we bend over? I sure wish I could hear those instructions . . . so I decided to run, sort of --and bend down, sort of. It wasn't until the last, almost too late second, I realized I also had to hang onto my head gear. It was WINDY! Crazy wind. Crazy loud.

The flight to our destination was --boring. It was too loud to converse (tell the General my stories that he was dying to hear) and I was too short and too buckled down to see out of the window. So much like a child harnessed into a car seat, I sat strapped in with nothing more to do. Another car awaited us at our arrival point (I think we went to Erlangen but I can't be sure) and off we were. When we got to our SJA office, everyone flocked to the General --the Colonel and Major introduced the General to ALL the staff and well, I was just a tag along. No one introduced me to anyone. No one noticed me. I was nothing more than a shoe-shine boy! I was regretting tagging along. I felt like one of those guys in the circus that just walks behind the elephants waiting to catch their poop. Just walk behind the officers don't speak.

Hob Nobbling certainly wasn't as fun as I thought it would be.

The ride home was more of the same. We flew on the bird, landed, got into the waiting car . . . On our way back to 1st AD as if I had just appeared on the scene, the General spoke to me, asking me where I was from. GREAT! That's a perfect segue into all the witty stories I had planned, "Chicago, Sir", was all I said. *insert awkward silence here* Think, Melissa! Think! Tell him something! Talk Army. Talk Chicago. Talk JAG --be smart, be witty --be humorous! Be something other than a shoeshine boy!

Okay so --that was the extent of my big conversation with THE Judge Advocate General. Yup, out of all the things I wanted to say, planned to say, and could have said -it all boiled down to, "Chicago, Sir."

After we got back, of course everyone wanted to know how my big day was with the General. I didn't go into any of my shameful details as I wanted them to envy me nonetheless than before (because they did envy me for getting to ride with the General). I mean hanging out with a THREE STAR General WAS a big deal, don't get me wrong. I was honored to do so. There are only a handful of them Army wide so it's not every Private that can say of their Army career, I rode in a helicopter with a General -that alone was something to remember but the experience taught me more about the Enlisted/Officer divide than anything else, especially when there's a General in the house because as soon as people got those stars in their eyes, I was instantly invisible.

BUT --turns out the pilot was the husband of one of the civilians that worked on our office and unlike those other starry-eyed people, he did notice me and did remember me and that would later work to my advantage.

Ah, another Army story to be written.

The General

We got word the Judge Advocate General would be visiting the 1st AD. As you can imagine, for a General's visit there is much to prepare for because we can't exactly let him see business as usual, now can we? This is THE General of the JAG corps --the master of that pulls all those strings that make the JAG puppets perform. And as any good little puppet would do, we were busy shining our boots, polishing our brass and getting our offices dressed right dressed. News of the General's visit especially had our officers in a tailspin --officers like to impressed higher ranking officers. But for me, having already been fully indoctrinated in conversing with Generals and Be My Little General firmly implanted in my military mind, I was confident I'd get through the visit unharmed (and unnoticed).

One of my military pet peeves is well how do you say it nicely? In the Army we simply call it --sucking up, brown nosing, kissing *** --you get the idea. RHIP -Rank Has Its Privileges is a concept even the lowliest of privates understands but to further that thought, those in favor of those in higher rank are afforded certain privileges as well. Its the same basic concept as the old adage, "You scratch my back, I'll scratch yours". So if you're nice to the higher-ups, they in turn will (or should or could) be nice to you. Seems like a fair deal however; one that never set well with me. It's so phony and just situated to me. Though I had a great respect (and fear) for those that out ranked me and I knew how and where to stand my military ground, I wasn't in the business of sucking up and found it pitiful to watch those in the process of doing so. I'd like to say it was from some great moral stance that I took or that I had such a strong work ethic and sense of meritorious duty and whereas I do believe that however I think my refusal to be one of those stemmed more from a deeply rooted rebellious streak in me. Having first tasted the bittersweet fruit of rebellion by firmly planting my chubby 2 year old feet in defiant refusal to pick up some toys (a story my father still tells to this day), I've always had this tendency to buck authority. And whereas bucking authority is greatly frowned upon in the military, my refusal to suck up was my subliminal form of rebellion.

The General was to spend most of his short visit with us at division headquarters but he'd also spend some time at a few of the battalions. Being they were quite spread out and the General's time was limited, it was decided our Colonel would fly with the General by helicopter to the places he was to visit within our division. And so preparations were made to that end. Of course, a helicopter does seat more than 2 people so there were some discussions as to who would get to fly with the Colonel and General --let the sucking up begin! The lieutenants were besides themselves trying to gain favor with the Colonel for a coveted seat on the helicopter. Like I said, officers like to hang out *cough* suck up --with higher ranking officers. The higher enlisted ranks, E7 and above, were less than impressed. They've been around the Army long enough to have had their share of Generals and helicopter rides. The other enlisted, one E4 in particular, was busy in the business of gaining favor with the Colonel. Me? Not impressed! Psh! I was already like this *crosses fingers* with the Commanding General himself --having painted his tank for him --I'm sure he was forever indebted to me. As far as Generals go, that was old news for me.

Okay so truth be told --first, I wasn't in the business of brown nosing my way through the Army. Second, I was terrified of rank and a General was the highest you could go. The higher the rank, the greater my fear. Thirdly, I was just a JAG Private, a paper pusher. In the realm of the Army and 1st AD, I was merely --nobody. And why would the Colonel want to waste a seat on the helicopter on nobody when there were so many somebodies to choose from?

The day arrived. Our beloved JAG General highness was in our very presence. He made a swift walk through the office. We stood at attention --he waved us to be seated and at ease and --normal. He didn't have as much a commanding presence as I had expected and to the contrary, seemed more like a Grandpa than a General. He spent most of the day with our Colonel and of course, our CG. Later that afternoon the Major called my NCOIC into his office. That wasn't exactly a normal thing and I just assumed in some manner, we disgraced our royal General and now our NCOIC was going to get chewed out for it --then we'd in turn get the same. When the NCOIC returned he went to his desk, stood there looking around for a minute then said, "Private Dodge, the Major wants to know if you want to ride along with them tomorrow . . " That's all I heard.

You! Have! To! Be! Kidding! Me! Me? Helicopter? General? Me? Crazy!