8 Weeks of Healing Time

Newsome was in the hospital for over a week.  The next weekend I jumped on a bus --what I mean is, a series of buses and got myself to the hospital to visit him.  I hated the bus, Newsome knew that and I all the more hated having to transfer buses.  These weren't civilian buses, mind you but a route that ran from one military installation to the next.  Often times once I got to one place, I'd have to wait an hour or more to get to the next place.  It literally took me all day long to get to the hospital.

Once I finally arrived, again our visiting time was short as it wasn't long before the last bus headed out.  If I missed that, I'd not be able to get back to Ansbach until the next day, which was Sunday and the routes were very limited.  So we had a nice but short visit.  He was very touched I went through all the trouble to see him.

The next several weeks we hardly saw each other.  He couldn't drive, I didn't drive -- a few times SSG D drove me over to Newsome's apartment.  I was sad I wasn't seeing Newsome much but the biggest disappointment was he was no longer able to lead PT.

So I worked and hung out with Connie and worked and well --that's about it.

Stood Up!

After finally coming to the conclusion Newsome wasn't coming over, I just went to bed. I wasn't sure how I felt other than disappointed. I was a little angry and a little concerned too. In one minute I'd be thinking, "How how dare he! Wait until I see him again!" Then the next minute I'd be thinking, "I hope he's okay. What if something really bad happened. . ."

All weekend I heard nothing and there was no answer at Newsome's apartment so I just gave up expecting to hear from him. I played over and over in my mind things I had recently done or said to try and figure out if I had made him angry or upset with me. Nothing really came to mind.

Monday morning I was a bit on edge as I fully expected to see him at some point during the day. I was hoping once I got to my office there would be a big bouquet of flowers on my desk with a note of explanation and apology. Well, that didn't exactly happen. I didn't want to chase him down after all, he stood me up, it wasn't the other way around. So if anyone had any "crawling back" to do, I thought it should be him. As the day progressed, I did find it quite odd I didn't see him anywhere at all. Since our kaserne was rather small we often ran into each other in the course of a day --eventually. This Monday that was not the case.

That night after work I went back to my apartment and cried myself into a tizzy. I pretty much surmised it was over between the two of us and he just wasn't man enough to tell me that in person so he had been avoiding me. I thought better of his character than that but I was glad to know this now instead of much later. I was deep into my pity party, there all alone in my apartment, when I heard a knock at the door.

Is he kidding me with this? Now? Three days later he wants to show up??? Oh I don't think so!!!!

I open the door at it's not Newsome! There before me stands SSG D. He said to me, "You busy?" At first I was floored. I was thinking Newsome had blown me off, told D he blew me off and now D was showing up to hit on me. I guess that sounds a little egotistical but honestly, it was kind of how things went around there -this person dating that person then 2 days after a break up they're dating someone new. And D was kind of that way --made his "rounds". I'm about ready to slam the door in his face when he says, "Newsome is in the hospital and he's been asking for you. He sent me to come get you. You busy? Can you go to Nuremberg now?"

I grabbed my things and off we went. During our 30 or so minute drive, I learned that Friday night while playing basketball Newsome broke his ankle --like one of those really messy really bad breaks in fact, he shattered it. His bone broke through the skin and there was blood everywhere. He was rushed to the hospital and they had to do reconstructive surgery and place a pin in his ankle. He was in surgery/recovery most of Friday and Saturday. The hospital had contacted his Emergency Contact/Next of Kin, which was his mother. That Sunday his Mom called the hospital and wanted to talk to him. But you know, they didn't have phones in the rooms because that's just not the Army way --much too frivolous to be Army standards. So Newsome had to make his way to the front desk to talk to his Mom. As soon as he got to the phone and said, "Hello", Newsome passed out. His poor Mother. I think about her all of the time --what she must have been thinking and going through. So anyway, the nurses get Newsome to come to and back to his bed. He spent most of Sunday in and out of it.

We get to the hospital but its late and visiting hours will soon be over. I was so glad to see him, so relieved I had not been stood up and so thankful he was okay. I could tell he was glad to see me too. I hugged him and it was nice but --I did notice he was a bit funky as he had not showered since --well, I guess Friday morning and having played basketball just before his injury --he was a bit on the ripe side! But of course, I didn't say anything to him about it. D was nice and left the room but like I said, visiting hours would soon be over so we didn't have much time to visit. Newsome thanked me over and over for coming to see him. He said he kept wanting to call me but he didn't have a phone and he kept asking for me but no one knew who/what he was talking about. It wasn't long before D came back in and he sat with us for a little while. A Private came in, some kind of medical aid or something, and had Newsome's chart and was checking some stats, etc. then he just blurts out, "Did you poop today?"

So there was a moment of very awkward silence while D, Newsome and I just sat there kind of looking at one another, the Private so oblivious to his lack of tact and discretion was just looking down at his clip board, poised with his pen ever ready to check off the appropriate box of yes or no. Finally Newsome said, "Uh, yeah -- I did." The Private marks the chart then leaves the room. Still kind of awkward D says, "Stupid Private!" And then we all laughed, finally breaking that uneasy silence.

Soon it was time for us to leave. Newsome was going to be in the hospital for quite a while and since I didn't drive, I'd probably not be seeing much of him while he was. We said our good byes and I left.

And I was very sad as I left because I had no idea when/how I'd see him again and if he was going to be okay and --I was going to be very lonely without him, I could tell. And I was very sad that I wasn't his Emergency Contact or next of kin -- and I wanted to be. I wanted to be the first person they'd call if anything happened to him. I wanted to be the one they consulted for his medical care.

But I was not.

Bonus Post

I'm calling this a bonus post because today's real post is below. This is just a little something extra and its not technically a "Melissa's Military Moments" but sort of related.

So the past several months I have been having a bit of a sleeping issue in that I wake up every morning between 3am and 3:30am -- every single day. I'm always wide awake and sometimes I can get back to sleep and other times I cannot. Last night was one of those other times.

I woke up at 3:06 and just laid in bed. As I often do when I have time to let my mind wander, I started "writing" Melissa's Military Moments in my head -- I was recalling stories and people I wanted to share and things I was uncertain if I'd share or not. So I laid in bed tossing and turning, hoping I'd go back to sleep soon and thinking a lot about my Army days and when Jerry and I first met. When 4:00am arrived, I decided I had enough of the tossing and turning and I'd just get up. As I did, Jerry said to me, "Where are you going?" I knew my tossing and turning and sighing had woken him up.

I went downstairs and did some laundry, hung out on the computer for a little bit, scanned through he TV channels (nothing on that time of day) and did what my grandmother would call, "piddling around the house". I was feeling very sentimental as I had spent nearly an hour reminiscing through mine and Jerry's early days. All those early dating feelings were coming back to me; being excited just to see him, waiting for him to call or come over, secretly hoping I'd run into him during the day. Then I thought about him being upstairs and how I woke him up with my tossing and turning and I thought to myself, "I know he can't sleep well without me next to him so I think I'll go back upstairs and go to bed."

So I'm walking up the stairs in total darkness -- still recalling those Germany days and feeling bad that I had woke Jerry up and hoping at least he'd be able to get back to sleep for the next hour or so. Ever so quietly I go to open the door to our room (I had closed it when I left hoping to not bother him with whatever I was going to do downstairs) and I'm expecting him to ask me where I was, what I had been doing, etc. So I open the door and I hear . . . . . .

SNORE -- ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ SNORE ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ SNORE ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Oh okay so it turns out my husband can sleep just fine without me next to him.

Duly noted.

Apartment Living & Dating Newsome

Once I got into an apartment things did change a little bit. I saw Newsome a lot more because for one, I had a phone and could actually communicate and coordinate things but also, it was just easier because there was some place to meet and some place to go. Its not like this SSG could come hang out in the barracks all of the time and his apartment was a bit further away.

I also loved that right across the street from my apartment was a small pond that had ducks. I'd often just stand at the edge of the pond and watch them --sometimes bringing bread out to feed them. It was a quiet street, a red brick street as many of the side streets in Germany were. All of it gave a flavor of European living.

Apartment living also meant I had to get up earlier to make formation. Living in the barracks, I could literally roll out of bed, walk down a flight of stairs and there I was. Living off post I'd have to leave myself plenty of time to walk and in every kind of weather too. Most of the time that wasn't much of a problem.

Connie and I still got along very well. I did most of the cooking, when we didn't eat in the Mess Hall. One particular time we were both getting in each other's nerves so I just left and sat at a park for a few hours. It wasn't like I was venting off steam --I just knew we needed to be away from each other for a little while. Other than that, we always got along quite well. Even though we were sharing a rather small space, at least we were down to one roommate as opposed to the 5 we had been sharing the barracks room with. As Christmas approached we were very excited to get our own tree. We went downtown Ansbach and got us a real live tree. I have no recollection of how we got the tree home but if we didn't just drag it through town, which would have been something the pair of us would be very likely to do, then I'm sure Newsome had a hand in helping us.

Getting away from the barracks drama was actually a very good thing. Instead of being a part of everything I could just concentrate on my work and the small circle of friends that I had. By now, I spent most of my free time still writing a lot of letters and longing for home but I'd also go to the gym quite often. I took an Aerobics class, watched Newsome play basketball, attempted racquet ball, ran, lifted weights and generally hung out. It was Ansbach, what else was there to do? On occasion Connie and I would take a bus to Katterbach and catch a movie or get some Tacos from a Mexican place that was on base there. Newsome and I had a lot of dinners out and on Saturdays he'd drive me to Nuremberg and we'd shop, eat, hang out . . . .

One particular Friday night Newsome and I had plans to go out to dinner after work. About 3pm he was heading to the gym to play basketball then after the game was going to head over to my apartment to pick me up. Connie was gone for the night-- I can't remember where she was but she might have been home on leave or just off for the weekend some place. I rushed home after work because I wanted to be ready on time and I was always excited to spend time with Newsome. I got home got ready and waited. And I waited, and I waited and I waited. I checked the phone 100 times to see if it was working. Dial tone. I kept holding out hope Newsome would show up but as night time fell upon me, I realized --

I had been stood up.

Time to Move!

Things in the barracks were getting pretty out of hand. We hardly ever had inspections anymore and GI parties were few and far in between. Laundry turn-in was becoming practically non-existent. We were issued bedding from the Army and every Tuesday was laundry turn-in day. You'd take your sheets, blankets, etc to the supply room and turn them in for a clean fresh set. When I first got to 1st AD when I'd go to turn in my laundry the line was always very long. I eventually turned my stuff in for good and bought my own civilian sheets and bedding to use. The Army only gave us flats sheets so we had to do those annoying hospital corners and the blankets were those green wool blankets that had US Army stamped on them in black. I opted to buy my own stuff. So as time went on I'd notice the laundry line was getting shorter and shorter until there wasn't anyone in line at all. So you think everyone was using their own military sets but no, that wasn't exactly the deal.

Everyone "decorated" their barracks area and instead of looking like an Army barracks it looked more like a college dorm room or worse yet, frat house. The guys were especially messy and out of control. I'm not sure what all they had going on up there but from what I heard, it was pretty bad.

1SG had just about enough of it and decided to get control of his barracks back. So one day in formation we all got scolded, military style. 1SG told us how many sheets sets were signed out --it was hundreds and yet, no one was turning in laundry. Basically, the guys were never ever cleaning or changing their sheets. We were allowed alcohol in the barracks and I guess there was one room that was literally taken over by empty beer cans. 1SG went on and on about the numerous infractions and then announced the barracks were going to be redone. First of all, each of the rooms was going to be repainted and uh, we were the ones that were going to be doing the painting. Secondly, no more "private" areas were allowed. All of the beds were to be bunked and all of the wall lockers were to be lined up against the walls. It was going to all be common area living --and much like the old Army movies where you'd see beds/bunks just lined up in a large room.

Well Connie decided she wasn't having any of that. She said she was going to get an apartment and asked me to room with her. The problem was she was already an E5 so she didn't need permission to go. I was still yet an E4 so I had to get my NCOIC's permission and my 1SG to allow me to live off post. I wasn't too worried they'd say no but with 1SG's new policies, I wasn't sure he was going to allow it.

Soon Connie was out apartment shopping and since neither one of us had a car, we had to be within walking distance of Hindenburg. Both of our NCOIC's had no problem with us moving out of the barracks but they said it was contingent on 1SG's approval. The only requirement was we had to have a phone. We submitted the paperwork for 1SG to sign off on. One day while I was walking into the barracks I happen to run into 1SG. He mentioned the paperwork and was sort-of giving me a hard time about moving out. Then he said because Connie and I were never in any trouble he didn't see a problem with us moving out but one of our NCOIC's would have to see our apartment and approve our living area. Yeah, I don't know why but you know, that's the Army --you don't exactly ask why. So Connie and I decided to ask her NCOIC to look at our apartment because hers was a female and mine was male.

It wasn't long before Connie found us a place to move into only it was a studio apartment --the "bedroom" and living room were all one room. It wasn't too small. There was a kitchen area and though it was not large enough to have a table in it, it was big enough to be a full service kitchen. It also had a window which I loved. I love kitchen windows, for some reason. The bathroom was actually quite large but only had a shower, no tub. The living area was adequate. We had two twin beds that were pushed together and served as a couch. There was a small eating area with a table and two chairs. We also had a huge "Wardrobe" that we shared. Our apartment was on the second or third floor (can't remember which) over a tavern. When you walked in from the outside there was a small entry way. To the right was a door leading to the tavern and directly in front of you a set of stairs going up to the apartments. It was kind of old fashion and European-ish. I loved it.

One day after work I came in and just being curious, I walked into the tavern and sat down to order a drink. As soon as I walked in the place got awfully quiet and when I sat down everyone in the place just stared at me. They were all older German men and it was like this was their "Cheers" place and I was an unwelcome stranger. I had visions of it too being my after work hang out place but I quickly realized they weren't interested in having new patrons --so I ordered a drink, downed it and left -- never to return again.

Connie had all the electronic stuff; TV, stereo, VHS, movies, etc. so I bought all of our kitchen ware. It didn't take much for a small place for just the two of us. I purchased a set of pots and pans, a few dishes, some dish towels and a few utensils. I was mostly excited about getting kitchen curtains for our window. Still have no clue why kitchen windows appeal to me so much.

Guess who helped move us in! Yup --Staff Sergeant Newsome! We loaded all of our things into his blazer and he moved us to our new apartment. SSG Dean even made his way over to see our new place --and commented how tiny it was. After moving us in Newsome left and later come back with a bag full of groceries and said he knew we didn't have any food in the place.

What I loved most about the apartment, other than it not being the barracks, is that our key was one of those old fashioned skeleton keys. It was big and bulky and always in the way but I didn't care --it was so cool looking.

Army Characters

Here's a few people that have no certain story line but they were memorable characters nonetheless.

The Fakin' Jamaican. There was an E7 that came to our division and claimed to be from Jamaica and even spoke with an accent. Everyone thought he was so cool and of course the females would all swoon over him and his accent. I wasn't interested at all. He was also a very decorated soldier --had a TON of badges, including a Drill Sergeant Badge. It wasn't long before things seemed a little off. People started to notice that the Sergeant seemed to come in and out of his accent when you talked to him for a long period of time. Also, the real Drill Sergeants would try to talk Drill Talk to him and he'd be very vague in his answers or avoid the subject all together. Drill Sergeants are their own special breed in the Army and they love to flock together. This particular Sergeant wasn't' like the others. Hmmm --I smell a rat! It wasn't long before everyone started calling this Sergeant the Fakin' Jamaican because it was obvious his accent was fake. It was also soon discovered he wasn't from Jamaica at all but some place in NY, though his mother was from Jamaica, he himself had been born and raised in NY and didn't have a real accent at all. He had a girlfriend and it wasn't until after she got pregnant that she found out he had a wife and kids --like several of them, 6 or so. But here's the biggest newsflash. Not only wasn't he a Drill Sergeant EVER -- but most of his awards and decorations were all fake. He faked his military records. Having previously worked in a unit where he dealt with military records, he took other soldiers awards and certificates and duplicated them only adding his own name. We're talking before scanners and such so he was a pretty good at what he did. What made me so angry though was that he only got a slap on his wrist. He got an Article 15 for falsifying documents but that was all --and they didn't even take any rank from him. In my experience in JAG I have seen Privates go to Federal Prison for much lesser offenses. To this day I can get all caught up in a fit of anger when I think about it --so unjust!!!!

SSG D. Staff Sergeant D was an ex-Drill Sergeant (a real one) and he was SSG Newsome's Army twin. The two of them had very similar military careers and as far as soldiering goes, they were very much alike and even though they didn't particularly look alike, people in our unit often confused the two of them. Everyone loved when Newsome or D ran PT because they could sing cadence and motivate you. When they lead PT it made you want to keep running and running. D liked to sing, "Who's got the yo-yo" and he'd run up and down the formation singing and I'm telling you, even for this slow lowly runner, I'd want to run on and on and on. D called everyone "Soldier" and he often made "on the spot corrections" much like Mess Sergeant did only --she was mean and D was not. Can't explain it because D wasn't nice either --he was just kind of tough yet fair and funny. D will play a part in a story soon.

SP4 F. She was a JAG clerk like me. She worked post-trial, I worked pre-trial. How does one describe SP4? She was very loud -- very loud and always just talking to be talking, not really saying anything. Its not like people disliked her yet, no one liked her either. She would just blurt out inappropriate things. She was always on the borderline of making weight standards and had a very large very round um -- backside and the "backside" was often the subject of many conversations among the male soldiers. She was a single mother with and had a young son, around age 5 or so. She had been in the Army for-ever! and was still only an E4. She wasn't the brightest or best of soldiers in fact, kind of lazy and more than crazy. Her uniforms were so faded they were almost white. Her boots were never shined. Her hair was always in braids with the ends all tattered and loose. She was kind of just a mess most of the time and everyone in the division knew her because no matter where she was and no matter where you were, you could hear her talking and laughing and saying stupid things. Sometimes she and I would have to go places together and it would often embarass me when we did. BUT --she had a heart of gold. She was one of the most genuine people I have ever met in my life. She struggled to raise her son alone and tried to do the best she could for him. I never asked anything of her but I knew if I ever needed anything she'd be more than happy to help. Years after I got out of the Army and was living in Georgia I got a call out of the blue. In her very loud yet raspy crazy voice I heard, "Hey Dodge!!! It's me!!!!" How she ever found me, since my last name was different, I'll never know but I was very touched that she went through the trouble to do so. She was then stationed in Atlanta and remarried and seemed to be happy. I was glad for her.

MAJ H (he later became LTC H and then even later I heard he was COL H). He was such a nice man. He was very handsome man, dressed ever so spiffy and was so smart and sharp all of the time. He was older, and I'm not sure how much but let's just say older, and single. Never having been married, he was quite a "catch" for any woman but he claimed he just had not found the right one. He had that "Officer and a Gentleman" quality about him. He always wore an MIA bracelet. One day I asked him if I could see it so he held his arm out and there engraved was a soldier's name, rank and when/where he was MIA, in this case it was Vietnam. I got chills when I read the name. MAJ H invited me, along with all of the other single soldiers, to his house for dinner for every single holiday. I never did take him up on it because I always had already made plans but it meant a lot to me just to be asked. He finally got married and he said it made Mrs. H, as in his Mother, a very happy woman! Later while stationed at Ft. Benning, GA I ran into his wife at the BX. They had a baby girl and her name was Amanda, just like my baby girl!

CPT M was another JAG officer. He had only been married a few months when he first got to Germany. He used to crack me up because he'd come into the office on Saturdays and remember, I often worked weekends too. I'd ask him what he was doing in on a Saturday and he'd say, "It was this or scrub toilets." and that used to crack me up. Every week it was a different chore he was trying to get out of at home, "It was this or do the windows." He was like a kid in a man's body.

SSG W's wife. She was another character but I think she deserves a post all her own!

The Board, II

So everything going rather smoothly. Yes, I made a few mistakes but I was still thinking they were minor enough. I was nervous, my voice was shaky. That bothered me a little bit because I wanted to be Army Strong --loud and thunderous --not squeaky mousey little girl. But I did the best I could, I think. Well no, I think I could have been stronger and more uh well - Army. But you see, this is what I always struggled with in the Army; that balancing act between being a a soldier and being a girl. When you wear men's clothing (they claim BDU's are unisex but let's face it, its men's clothing) and people call you "Shoeshine Boy" --its pretty hard to be cute. And then when you're feeling cute its pretty hard to be tough. But overall I was pleased how things were going and since I could tell we were wrapping things up, I was even happier it would soon be over.

And then . . . .

I knew Mess Sergeant just couldn't keep her mouth shut. I knew she couldn't and I knew she didn't like my Bears reply.

So I was done with the questioning part and all that was left was for me to stand up, face the board, salute and be on my way. I stood at Attention before the board, getting ready to salute and then Mess Sergeant opened her mouth.

"Specialist Dodge, who is your NCOIC? Is it SSG W?"

"Yes Sergeant, SSG W is my NCOIC."

"Well then, did SSG W inspect your uniform this morning?"

"Yes Sergeant, he did."

"Well then, you might want to tell SSG W to brush up on his 670-1 because you're uniform isn't quite right, your awards aren't straight. He should have corrected that for you!"

FIRST OF ALL (yes, caps do indicate I'm yelling) -- MY UNIFORM WAS PERFECT! Connie helped me get it straight, our training NCOIC and 1SG inspected us --so many people helped me and inspected me before the board AND I myself measured and labored over my uniform for days and days. There's no possible way it was crooked.

SECONDLY, why did she have to say that out loud because now what she's done is draw attention to the matter and now every board member is going to take points off instead of just her. I know by the manner in which she was talking, sassy and uppity like, and the look on her face, she knew exactly what she was doing by saying that out loud. And the other board members, being males, even if they didn't see the imperfection they'd probably assume her being female knew more about it and took her word for it. She knew that, she knew that, she knew that.

After our little chit chat about my uniform, I rendered my salute and exited the room. As soon as you get back into the hallway, all the other soldiers waiting to go in run up to you and ask you how it was, how you did, what questions they asked you, etc. So when I came out and everyone asked me how it went I said, "Mess Sergeant told the entire board my awards were crooked." Well then everyone wanted to see and not one person --NO ONE --was able to see what she was talking about.

So the best possible score is a 200 and I knew I wasn't going to get that but I was still hoping for something 190's. So far, the lowest score we heard was I think --160 or low 170-ish and no one wanted to get a score that low. After a few minutes the Runner, a soldier that was assigned to help the board, comes out with my score. It was 189. I was so disappointed, I really was. Connie kept telling me it was a really good score but you know, I wanted a 190 at the min. To make matters worse, I'm sure I would have reached that had Mess Sergeant not FALSELY accused me of having crooked awards on my uniform.

But I passed the board. I PASSED! You know what that means? I could get promoted any day now -- as long as my overall points hit the minimum for JAG. Getting promoted to E5 is BIG! Its' your first big promotion --and you're no longer lower enlisted but an Non-commissioned Officer (NCO) and with that, rank does have its privileges.

So now its just a waiting game. Yes, its exciting but its also not uncommon for soldiers to be on the E5 list for years and years. I wasn't sure when I'd be promoted or if I'd get promoted before my time was up.

The Board

The day of the board entailed a lot of preparations for me. First of all, Connie put my hair up in this french braid-ish type thing that was AWESOME. As far as good hair days go, this was by far the best -- you know, in that military regulation kind of way. If you're a woman you'll understand that a particular hair style can make or break your day. Connie definitely set me up for success this day. I was so please how feminine yet military regulatory my hair was. It wasn't in that librarian bun either. So, that started my day off.

I already had my uniform prepared; shined, polished, pressed, pinned, straightened, measured, starched and sharp! Once I was dressed and ready to go, I had a few stops to make. I went downstairs to our training NCO and he gave me some last minute tips and words of encouragement. All along, he had been helping me prepare for the board because you know, that was is job! He checked my uniform and sent me on my way. I also saw my 1SG and he gave me some encouraging words as well. My JAG NCOIC's came over to the training room to see me too because well, that too was part of their job. Now, it wasn't just me you see. There were several soldiers from our company appearing before the board that day and even another JAG soldier. It wasn't All About Melissa Day --but I was one of the starring roles.

I stood before my NCO's for inspection --they checked out my uniform, etc. We went over the latest current events and then --they sent us on our way. We had to go over to another building where the board was. When we got there, there were many other soldiers there too from other companies as well. We were, after all, the Division Headquarters. So we all stood in the hall waiting for our names to be called. One by one, we were called in and had to stand before the board. Connie went with me for moral support because you know, she might be stingy with her lipstick but as far as friends go, she was one of the best. She was already an E5 so her input was very valuable.

Was I nervous? You bet I was. I had never done anything like this before. There was so much to remember, so much to think about. As it was explained to me, the board starts grading you the very second you walk into the room. You have to march or well, use military steps and then walk right up to the board, salute and say, "Specialist Dodge reporting." And then the board instructs you from there. I was also told that during the questioning you do get to sit down but the board NCO will say something like, "Take 3 steps back and take your seat." So still in your military stance, you have to take as many steps as they tell you backwards, without looking down, and then in a kind of "trust fall" manner, just sit down. Don't look for the seat, don't feel for it --just sit.

As I stated in an earlier post, as soon as I walked in and saw Mess Sergeant I knew I was in trouble. The other Sergeants were males and I didn't know any of them and I figured that probably worked to my advantage. The NCO of the board, sitting at the center of the table, was nice as he could be. He made me feel at ease and he clearly understood how nervous the soldiers were. They all had to do this at one time too. After reporting, I was told to stand at Attention and then do an About Face (turn around) so they could inspect my uniform from the back as well. You know, is my hair off the collar, jacket fitting right, etc. Then I was told to execute another About Face and told to take 3 steps backwards to take my seat. Now keep in mind, you're not taking just regular "street steps". You're still in a military stance. So, I took 3 steps back and then I was getting ready to sit down and I just couldn't! I had to look. I had to see --I knew I wasn't supposed to and I knew that chair was there. The trick our training NCO had told us was to feel for the chair with the back of your leg and tried as I could, I just couldn't feel that chair and before my body would allow me to sit, I had to look . . so I did. No sooner than my head bowed down, every board member started to frantically write on their papers. I knew they were taking points off and it kind of threw me off track from that point on.

I get seated and you're supposed to sit straight up, feet together and arms and hands on the armrest of the chair. Just sit straight and still and look forward. At one point, without thought, I found myself starting to cross my legs, just out of habit, but before I did I caught myself and went back to my military stance but not before the board members were again frantically writing on their papers. More points lost.

Let the questions begin. Now to answer a question, you must repeat the question and address the person that was asking it. You know, sort of like Jeopardy in having to answer a question with a question - - you can't just blurt out the answer. So for instance if the question was, "What year was the US Army established?" Your answer would be, "Sergeant, the United States Army was established on June 14, 1775." If you did not know an answer, you would respond with, "Sergeant, I do not know the answer to that question." Or you could say, "Sergeant, I do not know what year the US Army was established." Okay, so you get it now.

So I'm sitting down now, more nervous than I had been only because I know I messed up on sitting down. I'm trying to talk myself down and mentally prepare for my first question and then as soon as it was asked, I was floored. I was confused and wondered if this was for real and I didn't know how to respond.

"Specialist Dodge", the Board NCO asked, "Do you have a circulation disorder?"

Excuse me? Come again? Do I --I --do I have a --a what? Is this some tricky Army thing I forgot to study?

"Excuse me, Sergeant? Do I have a --I'm sorry, can you repeat the question, please?"

The Sergeant was grinning so I wasn't sure if he was just messing with me or what. He kind of chuckles, "Your hands. Look at your hands. They're bright white!"

So I look down at my hands, only after hesitating just a second or two wondering if I was "allowed" to do so. Like, were they trying to trick me and see if I fall for the bait? I'd look down and they'd all start to furiously scribble on there papers again! I wasn't sure what the question was about but I did look down and when I did see my hands its true, my knuckles were void of any color at all. I looked back up and said, "Oh, my grip was just a bit tight. Its just nerves." The Board NCO gave me a warm smile, told me to take a deep breath and to relax, "You'll do just fine", he said. That did help me to relax and I think I was a bit more focused after that.

Much to my gleeful surprise, I was able to answer every question they asked me. Well, except towards the end when one of the Sergeants said, "I see you're from Chicago. How them Bears doing?" Is that a trick question? Does this fall under "Current Events" or is he just making small talk? Am I supposed to know this stuff? THE BEARS? FOOTBALL? Is he for real? I didn't prepare for that. I don't know stuff about football!!!!! I was trying to think of something to say and I was lost. Come on! Ask me about an Army tank, please! So all that came to mind was the 1986 Super Bowl win so I said, "Sergeant, I'm really not sure how the Bears are doing this year but Chicagoans are still on a Super Bowl high from 1986 so I think we'll be okay either way." To that, the entire board erupted into laughter well, entire board with the exception of Mess Sergeant, of course. She just gave me stern disapproving look as if I was getting a little too cheeky with the board.

To be continued . . . .

Where Have You Been?

I have been here lately with a few new Newsome News posts. I have also been slowing down Melissa's Military Moments to allow a few (you know who you are) people some catching up time.

Please also keep in mind, my military moments were over 20 years ago --sometimes it takes me a little while to knock the dust and cobwebs out of my memory before I can get a story into print.

I've also decided not to post on Saturdays or Sundays --gives us all a rest.

Never fear, the story will be told to the bitter end. Thanks for stopping by!

Melissa

Then I remembered . . Basic Training!

So I was all set to go over to SSG Newsome's one evening to get my uniform ready for my board appearance but then I remembered . . . Basic Training!

You see, in BT our Drill Sergeants, males --all of them, had to teach us how to properly wear our military uniform and so when we got our Class A's, that green dress uniform, they had to help us put our ribbons and awards on it. And I also remembered AIT (training after BT) when we had uniform inspections . . . . . .

Your ribbons and awards are right there on your chest and for me, it was always very very uncomfortable just standing there at attention while some Drill stares at your chest. I hated it. Worse yet, when making slight adjustments to the placement of your awards the very easiest thing to do is while you're wearing the jacket slip your hand inside, remove the backing from the pin, move it until it looks right, then slip your hand back inside the jacket and put the backing back on. I mean, that really was the best way to make minor adjustments once you got everything on. And during BT while our DS would help us with our uniforms, this was a very uncomfortable situation for all involved. In fact, some DS flat out refused to do it and would call over another female soldier to help.

So I started to panic because I thought it really not so proper for me to go over to SSGNewsome's apartment alone and having make these uniform adjustments. Then I thought that if he wasn't going to help me with my uniform it would be dumb to just take my brass and boots over. Why I thought that was dumb I have no idea but you remember those early dating stages when you'd over analyze every single thing you did or said? So yeah, I thought it was dumb but as much as I hated to shine brass and polish boots, I should have jumped at his offer.

But then I had that slight problem of no means of communication other than in person. It's not like I could send a quick text or call SSG Newsome and let him know I changed my mind and I didn't need his help for my uniform after all --so the only thing for me to do was show up at the appointed place and time --which was, later than evening meet him as his car.

So that evening I showed up at his car at the appointed time and he was waiting for me. Then I got all embarrassed about why I didn't have my uniform with me. I didn't want to say, "Because I thought I'd feel uncomfortable with you staring at my chest." So I told him I just decided to do my uniform myself and it was no problem. He asked if I wanted to come over anyway, which I did and we spent the rest of the evening watching *snore* boring military documentaries --bootleg copies. I mean, perhaps he thought it would help prepare me for the board --or perhaps he was really that clueless but for whatever reason, it was a very boring evening. Very.

Now, over 20 years later, SSG Newsome tells this story much differently, much like he tells this story. His side is that I never intended to bring my uniform over and in fact, I used that all as a ploy to get him to invite me over and that all the while I was just trying to spend time with him. He said when I showed up without my uniform he really wasn't surprised at all because, "I knew it wasn't even about your uniform to begin with." That's how he likes to tell the story but really, I just wanted to pass the E5 board. . .

And maybe spend a little time with Newsome too, just maybe.

Before the Board

Now that you know what happened when I walked into the board, this is how I got to the board.

Enlisting the assistance of Connie and other soldiers that had already been before the board, I drilled them for every detail and piece of information I could get from them. Military appearance was of the utmost importance so guys always got a fresh (buzz) haircut and the women had to ensure their hair was tightly and neatly pinned up. I knew just the person to help me with that, Connie. She assured me the day of my appearance she'd do my hair for me. Next in military appearance was going over my uniform, making sure it fit (back then I ate so little and worked out so much that I often lost a lot of weight and my uniform would be too big), getting it dry cleaned so it would be freshly pressed and making sure all of the rank, emblems, etc were up to date. I also had to shine my brass and put my awards on but that wasn't usually done until the night before. My shoes had to be every shiny but I had the patent leather kind so to those all I had to do was make sure they were clean and give them some fresh edge dressing to the souls.

Also to prepare I had to study the uh, study guide for the E5 board and make sure I was very up-to-date on current events. That might not seem that big of a deal to you but may I remind you yet again --no Internet, no cell phones, no TV or radio (other than the Air Force channel) and really not even a news paper. We did have the Army Times available to us and some local paper --I think a Division publication or something. So getting outside information was a bit of a challenge. The study guide covered a multitude of subject areas such as history of the Army and leadership. I even had to know the history/progression of the Army uniform. And when I say history of the Army I do mean dating all the way back to the Revolutionary War and General George, as in Washington, himself.

And to think in 6th grade I argued with my father how useless History class was and I was doing so poorly in it because it was a dumb class I'll never need or use again.

Every night I read the study guide cover to cover. Connie would quiz me on things and I'd write down whatever information I was struggling to remember. All in all, as time approached for my board appearance, I was pretty confident I knew the materials very well. What I wasn't ready for was my uniform. That needed some work.

You see, I think I've mentioned this here before, the men have it easy (as usual cuz you know, we got that whole giving birth thing too) with their uniforms because they have two breast pockets on their jacket which makes for very easy and very neat and very straight placement of their awards. They just line them up on the pocket. Done. Females don't have the pockets, first of all but also each woman's body has their own contours and so you have general guidelines where your awards are to be placed but basically, it really depends on the woman's own ahem shape (or lack there of, dare I say?). So you take those general guidelines and go from there. Then you have to try the jacket on and make sure everything is straight and make adjustments as needed. Its was a big pain.

Hmmm who do I know that knows the Army inside and out? Who knows AR 670-1 (the Army regulation that covers military dress) backwards and forwards? Think, Melissa! Who? Oh right! Sergeant Newsome knows that stuff. Huh. Interesting. Maybe he can help.

So I go to SSG Newsome and ask him if he would help me get my uniform ready for the board. He was glad to help, he told me. So we made plans one evening after work I'd bring my uniform over to his apartment and he'd get it all spit shined and polished for me. He was going to polish my brass for me too and oh heck, he told me I might as well bring my boots over too and he'd throw a spit shine on those as well. That had nothing to do with the board --he was just throwing that one in to be extra nice. You gotta love military romance, huh?

Mess Sergeant

This was from an older post "The Mess Hall"

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.

The new Mess Sergeant was a little bit like Little Miss Airborne. She was tough and she was Army strong. In fact, I think she had once been a drill sergeant. She was an E7 that came to 1st Armored Division with something to prove. I think in general female soldiers, especially ones that are "career soldiers", had something to prove or at least back in my day we did. We had to show those tough Army guys we weren't just grown up Girl Scouts. Well, new Mess Sergeant certainly was of that mind set. She was tough.

But she got the job done.

Mess Sergeant was in the Mess Hall 24/7, so it seemed --and she was whipping the facilities and the cooks into shape. No more of this slacking off and no more of this frying flies in the deep fryer. With that, the food did get better and the cooks were ever so sharp. I mean, the creases in their "Cook Whites" (the white uniforms cooks wore) were sharp as a razor blade. Everything was run with such precision and expertise. As much as I liked Army food before, I liked it even more now. With our new facility and Sergeant we got a new salad bar with fresh fruits and vegetables. The "made to order" line wasn't as long as it used to be. We even got a new soft serve ice cream machine in. Yeah, things were pretty good.

But Mess Sergeant ---she was everywhere so it seemed and every time I turned a corner there she was making an on-the-spot correction to me. One time, she said something about my uniform and I didn't think she was right so I went back to the office and looked it up. I wanted to challenge her so badly but my NCOIC told me to "leave that alone". Later I was glad I did. Another time it was raining and I didn't have my rain gear with me and as I was leaving for lunch one of the civilians offered me her umbrella. It wasn't colorful or bright or any pattern so I took it and thought it would "Okay enough" to pass Army Uniform standards. Well no sooner than I headed down the sidewalk did I run into Mess Sergeant and she told me the umbrella wasn't authorized AND SHE MADE ME PUT IT DOWN AND WALK IN THE RAIN. I was so mad at her that day.

It wasn't just me. All the buzz in 1st AD was if you crossed paths with Mess Sergeant you better be sure you were "squared away" from head to toe. She was getting on my last nerve to the point when I was going somewhere I'd look around to see if she was coming and if so, I'd go the other way. You know, this was all well and good but we weren't in basic training anymore. It's not like we all had flagrant uniform offenses. I wished she would just leave us alone!

So here's the deal. I was going to the E5 board and I had prepared for weeks and weeks. I studied the materials and I read ALL the headline news for weeks because Current Events was one of the catagories they could ask questions from. I polished and prepared myself for weeks and weeks and weeks and even enlisted the help of one Staff Sergeant Newsome to gear me up. I was ready.

When it was my turn to go before the board I was so polished I shined like a new penny! I walked into the room, or rather "marched" into the room and who should I see seated on the board?

Mess Sergeant --and she was the only female on the board. I just knew she was going to eat me up alive!

Getting Promoted

The promotion from E4 to E5 is pretty big. You're finally an NCO and those stripes look awfully nice on your collar. Its a big step and an exciting one too. When I was recommended to appear before the E5 promotion board I was very excited --and very nervous.

Promotions in the Army are tricky and even now, 20 years later, I'm sketchy on the exact details and its also possible in 20 years somethings have changed. But such as it were (and as clear as my memory serves me), getting promoted to E2 & E3 were basically automatic. I mean, your command could recommend you not be promoted but they certainly had to show just cause. Basically, you get the E2 and E3 after serving so much time. I think E2 is after 6 months of service. E4 is sort of automatic too but you have to be recommended for promotion and there also has to be a slot within your unit for an E4 but its pretty easy to get E4. After that E5 and above gets tricky. You earn a promotion by merit, yes but also by the availability of an E5 slot within your MOS, Military Occupational Speciality. In my case, JAG. So DA, Department of the Army, and your MOS command will look at ALL the soldiers in JAG and determine the need for each rank. So to simplify this, let's say DA decides the need for E5's in JAG is 500 and let's say they currently have 480. Well that means in that year they only want to promote 20 more Army wide. That's not a lot. So in order to keep from having 200 E4's promoted they set up a point system.

Am I confusing you yet?

So the point system is based on a lot of things; awards, accomplishments, schooling and training, civilian education, etc. So in the case stated above, since DA is only looking for 20 E5's they'll set the JAG points to get promoted very high. So let's say on a scale of 800 they'll set the points for promotion to 750. That's pretty high so only the very top soldiers will get that promotion. Now let's say JAG needs 500 E5's and they only currently have 100. So then they will set the points to get promoted very low --like 450. Every year each MOS within the Army establishes a number for promotion to E5 and above, each E grade having their own specified points.

Granted, I've just given you a very basic explanation and left out a lot of details but that's basically how promotions were. So yes, there is merit in getting promoted because first of all, you have to get recommended. Secondly, you have to earn those points. Not every soldier has the same amount of points. What seems unfair though is each MOS has their own points. Whereas JAG may set their E5 promotions to 750 points, an Infantry soldier, 11B, might only need 400 points to get promoted. So you might have a JAG E4 with 6 years time in service not getting promoted and then you might have an 11B with 4 years time in service getting promoted.

Now to get promoted to E5 and above, you must first appear before a board. For E5 and E6 that board consists of NCO's at a local level, battalion, etc. Appearing before the board you are given points for different things like your military presence, military appearance (uniform) and also asked a variety of questions in which you must know the answers to. The board then gives you points based on all those things. I think for an E5 board the maximum points were 200 and of course, those 200 points go towards meeting the points for promotion.

Okay, have I totally confused you because I'm starting to confuse my own self.

All that was to say this -- I was recommended to appear before the E5 board and so I began preparing myself for such.

Whew, I need a nap now. This post took a lot outta me.