Break

Back to PLDC on Monday.

I'm headed out of town this weekend to work for Samantha's Cookies.  I get paid in cookies!  I might share some with Andy and Sheryl when I get back (might).

Have a good weekend!

Arrive Salzburg

What the Red Cross Call "emergency" was -- my sister needed to reach me before she left Czech so we could plan a meeting place/time.  She urgently tried to reach me but as explained earlier, because of the mixed up as to where I was, the Red Cross was not able to find me for a few days.


Upon my arrival in Salzburg I had no idea what to do next.  I tried calling the contact number again but this time I was not able to get through.  I waited in the train station.  I waited and then I waited.  I got hungry so I ate a sausage from a street vendor.  I walked up and down the sidewalk adjacent to the train station.  Every time a train arrived, I'd mingle around hoping to find my sister or brother-in-law waiting there for me.

But they were not.

Hours passed.  Getting back on that train heading to Germany was not an option for me.  I was so desperately homesick and missing my family so if they were any place on the same continent as me, I was determined to find them, despite a lack of any resources to do so.  I decided I'd "live" in the train station until they showed up or it was time to go back to my unit, which ever came first.

I wasn't without worry and fear and at one point even tried to call my Dad, thinking he might have contact information for my sister but again, I could not get the call to go through.  I think there was a different dial process now that I was in a different country but I was not able to get a call through nor any English assistance from an operator and each attempt was still costing me money.

After hours and hours in the train station, I was still trying to "meet" every train arrival but I was becoming hopeless.  As another train arrived I again expected not to find anyone so I leaned up against a big column and stood there watching people until I saw . . . .

my brother-in-law.

There he was, in Salzburg.  There I was, in Salzburg.  And we finally found each other.

He had actually met every train that came in as I did but somehow, we never met up with each other.  Earlier, John grabbed a train schedule, went back to their hotel room and each time a train was to arrive, he'd go to the station to see if I was on it.  All Val could do was stay back at the hotel room with Courtney hoping and praying that I'd be found.  Each time John would come back without me, her worry increased and hope faded a bit more.

But now here we all were  --right there together.

We spent 4 glorious days together.  We toured around Austria.  We went to a Bed and Breakfast in the mountains and it was the most beautiful place on this earth I have ever seen.  I felt like breaking out into a chorus, "The hills are alive, with the sound of music . . . "  And speaking of the Sound of Music, we got to see many of the places in which the film was shot.

We toured Hitler’s Eagles nest, which was one of personal retreats.  It’s at the top of a mountain and there's only one road up, which a bus takes you to the top (or if you were so inclined to do so, you could hike up the side).  As we were driving up it felt like our wheels were literally on the edge of the road.  It was a tricky maneuver.  Once to the top, there are no gates or fences so you can walk right up to the edge and see all the way down.

While on their trip, Val got ill in Czech and had to go to the doctor and it was then Val and John got the news they'd be adding another child to their family!  I was the first in our family to know, which made me feel so special.  So Courtney AND Brittany were in Austria with us!  :)

When it was time for me to leave, Val and John took me back to the train station.  There are no words to describe how difficult it was for me to leave.  Having been so homesick, seeing my family was just what I needed but in a way, it only made things worse as now there was yet another good-bye to say.  I just remember standing in that train station hugging my sister and sobbing and not wanting to let go.  John had to practically pry us apart.

After getting back to my unit I suffered the greatest depression you can imagine.  Looking back now, I'd say I needed medical help but being young and dumb and without any resources or help, I had no clue then what I was going through and I certainly didn't have any Paxil commercials with sad balloons helping to understand there was a medical treatment.  My heart physically hurt.  I cried all of the time.  I wasn't able to function.  Even Connie commented, "Man, Mes (what she called me, like niece with an M), every since you got back you've been a wreck.  You really need to snap out of this."

I desperately tried but I kept playing our emotional good-bye over and over in my head.  I missed home so much.

Red Cross Call, Part II

The Red Cross lady had to repeat the message to me a few times because I just wasn't able to concentrate on what she was saying.  I was too nervous and scared.

At this point the details are sketchy but I'll try to piece this together as best I can.

My sister Val and her husband John were missionaries working with an organization, International Teams.  They were not in a foreign land but worked on staff out of the IT Headquarters in Illinois.  Part of the mission of IT was taking the Bible into countries behind the Iron Curtain.  The summer after I arrived in Germany Val, John and their 2 year old daughter, Courtney, were going on a mission trip to what was then, Czechoslovakia.  They'd be bringing in Bibles and other Christian literature and if caught could possibly be imprisoned.  In Czech they'd have a contact, a Christian family.  After spending some time in Czech, they'd be going to Austria for a visit.

What made this tricky is well --so many things!  My sister couldn't call me directly.  The Red Cross had trouble finding me and thus the message to me got delayed by at least 3 days.  We were both in foreign countries --different ones at that and them being in a communist country and having to hide the reason they were there, made things all the more difficult.  My sister never wrote to me before hand because the nature of their trip, she couldn't.

The message I got was to call my sister Val and a number was given and that she would be in Austria soon.  Now you know, I didn't have a phone and calling long distance was crazy expensive, even more so when using a pay phone.  Since the Red Cross message had been delayed by a few days, by the time I got it my sister had actually already left Czech and they were on their way to Austria, hoping to meet up with me.  I called the number, which was the host family in Czech; the phone call was difficult, at best.  You may have a memory (old enough) to recall long distance calls back then were very  poor connections.   It was difficult to hear, often times there would be a lot of static or that  "talking in a tunnel" type sound.  Add to the mix, the person I called spoke broken English in a very hard to understand accent.  She was helpful as she could be, but all she really could tell me is that my sister had left and I was to meet her in Salzburg.

I immediately put in for a 4-day pass and got ready to go to Salzburg, Austria.  I was going in blind.  I had never ventured out of Germany on my own so I was more than a bit afraid of that too.  Back then, soldiers did not travel abroad with a passport --we just needed our leave papers and military ID with a specific date range of travel.  I was always more than a little freaked out I'd get stranded someplace then be beyond my dates of travel and not able to get back into Germany, thus being AWOL then ending up in jail.  Because you know, despite the fact I didn't break the laws, I was always afraid of going to jail (perhaps becase I had seen so many "almost innocent" soldiers go to jail).  After getting the paperwork/permission I needed, I walked down to the Ansbach train station, purchased a round trip ticket for Salzburg and hopped on the train.

The whole way there I was scared and nervous --and I had very little cash on me too.  My monthly take-home was about $600, most of which was spent on eating out as Mess Hall food could get a bit mundane.  I used the rest to travel and buy European Chocolate.  I also only got paid once a month so $600 didn't last long, even back then.

Had I not been so nervous, I could have enjoyed the train ride to Salzburg much more.  The countryside scenery was simply breathtaking --nothing like you'd see here in the US.   We made several stops along the way but of course me, being the absolute nervous wreck that I always was, I didn’t dare get off the train.  I did have to switch trains in Munich though.  Having not ventured out much in Germany and certainly never alone, I had to put my conversational German into action and I was amazed how much I could say and understand.  In German, I had to ask where my train departed from, what time and general directional/travel questions.  At one point I asked about my train and the Conductor, who was dressed like he just stepped off the Polar Express Train, was able to understand my German but I was not able to understand what he was saying.  I kept asking him to, "Sprechen langsamer, bitte." -- Speak slower, please -- and he would slow down but I was still not able to understand him.  I think he had a different dialect than what I was used to.  I guess it would be like a foreigner learning English then coming to the US and asking someone with a thick southern accent a question -- you just can't hear the words like you expect them to sound.  He finally gave up speaking and motioned for me to follow him.  Munich is a big city, the train station is quite large and busy --a lot of bustling going on.  Walking at a pace I could barely keep up with and luggage in tow, I followed behind the Conductor and he walked me all the way over to my train.  He said something to the Conductor of that train, they motioned for me to get aboard and that was that.  Now I was really on my way to Salzburg.  But I still had no idea where my sister was or how I would find her.

The Dreaded Red Cross Call

We take a break from our regularly scheduled PLDC saga for this flashback to an earlier time in Germany.

Who knows what technology changes are in place for notifying soldiers of family emergencies but such as it were back in my day a soldier would get a Red Cross notification.

As I have explained (probably too much) how it wasn't as easy as hitting "send" on an email or picking up a phone to call  --getting immediate notifications of an emergency were tricky, not to mention we had that whole 8 hour time difference to deal with as well.

No solider ever wanted to get a Red Cross call.  EVER.  As it was, the family members were to contact their local  Red Cross chapter and let them know what the nature of the emergency was and whom to contact.  The Red Cross usually did some verification of the information such as calling the hospital or even --funeral home --then they'd wield their wand of magic and through some process unknown to me (remember, all paper-pushing days --no computers!) find the soldier's unit, call the unit (usually the 1SG) then begin the process to get that soldier home ASAP!  Unfortunately, I was present when some of my fellow soldiers received one of those calls and then one day after returning from lunch I walk back into to my JAG office and its very quiet.

My NCO looks at me and says, "Private Dodge, you received a Red Cross call. Your sister Valerie is trying to reach you and its urgent.  Here's a number for you to call."

I took the piece of paper from him, walked into the bathroom.  I peed, vomited then cried.  I tried to calm myself down, I prayed, I cried . . I washed my face, took a deep breath and walked out.  I went to a smaller office where I'd have some privacy for the call and in fact, I went back to my old Admin Law desk.  With trembling fingers, I dialed the phone, "Hello?  Hi um --my name is (shaky voice) Private Melissa Dodge and I got a message to call . . . "

"Oh yes, Private Dodge, we got a message for you a couple of days ago but we had some difficulty finding you and . . ."

Before I tell you the rest of the story I'll tell you this --remember the very beginning when I first got to Germany and they were going to send me to Erlangen and apparently that went into my file or records the Red Cross uses --or someplace and so it was a bit confusing as to where I actually was.  In fact, a few times I received mail that was misdirected to Erlangen before it actually got to me.  This delayed the Red Cross from getting notification to me right away --they simply could not find me.

At this point in the conversation tears were just rolling down my face.  I tried to be strong but you know, they actually said my sister's name.  There's no doubt she had contacted them and being the oldest in the family, no doubt she had been appointed the one to do so.

And I couldn't stop the trembling both in my voice and my knees.

PLDC V

I get to formation but not without a lot of strange looks --everyone that passed by me would look down around my ankles and give me a very strange glance.

And that made me feel all the more uncomfortable.

So all the while trying to maintain some level of composure and keep walking with some measure of confidence, I'd try to shimmy my pantyhose back up by running my  hand along the side of my skirt --I think in doing so I just made the situation worse.

But thankfully, our class was huge and my formation was smack dab in the middle and so I could at the very least bury myself among soldiers . . . .

And speaking of soldiers, where are all the females?  Outside of the few roommates I had, all I saw was a sea of male soldiers --green Class A jackets are far as the eyes could see --which really wasn't that far considering my stature and fact that I was trying to slump down and not be seen but you know --as far as my eyes could see --there's weren't very many females.

And that made me feel all the more uncomfortable.  These aren't just JAG soldiers --these are the front line go-to-war guys.  These are the defenders of our freedom, the ones that get sent right into action, the soldier of all soldiers.

And me?  I'm just a JAG clerk in a pair of chocolate brown pantyhose that are gathered around my ankles --making me look like I have brown elephant legs.  I'm too short to see what ever else is going on.  I hear snickers behind me.  I'm stupid.  I'm short.  I'm unprepared.  I'm as NON-Army as it gets and here I stand.

The school Commandant begins to welcome us and he starts in . . . . . as every single Army training class seems to begin . . . .the statistics of doom and gloom.  He tell us to look to our left and to our right and then tells us, "One of those people you just looked at won't graduate this class.  It's not because we can't graduate them, its that they cannot graduate themselves."  Did you catch that?  The school doesn't fail to ensure your success rate, the soldier fails to ensure his (or her) own success rate.  And then he goes on to tell us the reasons some of us won't graduate.  Inevitably  --

One or more female soldiers will have a positive pregnancy test (before any training all females have to have a pregnancy test and all soldiers are tested for drugs).

Some will come up hot on a urinalysis.

Unfortunately, some soldiers will get that dreaded Red Cross call and have to go home.

Some soldiers will fail the course.

Some will get sent back to their unit because of discipline problems.

Some will simply give up.

The rest of them --they will graduate.

And all the whille all I could really concentrate on was, "Is there a back way out of this place so I don't have to walk down that hall with my dark brown pantyhose sliding down my legs?"

PLDC IV

Reporting to a new unit or training a Class A uniform is always required.  For males, that's easy as there is only one Class A uniform but for females you have the pant or skirt option and the low-quarters or heels option.  Low-quarters = ugly orthapedic looking black flat shoes.  Sometimes the specific uniform is stated and sometimes its just your personal choice or a matter of convenience/comfort.  Are you going to be standing in a formation at Parade Rest for 2 hours?  Go with the low-quarter foot-gear option.  Are you going to a formal military dinner?  Perhaps the nice shiny heels and skirt would be best.

Its tough being a girl.

So I was all packed up and ready to go to PLDC, dreading it yes but also glad to finally get this thing done and over with.  My shoes and boots were polished, uniforms pressed and ready to go, duffle bag packed, brass shined . . . Class A jacket?  Check!  Class A skirt?  Check!  Class A pants?  Check!  Oh and required "Nude Pantyhose" for skirt uniform?  Uh, NO PANTY HOSE?

Okay so Allison, I realize in today's fashion sense pantyhose are a thing of the past  --right up there with wearing slips under our Baptist high collar, shoulder padded, puffy sleeved dresses but this was a required part of the Army uniform and I didn't have any.  And I didn't have a store to go to . . . .  but I did have a roommate -- and apparently,  I had compeltely forgotten this lesson about Connie's Lipstick so I asked Connie if I could borrow a pair of her pantyhose.  Pointing out the obvious to me, I argued with her it would be better to have a pair the wrong color than none at all.  So she gave me a pair.

And did I mention Connie was several inches taller than me?

I get to PLDC, which for us was really just down the street about 15 mintues.  For the entire Division some units had to travel 2 hours or more.  My JAG NCO took me and my packed duffle bag to PLDC.  For check-in we wore our BDU's but after receiving our room assignments we had a formation to report to -Class A uniform required, skirts and low-quarters for females.  Darn it!  I was so hoping it wasn't specifically stated so I could wear my pants but you know, no biggie --I had my pantyhose.  And really, is anyone going to notice the color?

After getting settled into my room and introducing myself to my roommates, with whom I would not become lifelong friends, I got ready to report to formation.

Hmm well --these pantyhose do look much darker on that I thought they would but maybe no one will notice.

Actually, they look hideously dark.   This is a great way to start off --out of uniform and -- 

My roommate blurts out, "Are you going to formation like that?"


At this point its time to go and I had no other choice than to go as is.  I walk outside my room and started heading towards the gym and . . .

Slip and slide!  My too dark pantyhose are also too long for my short little legs --and down they go until the excess nylon is puddled around my ankles.

Can you picture it with me?  Skirt.  Ugly orthepedic type shoes, too dark pantyhose, nice folds of pantyhose gathering around my ankles.  And I'm marching onward to formation --pretending to be oblivious to it all.

But inside I was dying and wanted to run away and hide and PLDC Sergeant was right, I wasn't cut out for any of this.

PLDC III

Aside from my self-induced PLDC fears and those induced by PLDC Sergeant, I had other worries too.  I knew I'd not be able to see Newsome for a long time and Connie too, for that matter.  Connie had been a part of my daily life since the day I got to 1st AD.  Severing almost all ties with barracks living, she and Newsome had become my only two friends now.  If I wasn't with one, I was with the other.  Also looming on the horizon was the fact that Connie was soon to leave Germany for good and then not too long afterwards, I'd be heading back to the states as well.  As much as I hated being overseas and wanted to go home, I was dreading having to leave.  And I was dreading Connie leaving too.

So with all that Army fear and unsettling feeling about PLDC, attached to that was things were soon coming to and end and the unknown of what was to come next was eating away at me.

But before I actually got to PLDC I'd have my second and last Christmas in Germany.  And this is when Connie and I got a live tree and put it in our apartment.  Though only a slight step above being a Charlie Brown tree, we decorated it with pride and piled gifts for each other underneath it.  I made our Christmas dinner, a feat in itself with the very limited kitchen tools we had --

And one of my Christmas gifts from Connie was a VHS of Lady and the Tramp, one of my favorite Disney movies and childhood memories . . . . and we watched it that day . . .

and we called home after a million tries because all of the overseas lines were busy . . . . .

and we felt sad and depressed after having talked to our families because we were not there and we were in some tiny little above-bar apartment in Germany watching Lady and the Tramp . . . .

and eating a substandard Christmas dinner . . . .

and in just a few weeks we'd be saying good-bye . . .

after nearly two years of friendship and hardship . . . .

and after 4 weeks of enduring PLDC . . .  .

if in fact I'd make it the entire 4 weeks . . . .

PLDC II

So why didn't I just tell my NCO's that I was too afraid to go to PLDC?

Ha, that's a very good (funny) question!  First of all, you don't tell ANYONE in the Army especially anyone that out ranks you, what you don't want to do and you never ever ever tell anyone in the Army you're terrified of something.  That would be Army suicide --just kill your career right then and there.

Not to mention, it was an honor to be able to go and it was a good thing, in that Army sort of way . . . .

Army training hadn't killed me or even nearly killed me --aside from that little walking down range during live fire thing during Basic Training but you know, that was really my fault.

So as I saw it, my only option was going to PLDC.  So I was scheduled to go.

In the meantime, word got out in our very small-town living that Dodge was going to PLDC.  And that word quickly made it to the ears of a one female Staff Sergeant, a former PLDC NCO whom had been relived of duty because of that little court-martial incident thing I previously mentioned.

And she wasn't a nice former PLDC NCO either.  She was like Mess Sergeant, only meaner.  Mess Sergeant was tough and rigid but in her defense, fair and unbiased.  True she seemed to always be picking on the lower ranking but she was also almost always right about what she said and she didn't play favorites.  She didn't care who you were or what you did or whom you worked for.  Now PLDC Sergeant --she was just a nasty person.  Mean.  Uncaring.  Liked to purposely ebmarrass people so you can imagine her and I didn't get along much but I had to see her every day because after her being relieved from duty from PLDC, she was sent to our HQ's company and so the job they gave her --she had to work the check-in table in the Mess Hall.  If you were on a "meal plan", you had to sign in each day with your meal card number.  She kind of sat there making sure everyone signed in. If you were not on a "meal plan", you had to pay to eat so she took the money. A former PLDC training NCO --demoted to a mere cashier.  Maybe that's why she was so mean all of the time.

So when word got to her I'd be going to PLDC, she took every opportunity, like 3 meals a day, 7 days a week -- to terrorize me, make fun of me and as if I wasn't terrified enough just on my own --instill even more fear in me by telling me they were going to eat me alive, I'd not graduate, I didn't have what it takes to graduate . . . . .

AND as if that wasn't enough reason to not like her so much,  she had this special bond with Newsome because they were both ex-Drill Sergeants (they like to stick together) so she'd talk Drill Talk with Newsome while I stood there like --a hungry Private wanting to hurry up and get into line for some SOS.

And the hardest part for me was that she didn't know what I knew about her.  I mean- -she had no clue I knew all the details of her case and so she sat up there trying to act so Army  "Squared Away" and making fun  of me and every day I had to bite my tongue because I just wanted to blurt out, "OH YEAH?  WELL YOU WERE ONLY THIS CLOSE *hold thumb and finger together* FROM BEING PUT OUT OF THE ARMY AND/OR COURT MARTIALED!"  But yeah, I couldn't say that so - - - - -

Every night I went to bed counting the days until I had to go to PLDC . . .  despertately hoping none of the remaining PLDC NCO's were anything like that one.

PLDC

Primary Leadership Development Course.  I was recommended to go.  You have to be an E4 (p) or above to go.  That is, E4, Promotable.  And that means having been to and passed the E5 board.  And guess what --I did and so -- I was on my way to PLDC.

And I didn't wanna go.  Nope, I really didn't.

Because . . .

I wasn't so much career oriented because I just wanted to do my 3 1/2 years and go home and put the whole Army business behind me. 

I was terrified of Army stuff like -- real Army stuff.   You know, that whole business of "Be All That You Can Be" --that was for strong Army soldiers.  I was just a JAG clerk and my greatest accomplishment in the Army was behind a desk. 

I knew I was going to have to run -- A LOT and I wasn't a fast/good runner.

I'd not see Newsome probably the entire time I was gone.  We'd have to stay at school unless we earned weekend passes.

I had Drill Sergeant flashbacks from my previous training days. 

Like the time I was supposed to be standing at the position of Attention and a bee started flying around my head so I swated him away --- and I got yelled at (for a long time and very very loudly) and had to drop and "Give me 20!", which meant, 20 push-ups only I wasn't able to even crank out 3 (at the time).

Or like the time I lost my headgear (Army way of saying "hat") while we were inside a building for training and it being like -a mortal Army sin to be outdoors in uniform without any headgear on, I had no choice so I got into formation like you know, no big deal I'm without head covering and when Drill Sergeant just couldn't believe his eyes and called me out in front of the entire company and yelled at me and humiliated me AND THEN - -all the way back to our barracks while the company was marching in a dressed-right-dressed formation, I had to run around entire said formation with both of my hands on my head while yelling, "I WILL NOT LOOSE MY HEADGEAR, DRILL SERGEANT!" over and over. 

And that flashback of the time I took a bore brush (to this day still have no clue what a bore brush is or what its intended purpose is) and stuffed it down the barrel of my M-16 riffle to you know, clean it like a good soldier should, and got said bore brush stuck into the barrel of my M-16 riffle and had to go into the dreaded Drill Sergeant tent (we were on a field training exercise) and ask the Drill to get the bore brush OUT of my M-16 riffle.  Here's the thing, going into the Drill tent was like being sent to the principal's office --only a lot worse.  My Drill looked at my riffle, handed over to the next Drill, then the next --they just kept passing my M-16 A1 riffle around all the while -- laughing uncontrollably, slapping their knees, tears rolling down their face while they manage to mutter, "That's the dam---- thing I ever saw!  In all my years of drilling . . . . I never saw anyone manage . . . ."  All the while me, stupid Private E-nothing standing there wishing I could disappear . . .   And unknown to me at the time, a whole group of other Private E-nothings had gathered around the tent to try and hear what all that ruckus was about.  And then when the laughter finally subsided, all that was left was me and the wrath of the Drill Sergeant.

Okay so yes --it was those flashbacks that made me just a bit leery to go to another Army training environment.

And the fact that I worked in JAG and so I was privy to some information about some former PLDC NCO's that we had court-martialed (one ended up in prison) and so yeah, I really really wasn't happy about having to go. 

In fact, I was downright terrified!