Just . . . platoon

Assuming the position of Platoon Sergeant was without fanfare. I woke up one morning, on my appointed date, and thought, “Today I am the Platoon Sergeant. Huh, imagine that!”

The night before I met with the former Platoon Sergeant and he filled me in on a few things and gave me a few pointers. The next night, all the Platoon Sergeants (I think there were 4 of us) met with the Instructors and we were given our specific duties, responsibilities, etc. One thing we had to do was assign the barracks duties. Each Platoon was given an area of responsibility then the Platoon Sergeant had to delegate those to the squad leaders, who then delegated them to the soldiers. The chain of command is a beautiful thing.

So my first official day as Platoon Sergeant we all gathered for morning formation, me standing in front of my Platoon --*giggles* “my” –funny. So the First Sergeant was up on a platform and in a loud and thunderous voice he called the Company to attention –

COMPANY!

“Company” meaning, the whole unit, all four platoons, so it’s like him saying, “Hey guys! Listen up!” At this point the Platoon Sergeants give a secondary command. You know, making sure the platoon was ready to receive the next command. So the Platoon Sergeants in turn yell, “Platoon”. This is like saying, “Hey guys! Did you hear the 1SG? He’s going to give us a command. Listen up!” It’s a preparatory command in that there’s no action to take but to be ready to do the next thing.

My Platoon was about 30 guys, they were all standing behind me in 4 rows, 4 very neat rows –soldiers standing tall, dress-right-dress. I was standing in front of them, with my back to them (we are all facing the 1SG) centered on the Platoon. It’s a beautiful thing, Drill and Ceremony is. So when the Platoon Sergeant gives their command, you are at the position of Attention and you look over your right shoulder to yell the command, "Platoon!".  Its all very quick, "COMPANY!"  "PLATOON!"  "ATTENTION!"

And I was so nervous and scared. I was so short and small compared to all those guys standing behind me. As soon as I heard the 1SG’s command, I whipped my head to the right looking over my shoulder and then in a very quivery crackly voice, stated almost apologetically, I said ---

platoon

Did you catch that? I didn’t say PLATOON! I didn’t even say, PLATOON or Platoon or Platoon --because all the energy that would be in or behind my voice –it was trying to keep my legs from giving out on me. All the strength my body could muster, it wasn’t in my voice –it was in my knees and pumping blood furiously through my veins –so there was nothing left for a big loud thunderous command.

Just  . . . .

platoon

Why You?

The answer is –I don’t know. I can only speculate and give you my personal opinions and experiences.

The question is –why you (as in me)? How come I was the one getting all this harassment?

Disclaimer: I can only speak for what I know that was over 20 years ago. I only hope great strides have been made in the military towards unbiased treatment of women serving in our Armed Forces and that there is a greater recognition and intolerance for sexual harassment. Back in the 80’s the understanding of sexual harassment was in its infancy. The military had strict policies against such harassment and even training however; what a 2010 mindset thinks sexual harassment is and what a 1980’s mindset thought sexual harassment was is a great chasm.

I’m probably the only military blog you happen to be reading so . . . I’m sure other women in the Army have their own stories to tell too. I wasn’t the only one with these type of experiences but I was (one of) the only ones telling –that’s the biggest difference.

First of all, neither men nor women had a clear-cut understanding of what sexual harassment was. People thought unless a sexual act was being offered, asked for or committed, it wasn’t harassment. The word “sexual” refers to gender, as much as anything else. I don’t think that was clear even to me because whereas many of these things bothered me, I'm not sure I fully understood my rights.

Secondly, as in the case of my shower experiences, once a female told on the males she was considered a baby, a tattle tale, a stupid girl who can’t cut it in the Army. So women were less likely to say anything because they didn’t want to endure more harassment or be looked at as being weak. Unfortunately, other women would get upset too when one woman decided to take a stand or “make a case”, as was my experience with my roommates. They didn’t want me to ruffle the feathers, make trouble and most importantly, they did not want to be “guilty by association” in the eyes of the other males. That’s what my one “ring leader” roommate was trying to do –separate herself from “my kind” –the weak cry-baby.

Sadly, this isn't all harassment I endured in the entirety of my military career --it’s just not worth going into all of it --but I suspect if these were my experiences and from other things I heard and saw, sexual harassment was a fierce roaring fire in the military back then. Like I said, I have no knowledge of what things are like now.

Part of my hesitation of even bringing any of this up was I was worried how it would be perceived. As the PLDC saga continues, you will see that even when reporting these things I was met with the reaction that I had brought it on myself or communicated in some way (spoken, body language, etc) that I wanted to be treated as such --that certainly was not the case.

But all this is essential to the story at hand so --I had to tell it.

Tomorrow, back to PLDC.

He Just Didn't Understand

I got another weekend pass and headed back home –er, I mean –to my barracks. Some of the guys were so far from their units they couldn’t leave for the weekend. I was fortunate to be at Division Headquarters so my barracks was just down the street.

The barracks was far from home but it wasn’t school either and my roommates and I actually liked each other! I could even wear civilian clothes. It was a Saturday afternoon and I was hanging around the barracks and who should I see? Staff Sergeant Newsome! I was torn between wanting to run up to him and hug him (I was sooooo sooo very happy to see him) or ignore him –like he had ignored me the weekend he was supposed to come pick me up.

He was glad to see me too, I could tell by the look on his face (which melted my heart); his eyes were bright, his smile wide and sincere. Desperately trying to contain myself and hide my excitement to see him, I walked up to him and told him I had waited hours and hours for him to pick me up my first weekend pass and he never showed up, like he promised he would. He just looks at me and said, “I DID come for you! I waited and waited! You never came out so I hung around the post and kept checking back for you. I figured you must have lost your pass or got stuck with duty or something so I finally left ---but I did wait for you. I sat in that parking lot and kept coming back every 30 minutes or so.” Still trying to pretend that I was very upset with him (I wasn’t) I said, “Then why didn’t you come look for me at the barracks Saturday night or Sunday? You knew I had a pass, you knew I’d be back.” He explained he didn’t know I had a pass and after waiting and waiting for me, he assumed I got my pass pulled. He said it wasn’t until Monday, after I had been back to school, that he found out I had been “home”.

So it was all one big misunderstanding? I was so glad because I wanted to stop pretending to be mad.

We spent the rest of the afternoon together and I unloaded on him everything happening in PLDC. I told him how much I hated it, how hard the course was, that I was one of only a few females, etc. etc. I told him about the shower and that I was going to be Platoon Sergeant and how I had to run my Platoon for the 5 mile run and and and –MAP READING!!! He didn’t react to any of it, much to my disappointment. It was weird because at least about the shower I wanted him to get upset and protective and angry –but it was almost as if this was all old news to him.

But that wasn’t all that strange –most of what I did or said about Army stuff to Newsome was old news. He certainly had far more experience and knowledge than I did. He had seen and heard it all. He encouraged me and gave me some pointers but for the most part, he acted like it was no big deal. He really didn’t want to talk about PLDC. In a way it disappointed me. Didn’t he understand how hard it was for me? Didn’t he understand I needed his help and expertise? He acted like it was all no big deal but he didn’t understand it was a big deal to me! I didn’t have his strength, endurance, knowledge, skill –oh sure, PLDC is child’s play to a Staff Sergeant ex-Drill but to me?

He just didn’t understand.

In The Basement

It really wasn’t a basement, per say but more like a lower level shelter. In fact, it was probably built for something such as that. It was more like cinder blocked hallways with pipes and plumbing exposed on the ceiling. The tiled floor was the only thing that kept the area from looking like a semi-finished space. It was very dimly lit which certainly didn’t add to any sense of a homey ambiance but made it all the more like a dungeon. There were doorways that lead to offices, storage, etc but they were kept locked and I never went into any of them or even glanced a peak inside.

It was here just at the bottom of the stairs that we’d gather to sing, talk, and relax. Those that weren’t singing with us would gather at the other end of the hall. Sometimes not everyone in our little singing group would show up because they had duty or needed to study (Study? Imagine that!) or whatever ---I was sort of the leader of our group because I had organized it but I wasn’t leading us in singing. We had picked a guy to lead our group –he had pretty good pitch so he could hum us a note to jump-off with.

One night as we were all making our way back upstairs trying to beat “lights out”, a particular Sergeant was walking behind me. I knew him, we talked on several occasions and he was always in the basement and just hanging around. Even on nights I didn’t make it down there myself (duty or whatever) I’d see him around the next day and he’d say something like, “Hey, I didn’t see you downstairs last night.” Okay well, didn’t know you were taking attendance. I mostly talked to him because he talked to me –I was trying to be nice and polite but I really didn’t like the guy –he was kind of creepy, if you ask me. In the course of our conversations he did tell me he was married and had three small children. That’s about all I knew about the guy.

So we’re walking up the stairs, creepy Sergeant Guy right behind me, and he grabs me –uh you know, grabs my back behind. I stopped dead in my tracks, spun around and said, “WHAT ARE YOU DOING?” He’s laughing and thinks its funny –me? Not so much. Then he acts like I’m making a big deal out of nothing, “Oh, it was nothing. I’m just playing around –it just a friendly tap.” I told him it was neither friendly nor ‘just a tap’ and I told him to keep his hands off of me. He apologized but was still laughing –it infuriated me!

But what was I going to do? Tell my roommates? Go to my Instructors? Storm into the Commandant’s office again? I felt like I just needed to handle this myself and the last thing I wanted to do was complain again or act like I couldn’t cut it being a female soldier.

So I just left it at that –and assumed that would be the last of it.

I was wrong.

Your Weapon

This will be important later so you need to understand something ---

From the moment you don your combat boots and BDU's in Baisic Training there's one thing that is DRILLED into your head:

YOU NEVER LEAVE YOUR WEAPON!  EVER!  NEVER!  NEVER!

You get your weapon (and oh, excuse me --its not a GUN) from the Arms Room.  You carry your weapon with you.  You keep your weapon with you until you turn it back into the Arms Room.  Got it?

But what if I have to eat? 

Well, if you're going to chow you leave someone outside to guard the weapons but other than that --your weapon will be with you at all times even when eating outside or in the field.

But what if I have to go to the bathroom? 

Sling that bad-boy across your shoulder and you do what you gotta do.

So I can't just give it to my buddy to hold?

DID YOU NOT HEAR ME?  YOU NEVER LEAVE YOUR WEAPON.  EVER.  NO, YOUR BUDDY IS NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR YOUR WEAPON.

Okay serisouly people, I don't think you get it.  When can you leave your weapon?  NEVER! 

Can't I just lay it down on the ground for a second while I . . . .

YOU CAN NEVER LAY YOUR WEAPON DOWN ON THE GROUND . . .

Oh, I'm getting so tired of explaining this ---YOU NEVER EVER EVER EVER EVER EVER EVER leave your weapon.

What if . . .

THERE ARE NO WHAT-IFS.  YOU NEVER LAY YOUR WEAPON DOWN, YOU NEVER LEAVE YOUR WEAPON!!

So when I'm in the field and we're sleeping . . what do I do with my weapon?

Good question, glad you asked.  Your weapon will be in your sleeping bag with you --RIGHT next to you IN the sleeping bag WITH you.

That doesn't sound very comfortable --can't I just . .

YOU CAN SLEEP WITH YOUR WEAPON IN YOUR SLEEPING BAG.  THAT'S IT!  YOUR WEAPON WILL BE WITH YOU AT ALL TIMES!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Geesh, okay, I got it.  No problem.

Great -----now let's move on.

Seriously Sergeant, I Have No Idea What You Mean!

Though I got a bit of a boost and felt more energized to carry-on, a few things were looming over my head; being Platoon Sergeant the 5 mile run, our field exercise and passing Map Reading.

A majority of the students that fluked out of PLDC did so by not being able to pass Map Reading. First we'd get classroom instruction then hands on instruction and then you're sent out to the woods with a map and a compass and you have to find certain points. Oh please, don't sit there thinking that sounds easy --it is not. The map I refer to doesn't have roads or signs --it is a terrain map that shows bodies of water, elevation, etc. Trust me when I say, its tough. All you are given is that map, a compass and coordinates. You have three chances to go out and get all of the coordinates and then --FAIL.  The map looks something like the one below (something I just snagged off the internet) but the one I had was in color (Nick try to imagine a world pre-iphone and Sheryl, try to  imagine a world pre GPS, you with me now?).

My grades had been slipping probably due to the fact I had no motivation to keep going and I was spending more time singing the Star Spangled Banner than I was studying.  I had previously been acing our written tests but slowly my grades were slipping and I going from 90's to 80's to 70's.  In fact, so much that my Instructor (the "nice one") pulled me aside and asked if anything was going on . .

IS ANYTHING GOING ON??

Hm well, what do you mean?  The fact that I hate it here?  My roommates hate me?  I'm thrown in with all these male soldiers and had to fight for privacy in the bathroom?  I live in fear of having to be Platoon Sergeant?  I think I'm going to fail map reading?  I can't focus because Newsome stood me up when I had a weekend pass and I can't call him or contact him so I have no idea what's going on?  How about how inadequate I feel being a soldier? Did I mention how boring the content is?  Do I care about weapons and soldiering stuff?  Could it be that we're running PT TWICE a day and I HATE RUNNING IN FORMATION????  Speaking of running --how 'bout that 5 mile run coming up?  Could that be troubling me?  Huh?  Or is it getting up at 5am every day?

Seriously Sergeant, I have no idea what you mean.  Anything going on with ME?  No, not really.

Oh Say Can You See

Our Off Duty hangout --the basement.

It was mostly "regulars" and of course, mostly males because need I keep saying, the school was ALL male (Ahem -- even our bathroom).  There were a couple other females that would be down there   --like the one girl I had stood at the bathroom door waiting to let back in . . .And even as few of females as we started out with, we were down by a few more since every week we were losing students one-by-one.

I wouldn't exactly say the basement was fun --but it was pretty laid back and some of the guys were pretty funny and anything was better than hanging with my roommates so it was a nice distraction.  Earlier my Instructor (the "nice one") had asked me if I could sing.  Well, I guess I need to explain . . . .

At the very end of PLDC in fact, the night before graduation if I remember correctly, there was a Dining In.  A Dining In is strictly for military personnel whereas a Dining Out would include guests such as spouses & dates.  Actually, I'm very bored right now trying to explain this and so you can go here---

MILITARY DINING IN

It's very formal, very military, very ceremonial and so of course, there is the posting of the colors and the Star Spangled Banner too.  So in preparation for the Dining In my Instructor, (the "nice one") was looking for someone to sing --thus he approached me.  Sure I can sing, I guess --but the Star Spangled Banner? He explained we really didn't have any instruments or music and when I told him I really didn't want to sing a solo a ccappella version of the Star Spangled Banner, I meant it to mean --no thank you, please find someone else.  But as the words left my lips and hit his ears and his brain translated their meaning, what he seemed to hear was I'd really prefer not to do it but I'd be glad to find someone that can.  That's what he heard because he said to me, "So great then, you got it?"  You don't exactly tell your Sergeant "no" so ---I guess I had this one.

So thus my nights in the basement were spent asking around, "Hey, do you sing?  Can you sing?"  I got mostly positive responses until I told them I was looking for someone to sing the National Anthem --solo without any accompaniment --then suddenly no one could sing.  But as some would respond to me, "I'd be glad to sing in a group or as a chorus but I don't want to sing solo", I wondered if that mattered.  I asked my Instructor (the "nice one") and he said he didn't care if it was 1 or 20 --just as long as it was sung.  So then I began gathering up voices and I'd say, "If you want to sing meet us in the basement at such-n-such time."    At first it was just me and another guy.  We decided to just give it a go --so we sang it out together and it wasn't bad ---but it wasn't good either.

But before you knew it we had more people join us.  Some of them had some choral experiences --others had not.  We were a very raw group, as far as talent and experience go and every night we'd just hang out in the basement and sing the Star Spangled Banner --and then something happened . . . .

We experimented with notes and sounds and parts and before you knew it, we had something actually quite fantastic down.  We even drew small little audiences as they heard us rehearse they'd come over just to listen, many commenting on how good we sounded.  We were quite proud too --I mean with so little training and no instrumentation (not even to give us our note), no written music --just a hallway in a basement (that was actually smoked filled because it was the only indoor smoking area) we were able to put something quite lovely together.

One day while in class my Instructor asked me, "By the way, did you ever find someone to sing for the Dining In?"  Oh boy did I ever!  I told him how our little group haphazardly came together and how we surprised even ourselves at how good we were getting.  I went on and on with it --because honestly, we were just that good.  And then my Instructor told other instuctors and they told two friends and they told two friends and so on and so on . . . . .

And the "basement people" were telling others too to come hear us sing and so word was getting around . . .

And maybe I might have been helping spread the word a little bit too . . .

Because I was so proud of our group.  But remember this  ---

Pride comes before the fall.

It Was Just The Boost I Needed To Keep Going

After Monday’s post, I decided to lighten things up a bit for Tuesday but I have not left you hanging so we will pick up where we left off . . . .

After my Instructor’s outburst he told us to take a break. I had fully expected everyone to rush towards the door, as they normally do, trying to get out for a smoke break or bathroom or –whatever but this time as soon as the Instructor dismissed us, my entire class came and circled around me. They all began to encourage me and say things like, “Don’t listen to that guy, he’s a jerk . . . . hey, we don’t think that about you and that guy should just speak for himself . . . . don’t let that upset you and don’t think every guy in the Army thinks that way . . . man, they shouldn’t let HIM in the Army . . . . “ Outwardly I was thanking the guys for their support but inside I was screaming, “BUT HE’S RIGHT! HE’S TOTALLY RIGHT! I HAVE NO PLACE HERE!”

Aside from the vulgarity and chauvinism I did agree with the guy. Maybe I was just taking up space in the Army that someone more deserving should have. Maybe I wasn’t cut out to be a soldier.

My memory goes back to age three and whereas I know it would be argued no one can really remember that early age, I most definitely can and I have confirmed those memories with older family members. In fact, my Dad thinks one specific memory I have I might have even only been two. The point is, for as far back as I can remember, I wanted nothing more than to be a Mom. I guess in part because I just wanted to be like my Mom –I thought she was so perfect and pretty and I loved how she loved me. I wanted to do that too, love someone like my Mom loved me. I loved that sense of being taken care of—even as I’d watch my Mother dust furniture or some other mundane house chore I’d feel taken care of. You never got the sense she was doing anything out of duty or obligation but out of a pure love and devotion for her family. I couldn’t think of any job more honorable or noble or perfectly suited for me.

In the 4th grade I was in Girls Scouts and we were doing an exercise in our handbooks about careers and our future and I put down I wanted to be a Wife and Mom as my career choice. When it came time to share our thoughts and I proudly read mine out loud the entire group laughed at me, even my leader. She said, “Well, that’s just something you do, it’s not a career or a job. Don’t you have any idea what you want to be when you grow up?” Totally embarrassed and feeling so inadequate I said, “Well, I guess a nurse.” A nurse? Please! There was nothing in me then or now that wanted to be a nurse but it was all I could think of. What was wrong with wanting to be a stay-home Mom? Why did everyone laugh at me?

In a way my Instructor’s outburst was the best and worst thing that happened. It was bad because I became more insecure about getting through the course and on a personal level, it made me feel like a failure—like I wasn’t the person I was suppose to be. But on the other hand, it was a pivotal moment when everything started to change. From that point on my classmates rallied around me. They helped me and supported me. Each one of them took on sort of a big-brother role with me. They looked out for me, they stuck up for me. It was not only nice but it kind of shored me up. I had been so alone but now I had a sense of being part of the team.

It was just the boost I needed to keep going.

Its Just Tough Being a Girl in the Army

One day we were on a training exercise and we were supposed to be outside but it was bad weather, I think, and so they moved the training inside. The details are a bit sketchy to me but what I do know for certain is that we were supposed to be outside, we got moved indoors, we had to eat an MRE (Meal Ready to Eat) for lunch.

We had to sit along the walls in the basement and eat our lunch and not being a stranger to MRE’s since we had them in Basic and AIT too, I opened mine and began to prepare my meal.

I neatly tore open the package & examined the contents carefully one by-one. I laid all my food out in the order which I was going to eat it then I found my wet nap and wiped my hands. I don’t remember what my main dish was but it was something I didn’t like so I decided to pass on it and just eat the peanut butter & jelly with my crackers. So I lined up my crackers on a napkin and began spreading peanut butter on each one with my little plastic utility –which was basically just a plastic stick (like the packages of cheese and crackers you can buy). Suddenly I feel a strange sense of silence and being watched, having been in my own little world up until now, I look up and around and see all my fellow male soldiers starring at me.

“What? Why is everyone looking at me like that? What?”

Finally one guy says, “Who spreads peanut butter on their crackers like that? You’re not frosting a cake –YOU’RE IN THE FIELD!”

Then there were some chuckles and all the guys went back to eating –er well, inhaling their food. I sat there still a bit confused. The guy across from me said in between his quick bites, “Hey, you’re in the field –the enemy is at our back. We’re not here for a dinner date or anything –you gotta eat what you can and move on!”  Then I noticed before I could even get my peanut butter evenly spread onto my crackers, they were just about done eating.  They were squeezing their food right from the package onto their crackers or even into their mouth.  It wasn't like they were eating like savages --but they weren't exactly being dainty either.

It was kind of comical to see these male soldiers throwing food down their neck, barely tasting or chewing the stuff and in the midst of that, I was eating my lunch as if I were on a sunny Sunday afternoon picnic!

It’s just so tough being a girl in the Army.

*reapplies lip gloss*
*taps soldier next to me on shoulder*
Excuse me, *rubs lips together* does my lip gloss look okay? I don’t have a mirror or anything . . . . . .how does this shade look with camouflage?

Exposed

Each day was filled with classroom instruction. It was boring stuff, very boring stuff but you know, just your standard military fare. I had two instructors and they took turns doing a block of instruction. Once we completed a unit we were given a written test. If you failed, you could take the test two more times but after three failures, you were out of the course.

One of my instructors was new to PLDC so he was kind of taken under the wing of the more seasoned instructor. The new guy was Hispanic and spoke with a heavy accent. He was very tall & lanky. He had thick jet black hair and a bushy jet black mustache. He was funny, always making jokes and hardly ever staying on task. At first I preferred his instruction because well –he really just sat up there and told stories and told jokes so it was entertaining but I soon realized he wasn’t giving us the content we needed for the tests so I began to dread his instruction blocks. And as if having all (or most) of my peers hate me wasn’t enough, I could tell this guy didn’t care for me much either. He never made eye contact with me. Whenever he’d ask a question and I had my hand raised, he never called on me –even if I was the only one with my hand up. He pretty much ignored the fact that I was in the room. One time, during a block of instruction that covered something to do with weapons, he was describing his M-16 rifle as if it were his male body part until I spoke up and said, “Hey!”. He looked over at me, rolled his eyes then said, “Ah man, forget it!” then dropped the subject. He acted like a little boy who just got his favorite toy taken from him.

I was pretty much used to stuff like this –male soldiers forgetting female soldiers were around or male soldiers just not caring and acting stupid and inappropriate. It happened a lot and for the most part, they’d stop when you asked them to and it wasn’t a big deal. I don’t condone the behavior but I sort of understood the male point of view. It’s like a group of guys getting together to play a game of football and suddenly your Mom shows up and demands your little sister play too. Now all the rules of the game have changed and you can’t play like you want to. You went from playing a rough game of tackle football to basically just tossing the ball around. It’s not what you signed up for. I understand it can be tough to switch gears like that but at the same time, there are just certain things women should not have to tolerate.

We took a short break and then returned to the classroom. I guess the whole time this “female business” had been eating away at my instructor because he came back all agitated and tense. At first I wasn’t sure what his problem was but it was no time at all before all his thoughts and emotions came bursting through.

Right there in the middle of class he burst out and looked at me and yelled with is thick Hispanic accent:

YOU SIT-A THERE THINKING YOU-S A SOLDIER BUT YOU CAN’T EVEN BE A SOLDIER.   YOU CAN'T EVEN GO TO WAR.  WHY THE ARMY LETS WOMAN IN I -A DON’T UNDERSTAND. YOU-S SUPPOSE TO BE HOME COOK’N DA FOOD, HAV’N DA BABIES, TAKING CARE OF YOUR MAN BUT LOOK AT YOU! LOOK AT YOU SITTING THERE TAKING UP SPACE IN THE ARMY THAT A MAN COULD HAVE. A MAN NEEDS YOUR JOB NOT YOU! AND LOOK AT YOU! YOUS WEARING MAN CLOTHES. YOU THINK-A YOU LOOK GOOD? ATTRACTIVE? YOU THINK-A ANY OF THESE GUYS *waves hand around the room* LOOK-A AT YOU AND THINK THEY WANNA TAKE YOU HOME TO MEET THEIR MAMMA AND HAVE THEIR BABIES? HELL NO! OH SURE, THEY MIGHT WANNA F*** YOU BUT THAT’S ABOUT IT –THAT’S ALL YOUS-A GOOD FOR –A GOOD F*** CUZ NO ONE HERE WANTS TO TAKE A GIRL DRESSED IN MAN CLOTHES HOME TO MEET-A THEIR MAMMA!  YOU WANNA BE A REAL SOLDIER?  I SAY GET YOUR A** OUT ON THE FRONT LINE AND SHOW US WHAT YOU'RE REALLY MADE OF.  WOMEN CAN'T GO TO WAR?  I SAY THATS-A SOME BULL SH**!  YOU-S WANNA DRESS-A LIKE DA MAN AND ACT LIKE DA MAN --THEN YOU BE THE MAN TOO!

Dead silence fell upon the room.

I dropped my head and just sat staring at my desk. I had no words, no reaction. I felt numb. Little did that Sergeant know that he had unearthed my deepest insecurity –being a female soldier. There wasn’t one moment I had ever felt confident in my soldiering skills. There was never a moment I didn’t HATE wearing my BDU uniform (which they claim is unisex but it really is just made for men). And deeper in my heart than even that, there was this desire in wanting to be a wife and mother. I didn’t want to be a soldier. I didn’t want to be a career woman. I wanted to be a wife. I wanted to love and be loved. I wanted to be a mother just like the woman my mother was. I wanted to have babies and love my babies and take care of my babies. With the exception of Connie, no one knew that about me –not even my family or sisters. My longings for those things weren’t just something I wanted –it was who I was meant to be. I felt incomplete and I felt like a failure.

And now, I felt exposed even more exposed than being walked in on in the shower.

After what seemed an eternity of silence, I heard one of the male soldiers kind of quietly say, “Come on man, that was uncalled for and unfair. You can’t say stuff like that.”

My neck, face and tips of my ears felt like they were on fire, I knew I was flushed with embarrassment and I didn’t want to lift my head but I didn’t want to sit there like some whipped puppy dog either. So I lifted my head and I looked my instructor dead in the eyes and through my stare I tried to muster up as much confidence as I could but he couldn’t even stand to look at me –he quickly turned his face from me and said, “Ah man forget-da about it.”

And every insecurity within me was unleashed.

Stepping Back in PLDC

I need to take a step back into PLDC for today.

The Mess Hall we ate in was on the same installation as the school but it was down the street so for every meal we had to march in formation to go eat. Every other weekend, the Mess Hall closed and so we’d have to leave our installation and go to another one across the street for our meals and again, we’d have to march in formation.

Remember my class was mostly composed of male soldiers that came from a CAV unit –an all male front-line unit of hard-core soldiers. They were used to being around just men and they were used to behaving like they were around just men.

So the first weekend we were at school we were marching across the street and our Platoon Sergeant was singing cadence. I normally loved cadence (especially when a certain former Drill Sergeant Newsome was singing. . .) but today I heard things I had never heard before.

Completely forgetting I was the only female in the Platoon, our dear leader began singing cadence such as –okay well, I can’t tell you exactly what the words were but I can tell you it was a lot about ---um –male body parts and what boy soldiers wanted to do --well, you get the idea.

When we got to the Mess Hall and broke formation, some of the guys came up to me and apologized saying, “I don’t think that guy realized you were here.” I was offended and these were cadences I had never heard before and I did appreciate the fact that some of the soldiers apologized and realized how inappropriate it all was.

The next day I mentioned it to my class instructor. I wasn’t upset or anything. It was more like, “Hey, BTW –I’d rather we not sing these cadences.” My instructor just shook his head and said something like, “Those guys know better than that.” Later he reminded the class that we were not in an all male setting and to be careful about cadences, language, etc. No one made a big deal over it. It was done.

Except that much later I would learn a certain Hispanic Instructor heard about it and he was none too happy.  I'm not sure how he found out or why but the news didn't sit well with him.  He commented that a soldier is a soldier and if the females can't cut it, they need to get out of HIS Army.  He didn't think the male soldiers should have to change their cadence simply because a female soldier was in their unit.  But this information I would learn much later but you get the inside scoop because it sets us up for Monday's post.

It's Gonna Get Ugly

Part of the reason I have not posted in a while is because I was uncertain of how to proceed. I'm still not certain but I have at least decided to proceed . . with caution.

And so its gonna get ugly before its over.  The content and language (which will be disguised with a lot of *******) gets serious but after much consideration and lamentation over the facts, I decided all these pieces are part of the story and are pertinent to the ending.  I could gloss over them or skip them all together but that would be like putting together a puzzle and leaving pieces of it out.

This is my disclaimer.  You were forewarned.

Today's "real" post is below.

M

The Resolution

The next day I got called out of class to go see the Commandant. I figured this could be about anything; the bathroom incident, shower, my disrespect or perhaps he was just going to tell me to pack my bags and go back to my unit. It would have been a huge relief.

But that is not what he did. He was very apologetic about the whole shower incident but not so much towards me, it seemed. He explained that though they had assigned the bathroom during certain times to the female soldiers, apparently that information was you know –not disseminated very well and there were a few soldiers that you know just –didn’t get the memo. I could tell he was really trying to downplay the whole thing. No big deal. Sorry it happened. Let’s move on. No big deal, right? Right, Specialist Dodge? You agree, right? NO BIG DEAL. I mean, no need to go any further with this, right? He went on to explain from this point forward male soldiers were going to pull guard duty by sitting in front of the bathroom during the female’s assigned bathroom time. This was to ensure male soldiers did not enter.

I guess that was okay I mean –I really didn’t think putting a male soldier outside the bathroom was a very comforting thought but at least it was better than nothing and so . . .okay, I told the Commandant, it would be fine. Well, it was mostly fine with me but turns out, it really ticked off the male soldiers.

The male soldiers were none to happy to have another duty assignment and pretty much felt like it wasn’t their fault or their problem that the females didn’t have their own bathroom. I can’t say I disagreed with them but it wasn’t my call. In retrospect, if it had been my decision or if I had been bold enough to suggest it, my solution would have been to make the bathroom on our floor strictly females only and have all the males living on that floor have to go to the floor up or down to shower. I realize it still inconveniences the males but much less so than having to pull duty.

And now the male soldiers were mad at me. The general consensus was I had made a big deal out of nothing and going to the Commandant wasn’t necessary –I should have just you know, nicely asked the soldiers, “Can you please refrain from entering the bathroom during the female assigned time?” And they all would have gladly complied and paid extra close attention to the time.

From then on every time I went to take a shower I had to pass the male soldier on duty and hear remarks like, “So you’re the B**** that got me stuck on duty!” Or sometimes as I was walking towards the bathroom some (stupid) male soldier would yell out something like, “WARNING GUYS! DO NOT ENTER THE BATHROOM! You might upset Little Missy there.” Or, “HEY –IF ANYONE WANTS TO COP A PEAK, NOW’S THE TIME TO DO IT!”

I never complained or told anyone because that’s exactly what got me into this mess to begin with –telling so this time I was just going to keep my mouth shut. The harassment lasted a few days until everyone got board with it.

Little did I know then, there was a lot more sexual harassment to come – A LOT more, none of which was even related to the bathroom incidents.

I Was Shaking So Badly I Could Barely Stand

As soon as I was done speaking and this wave of reality came over me, I slowly stood up straight, took a step back, brought myself to the proper position of “At Ease” (because snapping to “Parade Rest” at this point seemed over kill) and waited for the wrath. I was shaking so badly I could barely stand.

From the very moment I first stormed into the Commandant’s office, my eyes were fixed squarely on his face. Though all these emotions were swelling up inside of me and adrenaline was my driving force like cels of an animation scene, I had these frozen split-second shots in my head of the Commandant’s expressions. It was as if his face said:

WHAT IS GOING ON?
WHO DOES SHE THINK . . .WHO IS . . .WHAT IS SHE . . . .
I’M GOING TO TEAR HER APART FOR STORMING . . . .
WHAT? Again? Really? What idiots. . . . . .
Now what do I say?

I suddenly became keenly aware of the fact that I was wet –all over. My hair was still dripping and my clothes were quite damp and sticking to me. I wondered how I looked standing there before a Command Sergeant Major, a rank deserving far more respect than I had to give at this particular moment. I was swimming in all these thoughts of regret and then I thought to myself, "but you have the right to take a shower without being walked in on by male soldiers. Stand your ground, Melissa, now is not the time to back down."

I don’t think the Commandant knew what to say. He sat there for a few moments then asked me to tell him exactly what happened and all the while he had a look of disbelief on his face. He finally just calmly said, “I will look into it.” Then sent me on my way. As I made my way back to my room those same male soldiers that had stood in my pathway yelling at me now stood there with their jaws dropped open wondering how is it I was able to storm my way into the Commandant’s office and just freely walk out. How come I wasn’t in trouble?

Getting back to my room, despite the situation with my lovely roommates, seemed like a place of solace for me. I wanted to get away from the stares and whispers, “She’s the one?”. As I approached my room I heard my roommates talking. The one “ring leader” against me was trying to convince the others both of these situations were my fault or that I was making both stories up to get attention. I over heard her say, “But it’s only happened to her twice. She’s either lying or setting herself up for this to happen.” Then the roommate that had been in the shower with me the second incident said, “Yeah, it does seem strange she’s the one it keeps happening to but I was there this time too. I sure didn’t plan it or make it up. It happened and well, she was surprised. I could tell. It’s not like she was expecting it.” I walked into the room and all talking stopped instantly. Everyone was uncomfortable –the tension was thick and the silence was deafening. Everyone tried to pretend to busy themselves with shining their boots or whatever until I broke the silence and said, “I didn’t plan it, I didn’t make it up. I don’t know why it happened to me twice but it did. I don’t care how much you hate me, if you guys don’t stand with me and demand something be done, it’s going to happen to you too. This isn’t about me or you but it’s about all of us and we have a right to our privacy.”

The one “ring leader” just looked down and put all the energy of hatred for me into shining her boots. Her hands were going a mile a minute fiercely circling the toe of her Jump Boots with her polishing rag. Her face was deep red with anger not about the situation but just –I don’t know –just my mere presence in the room, I guess. She intently stared down at her boots, breaking her line of vision only to spit in her cup as she had a huge wad of tobacco stuffed into her bottom lip.

Under normal conditions, PLDC is a tough course to get through. Its very demanding and fast paced. You either cut it or you don’t. Pass or fail –no in between. The whole point of the course is to turn out Leaders, not sissies. Not babies. Not whiners. Not incompetent soldiers –LEADERS. Getting through the course alone is tough enough but doing it with the crap my roommates wanted to dump on me and the situations that kept coming up, this was becoming more than I could handle. It didn’t seem important any more to me to finish the course.

I didn’t care.

Again?

The weekend pass was short. I mostly sat in my barracks feeling sorry for myself and dreading going back to school. It just seemed a matter of time I was going to get kicked out anyway and besides even if I managed to hold-my-own for a while, I was never going to make it as a Platoon Sergeant and my classmates reminded me of that every day. I was losing ground in the classroom and I was losing ground with my roommates. I was miserable. No wonder I desperately dreaded going back.

But not going back wasn't exactly a choice --I mean, that IS called AWOL. If school wasn't going bad enough, I was disappointed to have been stood up AGAIN by Newsome. I mean, granted the last time it was that little hospital incident but even so, I was upset and disappointed and now I was going back to a place I despised to live with people that despised me. What fun!!!

The situation with my roommates only further deteriorated. I got to the point I was only in my room to sleep. The only other place I could go to avoid being in my room was downstairs in the basement, the only authorized "hang out" off duty. After dinner each day I'd do my assigned chores, take a shower then spend the rest of the evenings downstairs until just before lights out. Hanging out downstairs wasn't so bad. I mean, we literally stood around in a hallway just talking or studying. Two very important things would take place here --that comes later on but for now, I was making friends, meeting people outside of my platoon, etc.

One particular time after class I went on with my schedule and after finishing up my work I went to take a shower. I was in there only for a few minutes when my roommate, the one that had caught me standing next to the door near the woman's rest room, walked in. Remember, we didn't have private shower stalls, just one big open space. We sort of had this unspoken rule, trying to give each other as much privacy as possible, to stagger our shower times but that didn't always work out and so you just gotta do what you just gotta do. I was already using a shower on the far wall, directly facing the entrance (doorway), so she went over to a shower that was on the same wall as the doorway. You know, as awkward as the situation was, you just tried to stay as far apart from one another as possible so . . . .there we were, trying to pretend the other one didn't exist, when I heard someone else come in so I was trying to hurry up and finish as it was just getting a bit too crowded for me. I look up at the doorway and ---there's a male soldier completely naked except for his shower shoes, towel thrown over his shoulder, a bag with some toiletries in his hand and I SCREAMED------------------GET OUT OF HERE!!!!!!!!!!!!!! My roommate had not seen the guy walk in since her back was to the entrance but as soon as she heard me scream she looked over and quickly tried to uh --you know, cover up doing that whole cross your arms over your body thing. For goodness sakes, we had nothing to cover up with. WE WERE IN THE SHOWER.

I'm so angry now I just can't even think straight. I mean AGAIN??? This happens AGAIN?????? The guy was gone in an instant. When he first walked in he wasn't even paying attention and even he didn't realize it was two females in the shower, not two males. He had bright red hair, because I remember thinking his face turned as red as his hair when he looked up after hearing me scream but other than that, I don't remember anything else about him or even knew who he was.  It was quite a scene. He got out of the bathroom as quickly as he could and as he was leaving, either out of nerves or habit, he turned the lights off.

Well great! That makes it better now I'm in a wet slippery shower room and I can't see. . . and I have no idea if that guy was still in there or left or what. I mean, why did he turn the lights off? What's going on?  Was he still in there?  Lurking?  Hiding?  Waiting?

I fumble my way back to the dressing area, all the while yelling, "You better not still be in here.  Hello?  Anyone here?  Hello?", I put my clothes on and storm out of that bathroom like a mad woman. I stopped off at my room to drop off my things and I said to my roommates, "IT HAPPEND AGAIN!" Then I left the room on my way to see the Commandant. Even writing this, the anger is surging up inside of me again. Those emotions are surfacing as I recall the memory --I was livid!

Knowing we were not allowed to have civilian clothes, it is most likely I was wearing BDU pants, a brown t-shirt and probably just my shower shoes. Whatever it was, I clearly was not in a proper uniform, which was required not only to be walking around the barracks but certainly to go see the Commandant. I didn't care. My soaking wet hair, which was quite long at the time, was whipping about my face as I was angrily marching myself downstairs. The rules were we were not allowed to walk down the middle of the hall way, we had to walk single file to the furthest right of the wall, no talking and always looking straight ahead. I was also walking through areas that were "male only", which was the only way for me to get to the Commandant, and soldiers were all about doing their chores, which included cleaning and buffing the floors --and I stormed right through them like a soldier going to battle. Guys were yelling out at me things like, "Hey, who do you think you are . . . you can't walk through here like that . . . .you're out of uniform . . . . HEY! I just mopped that floor . . . " and onward I kept marching, ignoring every one of them.

When I got to the lower level where the Commandant's office was, the CQ desk (Charge of Quarters, sort of like the "check in desk"), was in the corner. It was there you were to stop and tell the CQ who you needed to see and why. I didn't stop. I remember out of my peripheral vision I could see the CQ standing there with his hands out as if to stop me but I got by him too quickly. Other male soldiers were stopping what they were doing and watching me march on. Marching -- I kept on and I didn't even stop when I got to the Commandant's office. I didn't even knock on the door. I whipped open that door and walked up to the Commandant's desk. I slammed my hands flat down onto his desk and leaned over. As I did, my still soaking wet hair was falling forward and leaving drip marks on papers he had strewn about his desk. I looked him straight in the eye and fighting back tears that were mixed with embarrassment, anger, fear and shock I said to him with all the seriousness and anger of a mother bear defending her cub, "Tonight is the LAST night a male soldier walks in on me in the shower!"

And then I realize exactly what I had done --in an instant it occurred to me all the rules and protocol I had just broken and most importantly, I was a mere E4 bursting into an E9's office slamming my hands down on his desk and demanding things. Suddenly I wasn't feeling so bold anymore in fact, I was downright terrified. I began to tremble and think, "Oh Melissa, what have you done now?"