Annoying

Why I got so annoyed --

Well you know, aside from my little hissy fits about people not being able to sign in properly and the fact that I was physically miserable, pregnant, emotionally stressed, mentally stressed and having no clue as to my future . . .(I'll explain all of that later, I promise) there are just things about our clients that got on my last nerve.

We had one client that came in -she and her husband were having a house built or renovating, I forget which but anyway, she came in for some legal counsel because her painter used the wrong color on the walls.  What so --she asked for pink and he painted them blue?  Not exactly --they chose the color Eggshell and the painter used Linen --or something like that.  She brought in the labels from the paint cans and samples from the paint store and honestly, I had to hold them in the sunlight and really really really squint in order to see the difference.  But you know, her world was crumbling . . . she asked the painter to redo the walls which he agreed to do but told the woman he would still charge her for his time.  And like I said, this caused her world to shatter.  This woman came into our office no less than three times crying, whining and complaining she couldn't get her painter to redo the walls free of charge.   She annoyed me.  She whined and acted like the entire universe should come to a halt because her walls were eggshell and not linen.  I felt like our time could be better served you know, SERVING SOLDIERS.

I also had a short fuse for clients that came in and wanted to tell us what the laws were, "Well, I talked to this guy whose wife's aunt is a judge in Utah and he was telling me she told his wife. . . "  Uh, that's Utah, baby and that's about 3 persons far removed from you so . . . . . but these guys would come in all cocky and full of themselves.  Hey, if you already know the law why are you wasting our time?  They didn't necessarily really want to know the law, they just wanted to find a loophole to fit their desires.

I was torn between feeling sorry for and being annoyed by the young (dumb) soldiers THAT WE WARNED against a certain action and they decide not to heed the attorney's legal advise and then come in a few months later . . . like the soldiers that would bring in a lease for review and be STRONGLY advised against signing it but they were so impatient and anxious to get out of the barracks, usually because they just couldn't wait to live with their girlfriend, so they'd sign the lease anyway, get screwed over by the landlord then come in and want JAG to fix it and make it all better.

The young wives that would sign a legal separation and give everything to their husband, again against all legal advice, then come back in a few months and say, "I changed my mind . . ."  Honey, you signed a legally binding document.  The wife would say, "But I thought if I gave him what he wanted he'd come back home."  Ugh!   Granted the legal separation would be superseded by any divorce decree and the Army did require a certain amount of spousal support but even so, some woman just were so desperate to salvage their marriage and try to get their husbands to love them.  I guess "annoyed" is the wrong answer for this scenario but it did happen time and time again.

One soldier came in and wanted to sue the state of Alaska  . . .
Females that wanted to sue males for telling people they slept together . . and not because they didn't but because they did . . .

Day in and day out, I grew weary of such nonsense and honestly, because JAG services are at no cost to the soldier or family member, I think every and any whim that crossed some people's minds caused them to come in for help and if they had to pay for the service they would have thought more seriously about it.  Like, it had no value to them or something . . and that would bog down our appointment schedule.

But then there were those people that you really did help ---that really needed legal assistance and those clients, I loved them.  You'll meet a couple more of them.

Serving Those That Served

One day we got a call from a young man that was the son of a retired soldier.  The son explained that the father was disabled and had a very difficult time getting out of the house so he wanted to know if we could send someone to his home to notarize some documents for his Dad.  I was pretty sure we weren't able to do that but I told him I'd ask. 

As I suspected, my OIC said no and that the man would have to come into our office.  A day or two later the son came in and reminded me of who he was, "I'm the one that called about my Dad . .  ."  He explained his Dad was in the car but it was quite difficult for him to get in and out of the car and could I please come out to the parking lot to notarize documents for him.

I wasn't sure for two reasons.  First of all, though this man seemed to be genuine and nice, I wasn't sure if he was telling the truth.  What if he was just trying to get someone over to his house or out to his car?   Secondly, I felt I should get my OIC's permission before I went out so I told the man I'd ask.  I asked the Captain and he again said no.  When I came back out and told the son I was not able to do it, I could tell he was very disappointed and then he asked if he brought the signed documents in would I just go ahead and notarized them.  I explained to him I could not do that --the person had to personally appear before me, "Okay then, I"ll just bring Dad in."

It was quite a while later when the son and Dad came into our office.  I had long forgotten about the son and thought he really was lying or just figured it wasn't worth the trouble --what I didn't figure on was it took so long because it was just that difficult for this man to get around.

The father was in a wheel chair and had a multitude of problems.  He was very frail and thin looking, on oxygen, braces on his legs, something on his head to keep it up.  Despite his physical ailments, he was still very sharp minded and knew what was going on.  When I saw this man, I felt bad that I just didn't go out to the car like he requested.  The documents they brought in were all in regards to the man's care; things that were medically necessary and POA's giving his son authority to make medical decisions, conduct his personal finance, etc.  I needed to be certain this man understood what he was doing.  Call me cynical but there are children out there that abuse their parents and take advantage of them.  Before I let this man sign anything, I had to be certain he knew what he was doing.  The man looked like he really should have been in a home but the son told me he just could not do it --he was going to take care of his Dad as long as he could.

I knelt down to talk to the gentleman face-to-face.  I asked his name, I asked his son's name and then asked if the man with him was that son.  I chatted with him a little bit about his time in service, etc. and what seemed like me just making small talk, I was really trying to determine if this man had presence of mind and knew what was going on.  I then briefly explained the documents and asked if he understood what he was signing and if that was his desire, he indicated yes.  When I was confident the man had clarity of mind and was not signing under any duress, I notarized the documents for him.  The two men then went on their way.

A little while later I was leaving for lunch and I saw the two of them in front of the building.  The son was still getting the father strapped into the car --it was quite a procedure; I could see why the son was hoping to get someone out to the car.  I stood there for a short while watching --the son handled his Dad so tenderly, it was touching.  The Dad just completely resigned himself to his son and the son handled that trust with such great honor --it showed in their faces and in the manner they reacted toward one another.

As I was walking by them the son saw me and said, "Oh Hi, Sergeant."  I went up to him and said, "I can't come out to your home but if you ever need anything from our office again, just call ahead and I'll meet you outside.  There's no need for you and your Dad to have to go through all of this just to get some service."  The son thanked me --and he also took me up on the offer.  Two more times they came in.  The son would park in front of the building and come in.  I didn't make him sign in or wait --I just took a clip board with me with my seal and went out to the car.  I never asked permission from my OIC nor did I care what he would say --we were in the business of serving soldiers, the same soldiers that so honorably served us.  Walking out to his car was just the least of what I could do for him.

I Had My Moments

Maybe I did help the Korean woman, I have always wondered what happened to her . . but I wasn't always that nice and helpful.  I mean, if I thought someone was in danger I would help but often times, our clients just annoyed me.

I was in my second trimester of pregnancy and I was miserable. It was mid summer and Kansas was experiencing record heat. I was also going through a lot of personal stress (some related to the pregnancy, some not) and I had just about had it with Legal Assistance. Day in and day out it was non-stop madness and I guess this particular day I just hit a wall. It was the proverbial last straw on the camel's back.

I had long ago grown weary of people scribbling their names onto the sign-in sheet –we could not read their handwriting so I wrote at the top of the sign-in sheet, “PLEASE PRINT.” No one paid any attention to that so I put a sign just above the sign-in sheet, “PLEASE PRINT”. Still no one paid attention so I made the sign bigger and more prominent, “PLEASE PRINT LEGIBLY!” And STILL no one paid attention so I made a bigger sign that said, “IF WE CAN’T READ YOUR NAME, WE CAN’T CALL YOUR NAME! PLEASE PRINT CLEARLY!”

AND STILL PEOPLE IGNORED THE SIGN. I would stand in the waiting area with the clipboard in my hand, “Sergeant . . . Art—something . . “ No one moved. “The last name is - - A, R, T . . or maybe it starts with an O? I can’t read the writing. . Sergeant E6 . . .Ort---something or Art—something? Anyone?” No one moved. “Well, if your name has not been called you might want to come check the sign-in sheet. I can’t call your name if I can’t read it. Anyone?” Still no one moved.

FINE! I would go onto the next name. Then a short while later some Sergeant would come up to my desk all infuriated and huffy because he had been waiting so long . . . “But Sergeant, I tried to call your name, I asked everyone to come check the sign in board, the sign clearly says to print. You did not print, you signed your name and it’s impossible to read.”

That happened repeatedly so like I said; I just hit a spot where I was fed up with it and both the heat and my pregnancy had soaked up ALL of my patience. One day I went to call a name and again it was someone that signed their name, they did not print. I tried to decipher the writing and several times I called out what I thought the name to be and then said, “If your name has not yet been called you might want to come check the sign-in sheet. PLEASE print your name, do not use cursive writing.” Each time I went back to the sign-in sheet to call the next person, I checked that signature to see if someone had come back to print their name, nope.

A short time later a woman came up to my desk, said she had an appointment and had been waiting well over 45 minutes. I asked her if she signed in and she said yes so I went to the clipboard and brought it over to her. I pointed to the signature that I could not read and asked, “Is that you?” She indicated that it was. I was stunned. HOW MANY TIMES DID I ANNOUNCE TO COME CHECK THE CLIP BOARD AND PRINT YOUR NAME? I very nicely apologized to her that she had not been called but then I also explained we attempted to call her name several times and could not read it and we also made several announcements in regards to checking the clipboard to make sure your name was printed and clear. She just said, “Well, I thought mine was.” I then told her I would have to reschedule her appointment because I did not have an attorney available to see her that day because she missed her appointment. SHE WAS LIVID probably both because I told her she would have to reschedule and because of the manner in which I was speaking to her.  I was being very short and  --well, uh --rude.   We had a short exchange of words and I am not exactly sure how it came about but I finally said something to her like, “Well it’s obvious you can’t read or write!” As soon as I said that I heard the typing of the civilian secretary stop and out of the corner of my eye I could see the expression on her face was, “I can’t believe you just said that!” I pretty much could not believe I said it either but you know, it was already out there and I was not backing down. The woman started crying and saying she could not believe how badly she was being treated and asked to see my boss. The OIC was not in at the time so I went and got the attorney she was originally scheduled to see. This Captain was really nice and he was mostly on my side but he did say, “Sergeant, you really can’t talk to our clients that way.” He was right and I knew he was right. The Captain agreed to see the woman to take care of whatever legal matter she had come in for. Before she left, the Captain called me in and explained I owed the woman an apology and he was right, I really did need to apologize to her for not only what I said but also how I treated her. So I apologized but then I was crying and then she started crying again and both of us were just a mess.

In our sobs and tears, we said to each other:

“I’m sorry I said you couldn’t read or write –I was just frustrated with my job but I shouldn’t have taken it out on you. “

“Its okay, Sergeant. You are pregnant and I understand how hard it must be for you. I really did think I printed my name clearly. I did read the sign. I hope you are okay now, I hope your baby is okay. I don’t want to see you cry.”

The poor Captain was just sitting at his desk watching this tearful exchange of apologies between us.  She was actually a very nice lady; well dressed, educated, well spoken.

The Captain apologetically wrote me up. He kept saying over and over, “I’m really sorry but I have to do this.” It was not that big of a deal. Getting written up is just documentation that you had been warned about something just in case the behavior continues. I deserved it. But even in being written up the Captain wrote that I was pregnant and going through stress both on and off the job and I ordinarily was very nice and professional to our clients but I just had a bad day. He explained to me though he understood the personal stress I was under that I needed to be more patient with the clients and if I was having a difficult time reading names I was to continue to make announcements for people to come check the board.

I knew I needed to find more patience and not take my frustrations out on our clients and I knew what I said to that woman was wrong. I also thought it was ridiculous people could not clearly print their name on a piece of paper.

There was another time I had no patience with a client. I had a soldier sitting at my desk waiting for me to type up a Power of Attorney for him. He had a big wad of tobacco in his mouth and as he is sitting there, he leans over and spits in my garbage can. I looked over at him with pure disgust and said, “Don’t do that again.” He apologized but then said, “But I need to spit.” It made me so angry and like I said, I was very low on patience, so I ripped his POA out of my typewriter and slammed it on my desk and said to him, “Then you can leave and go get rid of that wad of tobacco and come back when you’re ready to conduct business.” The OIC was walking by and all he heard was, “come back when you’re ready to conduct business.” And that must have seemed odd to him both in terms of what I was saying but also because the Soldier, a Staff Sergeant (E6) out ranked me. He stopped and asked me what was going on but he said it in such a tone and demeanor as if I had done something wrong –like he was ready to intervene and make me do my job. I picked up my garbage can, showed it to him and said, “He’s spitting his chew into my garbage can.” The Captain then looked at the Staff Sergeant and said, “Oh yeah, that is disgusting.” Then he walked away. The SSG left and returned in a few minutes without his wad. I finished his POA and sent him on his way.

Justice Served

I tried to talk to the woman to get a better understanding of what was going on in her marriage. Some of the things she told me were:

When her husband went to the field, which could be anywhere from a day to a month or more, he left her with nothing but a 30-pound bag of rice and when she would ask when he would be home he would tell her, “Before the rice runs out.”

Her husband refused to put her name on any bank accounts and she was not allowed to have any money. Anything she needed or wanted she had to ask for.

She was not allowed to drive or get a license. Her husband hid the car keys from her. He made her take the bus to our office but he was timing her and told her she needed to be back by a certain time. That is why she kept nervously looking around because she thought he was going to come after her.

She was not allowed to make any phone calls –he would track all calls being made from their phone.

She was not allowed to have any people over and the husband would periodically come home during the day to check up on her.

Basically, she was his prisoner –she cooked and cleaned for him and satisfied his physical desires and that is all she was allowed to do.

Nevertheless, for some reason, which I could not understand, she loved him and wanted to stay with him. Tears were just pouring down her face as she talked about him, tears that were as much about hurt and fear as much as love and devotion. The only reason she could tell me he wanted to leave her was, “He want new wife.” Without her actually saying so, I rather got the impression she felt she had two choices; stay with her husband or go back to Korea. She either did not have the means to return to Korea or she really just wanted to stay with her husband –maybe even that life was better than the one she previously had.

Now granted, I understand there are two sides to every story and what she was telling me may or may not have been the truth, or the whole truth but I knew her tears were genuine and more importantly, her fear was genuine. She really was afraid her husband was going to hurt her.

I knew this woman needed some help but I was not sure what to do for her . . .so I went to see my OIC. I explained the situation.

“Sergeant Dodge, you know if I am representing the husband I cannot talk to the wife. I just cannot and you should not be talking to her either. Give her a referral to The Hill and that’s all we can do –but if she thinks she’s in danger tell her to call 911.”

I went back out and tried to explain to the woman she needed to seek legal counsel at another office. The bus did not run to The Hill and she had no transportation to get there. She kept telling me, “If I don’t bring home signed papers my husband he beat me.” I went back to my OIC.

“Sir, I understand the conflict of interest but this woman needs help and we can’t just turn her away. Please, Sir, please talk to her or make some phone calls for her or something. What if she is right? What if she goes home without signing these papers and he hurts her? What if something bad happens to her?”

My OIC was insistent on doing nothing, claiming his hands were tied.

I went back out and told the woman to take the unsigned papers home and tell her husband JAG would not notarized them for her and if he had any questions he should come see his attorney or me. She kept saying repeatedly, “Husband will beat me.” Back to my OIC I went.

“Sir, he’s your client. Can’t you call him? Can’t you tell him his wife is not to sign any papers without legal representation? Can’t you do something?” He virtually wants to make her homeless. He wants her to leave with no job, no money --. Sir, how can we in good conscience let that happen? How can we allow her to sign these papers or how can we allow her to go home knowing she’s being threatened.”

“Well, he can’t threaten her like that so she just needs to tell him so and besides, we don’t know that he really did –that’s what she told you and Sergeant, I already told you I cannot discuss this case with you.”

“Its not about just a case Sir, it’s about a life. It is not right these soldiers can go over to Korea and get a wife that they treat like a disposable piece of property. She has legal rights and I think it is our job to protect them. Besides, hasn’t a crime been committed here? He communicated a threat.”

Finally my OIC relented, “Okay Sergeant Dodge, bring her in here. I will talk to her.”

The OIC said to her, “I am representing your husband so I cannot discuss the case with you nor can I give you legal advice, do you understand?”

“Yes.”

“But do you feel you are in danger . . . going to get hurt?”

“Yes.”

“Okay then, that’s all I need to know. You can step out now and Sergeant Dodge will be right with you.”

The woman went back out to my desk and my OIC said to me, “Call her husband’s 1SG and let him know what the situation is then notify the MP’s (military police).” As I was leaving his office I thought to myself, “Geesh! Was that so difficult to do?”

With great satisfaction, I went back out to my desk, looked up the Soldier’s unit, and called his 1SG. After I explained the situation, 1SG was yelling, “WHAT? THAT DIRT-BAG SON-OF-A *****! NO SOLDIER OF MINE IS GOING TO BE A WIFE BEATER. THIS ARMY AINT’ BIG ENOUGH FOR HIM AND I AND TRUST ME, I’VE BEEN AROUND A LOT LONGER THAN HIM. I’LL KICK HIS WIFE BEATING ASS FROM HERE TO . . “

I interrupted, “Well 1SG, I’m not saying he did beat her and I’m only conveying to you what his wife told us but I’m really just calling to let you know I am going to call the MP’s. They will conduct their own investigation, I’m sure.”

“I DON’T GIVE A RAT’S ASS ABOUT NO **** MP’S . . I AINT’ GONNA HAVE NO DIRT-BAG WIFE BEATING SOLDIER IN MY UNIT! Thank you Sergeant, for calling. Please inform Mrs. So-in-so I’m sending my driver over to pick her up and take her home and you let her know Soldiers aren’t in the business of beating wives, not real Soldiers.”

After I hung up with the 1SG, I called the MP’s. They said they would send someone right over to our office to get a statement from the wife. I told them the 1SG was sending a driver to pick the wife up and they told me to keep her here until they got here. I then called the 1SG back and told him not to send the driver and he said he himself would be right over.

In the meantime, I guess the soldier was getting anxious for his wife to return with the signed papers and being it was taking much longer than he thought it should have, he came looking for her. I am sitting at my desk and in he struts, sees his wife at my desk and comes on over asking if the papers were signed yet. I told him no and he wanted to know what the hold up was. I said to him, “I’m not at liberty to say but if you’d like to have a seat and wait, we’ll be right with you. Your 1SG and the MP’s are on their way over.” The soldier lost all color in his face and was pretending he had no idea why . . . .he nervously looks around and asked, “Is my attorney here? Can I see him?” I told I would find out. I went to my OIC and he said he didn’t want to talk to the guy because he was not a defense attorney so there was really nothing he could do –he said, “The MP’s and 1SG will handle it from here.”

It wasn’t long before the 1SG and MP’s and another Sergeant from the soldier’s unit showed up. I directed them to a conference room they could use.

It was several weeks later I was having a conversation with Crim Law about some cases and the Specialist said to me, “We’re prosecuting this one guy that used to leave his wife and kids home with nothing but a 30-pound bag of rice.” I smiled and said, “Oh really?”

Justice served.

The Korean Woman

Legal Assistance was constantly busy. We would close for lunch every day at noon and when we got back at 1pm, we would have a line waiting at the door. We took both scheduled appointments and walk-ins. The flow of people never stopped. The phone calls never stopped. It was crazy.

I was the NCOIC of Legal Assistance, which is not saying much since I was the only enlisted soldier that worked there. We had a civilian secretary and 3 or 4 attorneys. The work was very mundane and repetitive. I liked working with the soldiers more so than the civilians –it made me feel like I was still part of the Army because other than being in uniform, working in Legal Assistance at Ft. Riley felt a lot like a civilian job. I was very disconnected from the troops and I did not like that.

Well, I was disconnected from military things in part because of my work at JAG but other reasons too, which I will tell you about later. Today I promised to tell you about one of our military spouses that came in.

I was a notary and so much of what I did all day long (ALL! DAY! LONG!) was notarize documents. That was boring. I did not much like the Legal Separations because rarely did someone come in and just say, “I’d like a legal separation from my spouse.” End of story –no, they had to tell you why and what happened and what a lousy worthless person their spouse was. I did not mind them needing to chat and vent but after a while, all the stories sounded the same and they always wanted you to be on their side, agree with them. It was almost as if they wanted you to validate their decision. I was not allowed to dispense legal advice nor was I able to express my personal opinions so sometimes it just was hard to deal with.

I will never forget the Korean woman that came in. She was very shy and timid, spoke very quietly and acted a bit paranoid. I noticed her odd behavior right away. It was so odd I wondered if perhaps she might have been on drugs. She seemed afraid to make eye contact and yet, her eyes would dart around the room suspiciously looking at people. She was very jumpy and as soon as someone would walk into our waiting room a panic look would come over her face.

Though our waiting room was divided from our work areas, there certainly was not any privacy. When someone came in either for a scheduled appointment or as a walk-in, they would sign in on a clipboard. The civilian secretary and I would call people up to our desk and determine what they needed. If there were there to see an attorney, we started a file on them (or if they had previously been in, we pulled their file). If it was a walk-in, we had to squeeze them in to see one of the attorneys between scheduled appointments.

When I called the Korean woman up immediately I could tell she was hoping for some privacy. She sat down in the chair next to my desk, and she kept looking behind her and over her shoulder as if she expected someone to come up from behind her. I sat down at my desk and asked how I could help her. She looked to her left, to her right and then behind her. She was nervously wringing her hands as she very slowly and deliberately leaned forward to whisper to me. I too leaned in a bit to get closer, she said to me in her very thick Korean accent, and broken English, “Husband leave me."  Then she handed me some papers which were all too familiar to me.  Her husband had been in and had a legal separation drawn up.  I knew right then her husband had been in our office for counsel so I should have sent her away but I already did that to one woman that was in need of help and I didn't want to do that again.   Besides, it wasn't like we were a legal practice --these were Army attorneys.  In Germany we also did legal separations for both spouses as long as each attorney didn't discuss the case, outside of the normal legal realm, it was fine.  I think my OIC's policy of not seeing both spouses in our office was unreasonable.  I really think it was more about cutting down the volume of work our office did.

She was difficult to understand both in terms of her accent and the fact that she kept whispering and looking around.  I finally was able to understand what was going on.  Her husband had legal separation papers drawn up with the intention of following through with a divorce.  The couple had children; at least one but I don't remember how many.  I read the papers and the husband was trying to get over and take advantage of the fact that his wife didn't understand English very well and didn't know her way around the Army and the US enough to have resources to help her.  The only reason she even came to JAG was because he told her to sign the paper work and it needed to be notarized.

The paperwork stated the wife was not seeking spousal support and did not want custody of the children.  It also stated the wife did not want any marital property, etc.  Basically, the husband wanted her to walk out of the marriage with the clothes on her back and without her children.  It was clear to me this is not what she wanted.  I explained what the papers said and tears were just flowing down her face.  She loved her husband and wanted to stay with him.  I gave her a quick summary of the legal separation and asked, "Is that what you want?"  She shook her head no.  I told her not to sign the papers.  But you know, I knew I was treading on thin ice here --I mean the last time I advised someone not to sign papers that didn't work out well for him --poor soldier.  I'm not legally allowed to give advice and our office was not supposed to be talking to this woman.  I understood I was breaking all of the rules but I just couldn't send this woman away.

After I told her not to sign papers she looked like she wanted to tell me something but hesitated.   After a pause she told me her husband threatened her.  He told her if she didn't come home with the papers signed and notarized he was going to beat her.  She went on to describe to me the things he threatened to do to her if she did not sign the papers.

So now I'm defiantly not sending this woman away until I know she has help.  I'm sorry (stupid) solider but you can't threaten your wife into signing a legal separation she doesn't want AND you can't take her children away from her.  It really doesn't work that way.

Legal Assistance Ft. Riley Style

Besides the Sergeants at the in processing center, I didn't tell anyone at Ft. Riley that I was pregnant.  It was kind of awkward, you know just meeting people and what was I supposed to say, "Nice to meet you.  I'm Sergeant Dodge  . . . and I'm pregnant."  Besides, I was still coming to terms with the news myself.

I was getting settled into my new duty station and liking really nothing about it. I only had a few personal things with me as my shipment from Germany had not yet arrived.  I remember one Saturday afternoon I was so bored in my room so I went out to find something to do.  I ended up at the library but it was quite small and nothing of interest for me to check out.  There was some sort of TV room or --something so I sat in there for a while watching Saturday afternoon sports, this particular day it was woman's gymnastics.  I was so bored.

Legal Assistance was non-stop madness. The 1st Infantry Division was getting ready to deploy for REFORGER (Return of Forces to Germany).  It was a huge annual exercise the Army conducted in well uh, in Germany.  When I was at 1st AD our Division also participated in REFORGER but I was never involved in any of that, I stayed behind at headquarters.

So before a soldier can deploy all of his/her personal business has to be in order.  Soldiers are required to have a Last Will and Testament and any applicable Power of Attorney, leaving legal authority for someone to conduct your stateside business in your absence.  This could cover but not be limited to; registering your vehicles, banking, signing leases, etc.  If you were dual military parents (both Mom and Dad in military) or a single military parent you also had to arrange for care for your children and have medical power of attorney for their care, etc.  Besides the obvious military preparations that were required for such a major deployments, every soldier had to get their personal business in order too.

Enter Legal Assistance.  That's what we were there for --assist the soldiers.  Many of them would make an appointment and come into the office but often times we, a JAG attorney and myself, would go to the units and set up shop for an hour or two.  JAG was also required to be at each deployment site for any last minute legal matters that came up.  Most of these deployments were 2 or 3am so I'd have to be up and in uniform and literally have a field table and manual typewriter set up right at the deployment site.  Luckily for me, this duty was shared through out the entire division JAG offices (the battalions and brigades) so I wasn't required to be at all of them.  Doing one of them was quite enough, if you ask me.

What I liked about Legal Assistance is that you really were helping soldiers.  Though I wasn't allowed to give any legal advice, I often would ask a soldier to reconsider a choice he made.  For instance, some soldiers would name a person as executor of their will or beneficiary of their insurance and when I'd ask the relation to them a solider would say, "That's my girl friend."  Red flag.  "Soldier, how long have you been dating this girl?"  You would be surprised to know that more often times than not, the relationship had been very short term.  In one instance, a soldier told me he just met the girl the weekend before and when I urged him to reconsider he said, "But you don't understand, I'm going to marry her when I get back."  My boss, the OIC (Officer in Charge) of Legal Assistance didn't necessarily like me trying to advise the soldiers and not necessarily for any legal reason but for time sake because we could literally have 100 or more soldiers waiting to be seen.  Sometimes if the line wasn't moving very fast my OIC would say to me, "Sergeant, less advising, more typing."  But when I thought a young soldier was making a poor choice, I couldn't just let that go.  I'd ask the soldier, "Are your parents alive?  Siblings?"

More so that the Will, the real killer was the General Power of Attorney.  I saw time and time again where a soldier gave his pretty little girlfriend of two weeks a General Power of Attorney and by the time that soldier got back on US soil his bank account was depleted, credit cards maxed out, bills unpaid, cars repossessed, etc.  It was shameful how these soldiers would deploy in service to their country and these girls would just totally wipe them out.  I'm certain too that the girls knew exactly what they were doing --they knew how to hook them a solider and they knew the ropes.  Once I saw that happening quite frequently, I was more apt to speak up and try to get a soldier to change his mind.  In the long run, it was the soldier's decision to make and even in some regards, the parents were the ones taking advantage of their deployed sons so you know, you just had to ask a lot of questions and try to lead the soldier in the right direction.

One time this really young soldier came in.  He couldn't have yet been 19.  So he comes in and needs a power of attorney but yet he doesn't want one.  He had seen some of his buddies get screwed over.  So he comes in and said his First Sergeant sent him to JAG and told him he had no choice but to get a POA.  Right away something didn't seem right so I started asking a lot of questions.  He didn't have any family members.  He had been raised in and tossed about in the foster care system his entire childhood and had no real family of his own to claim.  He was giving full POA to his girlfriend but I could tell he was very uncomfortable with it.  So I advised him, which was legally true, that he did not have to have a POA at all and I told him his First Sergeant couldn't make him do it.  I said, "If you aren't comfortable signing this document you don't have to do that."  He seemed so relieved when he heard that so then he went back to his unit and told his 1SG the JAG Sergeant said he didn't have to have a POA.  It was no time at all before I got a phone call and this 1SG was SCREAMING at me, "WHO DO YOU THINK YOU ARE TELLING MY SOLDIER WHAT HE DOES OR DOES NOT NEED?  I WON'T HAVE SOME SNOT NOSED SERGEANT E5 TELLING MY SOLDIERS WHAT THEY DO OR DO NOT NEED.  I'M SENDING THAT SOLDIER BACK DOWN TO JAG AND IF YOU KNOW WHAT'S GOOD FOR YOU, MY SOLDIER WILL COME BACK WITH A POA.  DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME, SERGEANT E5?"    A short while later this poor soldier comes back in looking like a whipped puppy dog with his tail between his legs.  He came in and said, "1SG sent me back."  I felt so bad for him.  I guess he got chewed out pretty badly and it was all my fault.  So I typed his POA up and got him all "squared away".  I thought about him for a long time after that.

That was the soldier side of Legal Assistance.  We also had a civilian side and that was 90% domestic matters, mostly doing a Legal Separation for soldiers.  Legally, it was a complete divide of marital property, spousal support, child custody, etc only the marriage was still legally in tact.  Because of a conflict of interest, we could only represent one spouse and the other spouse had to seek legal counsel from another Legal Assistance office that we called "The Hill" because the office was situated at the top of a hill.  So our office would represent the first one that came in.  One time a wife came in and she told me she wanted a legal separation.  When I looked in our files I saw that her husband had already been in our office for counsel so I tried to explain to her we could not help her but that she could go to another attorney.  She was a Hispanic woman that spoke very little English so she really wasn't understanding what I was trying to tell her.  She thought I was telling her she couldn't get a Legal Separation and then she started crying and begging me to help her.  She kept saying, "But he cheating on me, he cheating!"  I tried to calm her down and explain to her she just needed to go to another office.  She's crying and all hysterical and reaches into her purse.  I had a moment of panic as I wasn't sure what exactly she was going for --she pulls out this huge stack of pictures, throws them onto my desk and yells, alternating speaking in Spanish and English, "LOOK!  I TELL YOU --HE CHEATER.  HE CHEATING!"  I pick up the pile of pictures and I quickly slammed them down onto my desk and grabbed and envelope and started stuffing them into it.  "Ma'me, you shouldn't be showing these to people.  Where did you get these?"  Through her broken English I was finally able to understand she found them under her mattress.  She went to change the bed sheets and found these pictures stuffed in between the mattress and box spring.  She absolutely refused to leave and took the pictures back out of the envelope and was shoving them in my face and saying, "LOOK WHAT HE DO TO ME.  LOOK!  WE HAVE FAMILY!  WE HAVE KIDS!"

The stack of pictures were of her husband having sex with other women . . . very pornographic horrible pictures.  She refused to leave and she kept waving these pictures around so I went to my OIC and tried to get him to come out and help me.  He refused.  As soon as I told him he was representing the husband he said, "Sergeant, you know I can't go out there and talk to her and you've already told me too much.  There's nothing we can do.  If she doesn't understand English we can't help her.  You need to get her to leave.  Give her the referral to The Hill.  That's all we can do."

I was infuriated!  I felt so helpless.  I finally got her to leave but I don't think she really ever understood what I was trying to tell her.  She took the referral paper with her, hopefully she got legal help.

There was another woman that came in for help that I'll never forget.  She was Korean and also spoke broken English and also was seeking a legal separation from her soldier husband.  I'll never forget her.

You'll meet her tomorrow.

Dear Jerry

If you notice when my Mom was talking to me she had to stop and ask me for words.  I noticed she did this a few times while I was in Florida visiting her but I easily dismissed it like those moments when you have a word on the tip of your tongue and you just can't find it.  We all have those moments.

When I was talking to her on the phone, well that did not stick out to me either since the situation was very emotional and stressful and she was talking much faster than her brain probably could think.  So though I was aware of what was happening, I had no reason to believe it was anything but ordinary.

What I did not know at the time is that my mother had been experiencing some headaches and often found herself not able to find a certain word.  She had been sharing these things with my older sister, Val and though there was some cause to be concerned, no one really was alarmed.  Even so, my Mom was going to the doctor and trying to figure out the source of the problem.

With my most recent news, which quickly spread though the family like wildfire, Mom's problem was over shadowed for a little while with all the focus and attention on me --

It wasn't the kind of spotlight I really wanted.  But there I was in the spotlight and every single family member had their own opinion and unfortunately, every single family member felt the need to express their opinion to me.  There were too many voices coming from too many different directions and I was tying to hear them all, please them all.  In fairness to them and the privacy of our family, I'm not going to expound much on that but I will say, it was a difficult time for me to filter through all of that.

Remember my family had no idea I was even dating anyone and I was intentionally vague and misleading in that regard.  In addition to the pregnancy news, they were also digesting the fact that this man, this unknown person was black.  I didn't grow up in a very culturally diverse community so we were all treading on unfamiliar territory.  For all of the things I regret the most, I regret how all of this just dropped onto my family's lap.  My mother was the only family member I personally delivered the news to.

What kept nagging at my heart the most is that I had no way of contacting Newsome.  Shortly after I left Germany he moved out of his apartment and back into the barracks, a money saving effort.  So like myself, he was without a phone or means to make a long distance call -- and if you think a state-to-state long distance call was expensive, calling overseas was practically unaffordable.  Even if it was possible for me to use the call center, there was the time difference to contend with, the gamble that Newsome would even be home at the time of the call, and the amount of time it took the CQ runner to get the call, walk through the barracks to Newsome's room then Newsome get to the desk to take the call.  I could be 10 minutes into the call before I even got to talk to Newsome.  A call could easily cost me $100 without ever talking to him and it could take several attempts before I successfully reached him.

I finally got through in processing and was assigned to Headquarters Company, 1st Infantry Division.  Since I was an NCO, I got my own private room in the barracks.  That was nice but it wasn't exactly home sweet home.  The showers were an improvement from the big shower room with no private stalls in the barracks in Germany but let's face it, this was still barracks living;  privacy was minimal and it was a bustle of noise and constant activity.  I had a very small room with one twin bed and a wall locker.  That was it.  The walls were cinder block, cold tile floors --kind of like living in a cell without bars.

I was assigned to Division JAG and much to my disappointment, I ended up in Legal Assistance.  Though working Legal Assistance in the states was much different from overseas, I still didn't like it.  My sickness only got worse.  I was throwing up all of the time, unable to eat and only able to barely take sips of water here and there.  I had about 4 hours in the afternoon where I felt good but other than that, I was sick all of the time.  That certainly didn't help matters both in terms of feeling well and having clarity of mind.

In all of this that was going on, I still had to come to terms that I was having a baby.  I was at a new duty station, living in the barracks, dealing with my family, feeling sick, unable to eat, transitioning to a new job but most of all, worried about how I was going to reach Newsome.

Having ruled out the possibility of a phone call and a face-to-face meeting not possible either, I decided the only way to communicate the news was . . .  a letter.

So one night while alone in my barracks room, I wrote a letter.

Dear Jerry,

It's Getting Hard

I am probably going to take this post down in a few days.  Today's real post is below.

I did not realize how emotional and difficult this point of the story would be, both in terms of what was going on and in terms of what is to come.  It's so hard and I feel so exposed.  And now I feel ever more exposed for saying, "I feel so exposed."  Its ripping my heart open, very uncomfortable.

I might lighten things up with some humorous Basic Training flashback stories to give myself some time --or I might just push through for continuity sake.

I don't know yet.

M

Alone Again

So you see, back in the day long distance calling was very expensive.  You were charged rates per minute based on where the call was placed from and where to.  The Army didn't allow soldiers to use phones for personal use.  Can you imagine that phone bill?  Every single soldier is away from home --all those long distance calls.

In order to call home you had to have your own phone.  In order to have your own phone you had to have your own place to live.  Soldiers that lived in the barracks had no such luxury.  And so, enter in Ma-Bell, Mrs. AT & T herself.

On most military installations they had call centers set up by phone companies where soldiers could go to make phone calls.  The one on Ft. Riley was operated by AT & T.  There would be a number of booths or private rooms with a phone in it, maybe a small desk or just a chair.  You would go to the front desk and fill out a form of where you were calling.  They'd calculate your rates then you would pay up front for the number of minutes you wanted.  It was like using a phone phone, essentially, without having to feed a phone quarters.  You'd pay for your call then get assigned to a booth/room then go wait for your call.  The front desk operator would dial for you then you'd pick up and receive your call.  Just before your time was up you'd hear a warning and then when time was up the call would just cut off.

It was actually a horrible set up because the calls were so expensive you could only afford maybe 5-10 minutes per call but that was never long enough to say all you needed to say and then just ---dead silence.  Mid-sentence your call was cut off and that was that.  As I sit here writing this tears are just flowing down my face as I recall the horrible sinking feeling that always left me.  I'd walk out of the room with my face looking like it must look right now --all wet, red and swollen from crying.

And so it was with an overload of various emotions that I took myself to the call center one evening and decided to place a call to Bradenton, Florida.  I needed to talk to my Mom.

Mom was very happy to hear from me and had a thousand questions about Ft. Riley and how things were going. . . ."No Mom, I'm not at my new unit yet . . . yes, the drive was fine . . . no, I didn't have any problems getting here . . . .no, I don't have my address yet, I will once I get my assignment . . . its okay, I think it's just going to be a lot different from Germany . . . Mom?"  I can barely talk now, breathless and on the verge of tears. . . "Mom?  Yeah, I'm okay but Mom . . . I'm . . I'm pregnant."

I'm not sure if it was because earlier in the conversation I told her we only had a few minutes to talk or because she was over taken with emotions --probably a combination of the two but my Mom just started talking really really fast --I mean like, put the tape on fast forward kind of fast.  It wasn't funny then but recalling it now, it's makes me chuckle.

I couldn't really pin Mom's reaction or feelings because they were just all over the place.  She wasn't angry but she was definitely stern but not even in a bad way --just a motherly way, kind of a taking charge kind of way.  That was rare for my Mom, she mostly was not a dominate or disciplinarian type parent.  Mom's reaction reminds me of one of those sprinklers that sputter water around in a circle.

And sputtering she was.

You're pregnant ?  Oh Melissa!  Oh Melissa!  What are yo going to do?  What is the Army going to do?  Can you stay in the Army?  Who is this guy?  Huh?  Who is he?  Does he know, did you tell him?  Is he going to marry you?  Is he?  What's going to happen?  He's not going to marry you, is he?  He's not.  Oh Melissa.  You keep the baby.  Don't you go off and do that --what is that?  What is that?  Its that . . what girls do . . .oh, I can't think of the word.  You know, right?  When girls don't want their babies . . 

Abortion, Mom?  You mean an abortion?


Yes!  That's the word, I couldn't think of the word.  Don't you dare do that, Melissa.  Don't you dare think about that.

Mom, I'm not going to have an abortion.  I'm not even considering that Mom . . .


I just don't want you to be scared and do something stupid.  I just don't want you to think you have to do that.  I don't know what you're going to do--I just don't know but you're pregnant now and that's a baby!  That's a baby, Melissa and you need to call him, you need to call that guy . . what is his name?  See, we don't even KNOW him, Melissa.  You see that.  We don't know anything about him and you won't tell us because you know he's black, isn't he?  Are you dating a black man?

Uh . . . .yeah but how did you know that?


I'm you're mother.  I tell you this all of the time.  I know things.  I can tell things.  I just know and God he reveals things to me, I ask him to--to tell me things I need to know about my girls and I know---Melissa, why do you think that matters, huh?  That doesn't matter, why didn't you tell me?  You should have told me.  Do you think I care?  Do you think I care about a black man? 

Mom, his name is Jerry and our time is almost up.  The call is going to get cut off.

I don't know what you're going to do Melissa but you pray, you ask God to give yo direction.  You go back to your ---your ---what's that Army thing called?  You know, where soldiers live?

Barracks?


Yes, you go back to your barracks and you pray.  You ask God what you should do and he will tell you.  You promise me, you promise me that you won't do anything stupid and you promise me that you will pray, you do that, Melissa.  I will pray to, I pray for you all of the time.  Oh Melissa, just pray and ask God.  Call me when you can.  Call me again.  Call Jerry.

With tears running down my face, I listened to my Mom.  I noticed she never really scolded me.  The tone in her voice sort of did but she never condemned me.  I promised her I was okay and that I'd be fine.

And then like always, mid-sentence our call cut off and I immediately realized how alone I was in that moment.  No one to talk to, no one I knew --and I had to go back and spend another night in the holding barracks.

Across the world, thousands of miles away was a soldier, a soldier that I loved and missed, a soldier that had no idea he was going to be a father.

Big Girls Don't Cry

After NCOIC left and closed the door behind him, it was just Female Sergeant and myself in the office.  I wasn't getting any warm and fuzzy vibes from her so I was trying to brace myself.  Then again, anything she had to do or say certainly couldn't top SGM so . . . .

Female Sergeant went on to scold me about . . . crying.  She said a female NCO should NEVER cry in front of male soldiers or really, in front of any soldiers.  She said it shows weakness and vulnerability and if women every wanted to be treated fair and equal in the Army women are going to have to start acting like they deserve fair and equal treatment.  She went on to tell me I was a disgrace to my rank, to female soldiers and to the Army  . . .because I cried.  She went on and on scolding me.  I just stood there listening.  When she was done I left.  She was mighty proud of herself, I could tell, that she was, which she seemed to think, single hand-idly forging the the way for female soldiers in the Army.

As I walked out of the office I remember feeling very sorry for her --very sorry that she felt like in order to be treated fairly she needed to act like a man and hide her feelings.  No, I did not tell her that in fact, I didn't say anything to her.

I was so worn out--physically I was still weak but emotionally?  Are you kidding me?  I mean, just hours ago I was told I was going to have a baby --and then the whole business with SGM and this female soldier and that idiot NCOIC that asked if I was suicidal . . . . .

And thus began my tour of duty at the First Infantry Division, Ft. Riley, Kansas.

I had a feeling Kansas and I weren't exactly going to be good friends.

Female Soldier Business

I felt I had no choice but to tell them what was going on.  And so when asked what was wrong . . .

Me:  I'm pregnant.

NCOIC and Sergeant - shocked looks on faces

NCOIC - Oh, so  . . . . *stutters*  well then, is this good news, I mean --er, um --you know, are you okay?

I was very uncomfortable with his line of questioning --NONE of this was any of his business.  I hated this. 

Me:  I'm fine --I was just a bit dehydrated.

NCOIC - So then . . .uh  ---- is there anyone you want us to call for you?

WHAT A STUPID IDIOTIC QUESTION!  Sure, here's a list of my closest family members --if you can just call them and tell them the news, that would be great!  The NCOIC was obviously fumbling for words and had no clue what to do or say.

Me:  Uh no, that's okay --I can handle this on my own.

Ready for question number two?

NCOIC - So are you okay then?  I mean like --you know --- are you like . . . you know, suicidal or anything?

Even the female Sergeant realizes what an idiot this NCOIC is so she interrupts and says --

Sergeant:  What Seargeant so-in-so means is, is this news upsetting to you?  Do you need to speak to a chaplain or anyone?  Is there anything we can do for you?

I'm very offended everyone is jumping to the conclusion that I was upset.  I wasn't acting upset.  I wasn't crying.  I wasn't freaking out.  I was annoyed with everyone but certainly not anywhere NEAR suicidal ---what a stupid question!!!  I guess they were assuming because I was not married this would be upsetting to me.  I can honestly say I have no idea what I felt in regards to a baby.  I mean, I'm pretty certain at this point none of that really sunk in with me.  I was just there.  Just there --alone.  The only thing really going through my mind was how on earth I was going to get in touch with Newsome.

After assuring this idiot NCOIC I was fine, I was getting ready to leave and the Sergeant said, "Sergeant so-in-so, would you please step out for a few minutes?  I want to talk to Sergeant Dodge alone, one female Sergeant to another."

He was smart enough to catch that clue and he flew out the door.  He already clearly demonstrated how ill equipped he was to handle delicate matters and there's just a part of me that doesn't blame him for that.  He was a soldier, not a pregnancy counselor.  Even so, he still behaved pretty badly but you know, I get it that he just wasn't expecting what he heard.

I'm in office with this Sergeant and I already don't like her.  I mean, for the most part she really did stick up for me and was on my side but she was anything but warm and inviting.  She stated things in a very matter-of-fact manner.  She was almost robotic which came off cold and uncaring --at least to me it did.

There! I told you I wasn't lying!

It wasn't as if what was really going on with me physically didn't cross my mind but I was in major denial mode so I didn't give it a lot of thought.  I wasn't worried about my physical state as much as I just had an intense feeling of aloneness.  I was so new to this place and so far, nothing was going right.  I hated Ft. Riley and it was making me hate the Army too.

Not long after I arrived the ER it was discovered I was badly dehydrated and that didn't surprise me at all considering I couldn't even remember the last time I had food or drink.  They immediately started an IV drip to get me loaded back up with fluids.  Like I stated in an early post, as soon as they heard I had recently returned from overseas they honed in on that, asking me numerous questions in regards to foods, farms, animals, plants, etc.

"No, I have not been on any farms.  No, I have not been to a petting zoo.  I only ate the food that was served on the plane and no, I did not bring any produce or plants into the country with me.  No, I did not drink from any drinking fountains. No, I was not around someone that could possibly have been on a farm.  No, I did not leave the airport when I had a lay over. . . . "  TOO MANY QUESTIONS!!!

After a quick exam the doctor said they were going to run some tests and they'd be back and I should rest.  And rest I did.  I immediately fell asleep which I must have really been tired because I remember the room being extremely cold and thinking I'd never be able to rest in such a refrigerator.

zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

What seemed like the longest nap of my life but was probably only minutes, the doctor and nurse came back in.  At first I was groggy from my sleep but then I was fully alert to hear the news . . .

That Staff Sergeant Jerry Newsome and I were going to become parents.  A baby.  I was pregnant.

I was a little numb to the news at first, maybe scared and uncertain.  I had no earthly idea what was next --who to tell, who to call . . . it wasn't as if I could pick up a cell phone and reach anyone.  In fact, it wasn't as if I could pick up any phone.  I had no phone.  I had no means to call because on the Army phones we weren't allowed to call long distance and I certainly could not make an overseas call to Newsome.

The doctor told me I needed to finish the bag of IV fluid so they were going to keep me a little longer.  He also gave me a referral to follow up in the OB clinic.  After that the doctor and nurse left and there again, I sat all alone.  When the ER released me, someone from the reception station came to get me and took me back to that NCOIC's office.  The SGM was gone, thankfully, but the other female Sergeant was there.  They both stood there, skeptical looks on their faces as they asked me what the doctors said.

And I didn't want to tell them.  This was my news and I didn't want these strangers to be the first people I told.  It was none of their business.  I kept thinking to myself, "This isn't fair, this isn't how this is supposed to be."  On the other hand, if I didn't give them something I might have been in trouble with SGM.  As it was, they only half believed I really was sick.  For that reason I wanted to tell them.  I wanted to stick it to them like, "There!  I told you I wasn't lying."

ER

SGM was screaming leaving the NCOIC and Sergeant in the room confused. Everyone was just trying to figure out what was going on and me? I was trying to prevent myself from passing out. Everything I did or said only made SGM angrier so I was afraid to move or speak. SGM was making accusations that I was pretending to be sick because I knew I was in big trouble. Preposterous! I still had no idea what offense I had committed but other than that, I truly was ill and the more I tried to explain that to this idiot, the crazier he got.

By now it was as if everyone in the room was unaware of my existence. The Sergeants were trying to understand what was going on and SGM was just yelling and spitting about my blatant disregard for his rank and blah, blah, blah . . .

I was unable to stand anymore so I walked over to a couch in the office and sat down. The talking in the room seemed mumbled to me. I was crying because well, crying is usually the outward expression of most any emotion I have but I remember just feeling so alone at that moment --no one really cared about me and no one on that entire military post even knew me. Well, except for Chief but even then, its not like Chief and I were good friends. SGM was even more upset that I sat down and though he was almost to the point of calming down now, he still kept on and on about how I was disobeying his commands and faking illness.

The NCOIC asked me what was wrong and I told him I didn't know but I had been sick for a few days. Then NCOIC started scolding me and telling me if I had really been sick I would have gone to the doctor. Though I didn't explain it to them, the reason I had not yet been to the doctor is that I was waiting until I was assigned to my unit. Being in a holding barracks is horrible, a place that's no fun to stay and going on sick call can only prolong your stay there. I didn't want to risk losing my assignment at the headquarters JAG and I didn't want to stay in the holding barracks one day longer than need be. So my grand plan was to wait until I got to my unit then go see the doctor.

The NCOIC was on the fence about my whole illness thing -- I think he wanted to believe me but he had SGM breathing fire down his neck. He was in a tough position. But the female Sergeant in the room seemed to be on my side and spoke up saying, "I think SGT Dodge really is sick."  NCOIC decided if I really was that sick I should be taken by ambulance to the ER--but in saying so, I think he thought he was going to call my bluff.

But as my head was spinning and sounds were muffled and unclear, I nodded my head in agreement; it indeed was time for me to get to a doctor.  There was a few seconds of silence in the room as if everyone tried to figure out what was next.   Still thinking I might be faking it, NCOIC said to me, "Do you need an ambulance?"  Once I again, I just nodded my head then laid down on the couch.  I couldn't even sit up any longer.  Now I think I had SGM a little scared because he suddenly got very quiet.  There was some discussion between SGM and NCOIC that if I was really sick he'd be willing to drop the whole matter but if I wasn't sick, he wanted to see judicial punishment brought against me.  Then SGM left.  I'm kind of unclear of everthing that happened after I laid down on the couch because I was so out of it.

Next thing I know I was put onto a stretcher and taken to the post hospital.  Before I left the NCOIC said to me, "For your sake, I hope you really are sick."  The medics had called ahead to the hospital so they were expecting me --and they weren't very busy at all so I got a lot of attention from a lot of people.  They were probably bored, glad to have someone there.

Berserk!

By now I am fully alert and aware of what is going on. My feet were firmly planted on the ground and I was sitting up soldier-straight! I thought that would be the end of it but SGM was not done showing off and I guess I did not properly stroke his rank and ego so now I was going to pay the price.

Yelling as if I had just committed a 1st degree premeditated murder, SGM yells for me to get up. I am a little confused because I was thinking, “Get up for what?” More importantly than that, I knew if I made any quick moves I was going to be down for the count. I also realized that like it or not, I was going to have to play SGM’s game and so I tried to change my demeanor and attitude and I said, “Yes, Sergeant Major” and went to stand up but keep in mind, I was moving slow.

Instead of SGM being a good leader and caring more about the health and welfare of the troops than the weight on his collar, SGM kept yelling and screaming because I was not moving fast enough. And instead of asking me if I was okay, he just assumed this was blatant disregard for his rank and position. Then I just could not believe the next thing I heard –I mean, I was hearing a lot of things, mostly just screaming . . . and then I heard . . .

“SERGEANT! GET AT THE POSITION OF ATTENTION!”

He put me at attention!

Maybe you don’t understand the military much but there was just so many things wrong with this.

First of all, putting someone at the position of attention is like a last resort type action. Remember now, this all took place in a matter of seconds. It wasn’t like this had gone on and on and I was refusing to obey. SGM was way over reacting. This did not even fit the situation.

Secondly, SGM was dead wrong because as a leader it was his responsibility to get all the facts and not jump to conclusions. He had a sick soldier on his hands and did not know or care.

Thirdly, this was not an appropriate action to take in public and with civilians and lower enlisted around. A better way to explain this is when your child is misbehaving in the store and his behavior warrants a spanking or discipline, you usually take them to the bathroom, the car, etc. and handle it in private. I mean, even in our home we usually took our children into another room to administer discipline. In the same manner, the right thing for SGM to have done was to have taken me to a private office before putting me at attention.

And lastly, you just don’t treat NCO’s (Non-commissioned Officer, ranks E5-E9) like this especially in front of the lower enlisted, of which there were many around. I was a Sergeant (E5). Just as SGM felt like his rank warranted more respect well, so did mine regardless to the fact that he out ranked me. A better way to explain this is if you were at a party and your child did something wrong you could correct them on the spot –I don’t mean spank or discipline but I mean tell them not to do that. Because you are the person in authority, that is proper. On the other hand, if your spouse did something wrong you wouldn’t call them out on it right then, you’d probably wait until the car ride home or at a later more private and appropriate time.

I stood at attention and let me tell you, by far this was the most humiliating experience of my lifetime –even worse than the showers at PLDC. This was horrible. SGM was berating me. Everyone in the entire place was uncomfortable; you could just feel it. Even with SGM’s screams, the silence in the room was deafening.

SGM didn’t even work in this office. He was there to conduct some type of personal business when he walked in and saw me. So its not even like he was in charge of the place.

Finally and much to my relief, the NCOIC of the office came out. He heard all the screaming and commotion and came out to see what was going on. At first SGM just ignored him and yelled at him to stay out of it but then the NCOIC convinced the SGM we could continue this in his office. So the three of us set off to the NCOIC’s office and as I was walking through the waiting area, everyone was looking down and pretending they weren’t looking at me or listening. The whole while we were walking SGM was still yelling but I have no idea what he was saying. He had long ago lost my listening ears –I just heard noise.

I was finally able to speak for myself. Up until this point, I was never asked what was wrong or asked to speak and after being put at attention, I was not allowed to speak. Oh, at this point they called this black female sergeant in because they wanted another female in the room since both the NCOIC and SGM were males. The female soldier said to me, “Sergeant, what’s going on?” And while I was trying to speak, SGM was yelling, “WHAT’S GOING ON IS THIS SOLDIER DOESN’T KNOW. . . blah blah blah….” The Sergeant looked at SGM then looked at me and repeated the question. I simply said, “I’m sick.” Just when I thought SGM couldn’t not have gotten any angrier, my response just made him go berserk.

The Infuriated SGM

I heard Sergeant Major (SGM) much sooner than I actually saw him but I was not paying much attention –it was just noise in the background to me. I was mostly concentrating on keeping very quiet and still so I would not pass out. Before I knew it SGM was standing right in front of me yelling, “Sergeant!” Though I was not asleep, it did take me a few seconds to clear my mind and focus on what was happening. At first I was not even certain he was talking to me until he was standing directly in front of me –yelling, screaming, spitting . . .

“IS THIS ANY WAY FOR AN NCO TO BEHAVE? SERGEANT! GET YOUR FEET OFF MY FURNITURE NOW!”

You notice he said, “my” furniture? That very much goes along with my description of his type –egotistical, self-centered, domineering . . .

He was upset I was slouched down on the couch and he was upset I had the nerve to sit with my boots on the furniture. By this time, he had caught the attention of every single person in this very large facility. Work stopped. Talking stopped. Typewriters stopped (yeah, we still had those). Even crying babies stopped crying. All you could hear was the TV, which was permanently tuned into CNN news, and SGM’s snorting, huffing and puffing. I was in no mood to play these Army games. I was in no mood to stroke SGM’s rank and puff up his ego even more. I was tired. I was sick and I felt he was making much too big a deal out of such a small thing –and there’s a way to approach people and talk to them –but SGM was more interested in impressing people with his rank and power than he was getting my boots off of THE couch. And maybe if you wanted to s-t-r-e-t-c-h it out just to give SGM the benefit of the doubt, maaaaybe, just maybe this would have been appropriate to a lower-enlisted but you certainly wouldn’t treat an NCO like this in public. Even if I had committed some grave Army offense, the proper protocol would have been to privately pull me aside and even then if he wanted to rip me up one side and down another, in a private office would have been appropriate –but that certainly is stretching the situation a bit too far because there was no real offense committed and SGM could have just walked by and said, “SGT you need to sit up and not put your boots on the furniture.” Better than that, he could have approached me and asked if I was okay.

But see, that’s not how it went down.

I look up at SGM and I give him a “you gotta be kidding me” type look and I remember thinking to myself, “He must have just gotten back from his promotion ceremony.” I mean, he certainly was creating a scene that was all about him, nothing about furniture and I was just an unfortunate victim. I did not immediately snap up in fact, I slowly slid my leg down and yes, taking my time with it certainly was intentional. I did not feel well and I did not like this type of leader –they do the Army more harm than good.

That did not get pass SGM and in fact, it infuriated him.

THE Sergeant Major

Let me describe the type –you can spot them a mile away –

What type is that? The newly promoted type. More specifically, the newly promoted type that wears their rank in their head and not on their collar.
I have seen this behavior even with the lowest ranking privates, of which there are three: Private E1, Private E2 and Private First Class. I have seen a PFC get a little beside himself trying to throw his collar weight around but you know, the ego was certainly bigger than the promotion.

Most anyone can ignore a PFC, even those E1 and E2 types, they just roll their eyes. It gets a little trickier when the newly promoted person actually has some rank to contend with. Now you are on a completely new playing field but the attitude and the arrogance are still the same.

The reason you can spot them a mile away is because they walk differently; their shoulders are thrown back and chest puffed out. No matter their height (but its certainly more effective the taller you are) they look down at people, literally. When they enter a room they like to pause, you know, waiting for everyone to turn and look at them and acknowledge their presence. These types misunderstand the purpose of a rank structure and though it is true that RHIP (Rank Has Its Privileges) they misconstrue its meaning and use their rank for person gain and personal glory and certainly at the cost of the lowliest ranks of the Army. Quite often, they consider themselves above the rules and regulations.

These types often talk loud, too loud for the environment because they like to be heard, they want to be heard and they think everything they have to say is important and that people are just hanging onto their every word. When they do not get their way they will angrily ask, “Do you know who I am?”

They are often clad in a brand new uniform because new rank needs a fresh new collar to lie upon. Its like putting old grungy furniture in a brand new house, it just does not go together. When you have a new rank to proudly display, you need a new uniform too. This stereotypical type can frequently be spotted by the newness of their duds; boots highly shined, uniform starched and pressed, brand new nametags, brand new badges, fresh military hair cut –brand spanking new everything. Even a soldier that formally was not always so spit shined will take on a completely new approach to wearing the uniform.

Most of these soldiers are like this because they probably waited a very long time for their rank. It can be argued, there was a reason they had to wait a very long time for their rank –they did not deserve it. A soldier can get stuck at one rank for years and years and though there are exceptions to my theory, for the most part they probably just need to be stuck at that rank for a long while. When they finally advance to the next rank, it is like they feel the need to make up for lost time or something.

Fortunately, for most, once the novelty of the new rank has worn off and their mouths start salivating for the next higher rank, they calm down. There are a few that just never learn how to behave and they leave a path of destruction wherever they go. Don’t misunderstand, I’m not talking about the tough type of soldier that just knows his/her job and expects everyone to know their job too. I’m not describing the Sergeant or Officer that runs a tight ship. I’m talking about the Sergeant or Officer that thinks they run a tight ship but in reality, they are so busy stroking their own rank they can’t get much else done.

And so here I am at Ft. Riley all slouched down on the couch and feeling like the slightest movement I will throw up or pass out and in walks this Sergeant Major.

And he was everything I described above . . . and more . . .

In Processing at Ft. Riley

There's a saying in the Army that the best unit is the one you just came from --or something like that.  As soon as I got to Ft. Riley I could tell we were not going to get along.  Maybe it was because I didn't feel well, maybe because I was missing Newsome --whatever it was, Ft. Riley didn't set well with me from the moment we met.

I signed into the Replacement Center, which is where new soldiers without a pinpoint assignment go.  Pinpoint meaning you have orders for a specific unit otherwise, you just get orders to a place like Ft. Riley.  So once you sign in there you get processed in and they find a place for you to go.  I don't remember much about the Replacement Center other than I hated it.  When I first signed in it was a weekend, I think, and there were a bunch of male soldiers hanging around, young whipper-snapper types, and I just remember being so annoyed by them --they were showing off but not speaking directly to me.  I remember thinking it felt like I had walked into junior high.  I was showed around a bit, to which I made it a point not to pay much attention because I didn't plan to be at the Replacement Center for long because Chief already had an assignment for me.  There was this huge day room and I don't know why that image is just stuck in my brain --it was a very large room with a huge TV (no, we didn't have flat screens back then), a couple of pool tables, vending machines, tables, chairs, couch . . . the TV was on but no one was in there.  I stood in the doorway looking around thinking, "What a waste."

I was none too happy I had to stay in this barracks that was just rows and rows of bunk beds.  I hated that too but since there were only a few of us in this very large room, at least I didn't get stuck on a top bunk.    Since I was a Sergeant I didn't have to do any barracks detail.  That's about the only good thing that came up.  Other than that, I was miserable.

Ft. Riley was just different.  It was huge and things were spread out so unlike in Germany where I could walk everywhere, you really needed to drive to get to and from just about anything.  At least I now had my car with me but that wasn't the point, it was just too over whelming.

I wasn't eating much because I had no appetite for food; the thought, sight and smell of it just made me sick.  I'd go to every meal in the dining facility with high hopes of eating but once I got there I'd just pick at my plate, take a few bites and that was it.  One female soldier commented once to me, "You sure don't eat much, do you?"  I managed to hid how ill I felt pretty well --I didn't want anyone to know because I didn't want any delays in getting out of the Reception Center.

I don't remember how long I was there --a week maybe?  Every single night I was there some soldier would come in drunk and flip on the big florescent overhead lights --every!  single! night!  That got old quick.  The weekends were the worst, drunk soldiers coming in all hours of the night loud and obnoxious.  I really wanted to leave this place if for no other reason that to get a good night's rest.

Every day we had to go to this in processing center ---there were offices there for just about everything.  So each day we'd go there and have to go to each office/station.  It was a long long wait ---hours and hours.  There was a waiting area that had a TV in it and this very ugly orange plastic furniture that had stepped right out of the 70's.  The people that worked there were crabby --it felt a lot like the DMV; long lines, workers that hated their job and were just fed up with the public, customers that were mad and fed up with the long lines, children crying because they've been sleep and meal deprived, parents letting their children run wild just to keep them happy and an air of boredom looming over the place.  It wasn't just for soldiers, civilians were there too.  This is where you'd go if you needed a new ID card or sign up for insurance (DEERS), get new Dog tags, etc. etc.  So it wasn't just for new soldiers.  Oh, this was also where you went to out process so there were soldiers coming and going.

I hated this place the most.  There were days I'd go there and sit on that orange furniture for the entire day without my name ever getting called.  It was just a huge waste of time.

One day I was feeling particularly bad.  I was weak from not eating and tired because I couldn't get any sleep in the barracks.  I felt like I was going to pass out and I was afraid if I did no one would ever notice.  I mean, I probably could sit there until cob webs formed around my body and people would just assume the wait there was really really long.  I sat on this wretched plastic couch on the end and kind of leaned over --not really laying down but just resting against whatever it was that was next to the couch, maybe a filing cabinet or something.  I was sitting with my one foot tucked under me, which is how I often sit due to the fact that my feet often don't reach the ground when I sit and so they are prone to fall asleep --so I alternate bending my legs up to prevent this from happening.  Its tough being short.

So this is how I was sitting and I wouldn't exactly say that it was cozy and comfortable but at least it dispelled the feeling to pass out.

And then just out of no where this Sergeant Major walks in and sees me . . . .

Back Up

Let's back up.

Though I was an E5 and had been in the Army for a few years, I never signed into a unit on my own before.  I had either been in training in environments or went to Germany as a Private E-nothing and got shuffled around like cattle.  I was really nervous because Sergeants were supposed to know this stuff --I made rank pretty quickly and I didn't necessarily have the experience to back it up.

A class-A uniform was required was signing into a new unit so when I was just outside of Ft. Riley I stopped at a gas station and changed into my uniform.

Well, let's back up to Germany.

While stationed in Ansbach we had a Warrant Officer in  JAG.  I don't remember his name but that's okay because I normally don't use names but we called him Chief --because he was a Chief Warrant Officer.  I liked Chief.  He was a quiet man, an older gentleman.  He kept to himself a lot but when he had something to say it was usually pretty important.  He was like a grandfather figure to me though I suspect he was much younger than I thought him to be.  He just had that old sage soul about him --like a Yoda of sorts.

More importantly than me liking Chief, he liked me.  He thought I was smart and Chief liked smart people.   I first gained his respect when I went to the Legal Assistance course in Germany (when I illegally drove on the autobahn) and got a 97% on my Record of Trial.  The ROT is the final of the course.  You watched a mock trial on video (actually, it probably was a real trial that had been taped) and you have to do absolutely everything for that trial; court orders, court reporting, transcribing, compiling evidence, etc.  I say "etc" because 20 some years later, I'm not exactly sure all we did.  They allowed you a full two days for the test.  The first day you watch the video and the second day you have to put it all together.  Wait, I think it was two days; Thursday and Friday but if you did not finish you went back on Saturday.  Once you are done the ROT is huge -- I'd say it was about 7-9 inches of stacked papers.

Anyway, I heard the ROT was tough and it was unheard of to get a 97% but that's what I got and it really impressed Chief and ever since then he liked me.  It was good to be liked by higher ranking people in the Army.

I think one of the reasons I did so well on the ROT is because I could type fast.  You have to remember it was pre computer days so unless you specifically wanted to go into secretarial work, you didn't need to type.  Guys especially did not type so the ones in my class struggled just to get everything typed out.  They lost a lot of points simply for not finishing the work because they typed too slow.  In fact, in order to pass the course we had to take a typing test and the minimum typing speed was 35 wpm.

And all of that has absolutely nothing to do with anything.  I just got carried away in my own memories.

Chief left Germany before me and headed off to Ft. Riley so as soon as I came down on orders for Ft. Riley I contacted Chief to let him know I was coming.  He was glad I was coming.  I was glad to have at least one familiar face.

After changing into my class A uniform I did not go directly to sign into my unit but I found the JAG office and headed off to see Chief.  He gave me a big warm smile when he saw me which was significant to me for two reasons -- Chief was a serious man that hardly ever smiled so it was a rare treat for me.  Secondly, I was so nervous and out of place, I needed that reassuring smile.  After chatting for a few minutes and Chief introducing me around, he told me to go report in, get all in processed and he'd see to it I got assigned to the headquarters at JAG.  You see, I could have been stuck out in any unit and having worked at the Division level in Germany, that certainly would have seemed like a step down for me.  I did not want to be out in a Battalion or Brigade as the JAG clerk.  It was nice having Chief on my side.

I was absolutely shaking with fear when I went to sign into my unit.  I had no idea what to expect and I had never done this before so . . I just felt stupid.  Sergeants aren't supposed to be stupid.

The News

I sat up straight and very alert trying to steel myself up for the news to follow.  I looked at the doctor and assured him I was listening and alert.

He looked at me and said ........







You're pregnant.