Miss B

At the risk of sounding redundant, the Smoking Room was very smoky.  Too smoky.  As a smoker, you really wouldn't have to lite up in that place.  I'm sure you'd get more than your fair share of second hand smoke if you just sat in there and took breaths.  I had to walk by this smoking area several times a day, basically any time I left my office and I remember when I'd get about 1/2 way down the hallway, I"d take a deep breath then hold my breath until I got outside.

I'd often see B going into or coming out of the Smoking Area and so quite naturally I assumed she was a smoker.  And since I was often walking by the Smoking Area and B was often walking from the Smoking Area, we had several occasions to strike up a conversation and thus, this is how I first began to talk to Miss B. 

Miss B's desk was also right outside Chief's office so before I fell out of favor with Chief, I'd often chat with Miss B whenever I had an occasion to be in Chief's office.  In fact, it was Miss B that was the one that quite often would say, "You can do no wrong in Chief's eyes.  He talks about Sergeant Dodge ALL of the time."

But you know, we now know that's not exactly true.  I did do wrong in Chief's eyes and well, I digress.

Cutting to the chase, Miss B was so often in the smoking room because her boy friend was a smoker so he'd come over on his breaks, lunch, etc. to see Miss B and being the smoker that he was, he had to you know, multi-task --talk to his girl friend WHILE smoking and so Miss B and her soldier would hang out in the smoking room.

After many casual conversations, Miss B invited me over to her house one Sunday afternoon but first she did forewarn me, she and her soldier boyfriend lived together.

Okay so I was single and pregnant.  Who was I to judge?  Miss B gave me directions to their house and we made our Sunday afternoon plans.

 

Smoking in the Boys Room

B was another interesting person I met at Ft. Riley.  She was a single secretary that worked on the second floor.-- that office right outside of Chief's office.  B was smart, very smart and probably working way under her potential.

Back in the day, the 80's day that is, the Army (and other institutions) were taking a serious look at smoking and the rights of non-smokers.  I remember back-back in the day, the 60's & 70's day, where smoking was not only widely accepted, it was almost expected in some circles.  I remember trips as a child, to my Dad's office were every desk had an ashtray and the reception area had a fancy free-standing ashtray that had a long pedestal.  Smoking was everywhere.  But fast forward back into the 80's, trying to accommodate both the smokers and non-smokers, businesses were designating smoking areas.

Enter B.

In our building, the hallway that lead down to my office, the very first office on the left was a designated smoking area.  It was just a room with couches and ashtrays and chairs and lots and lots of smoke.  So much smoke that at any time you walked by it and someone opened the door, a huge puff of smoke emitted from the room.  I'm not kidding you; when one time I peaked inside and it was as if a heavy fog descended onto the room.  You could only see the shapes of people and furniture, not any details or faces.  The room had no windows (that opened) and no ventilation.  I guess it wasn't a well thought-out designated smoking area and despite the fact that neither one of us smoked, this is where I met B.

The Getting Out

I was one complete mess but I'm standing here with no choice but to "get out".  I  paused first to pick up whatever shreds of dignity I could gather off of the floor to try and plaster them back into place before I left the room but shreds are hard to find in a sea of boxes, monitors and computers --and Chief was glaring at me as if to say, "Are you deaf?  Did I not speak English?"

I felt horrible mostly because I felt I didn't deserve to be treated this way.  I still had no idea exactly what I did wrong but there's a saying in the Army --or maybe its just one of those life sayings and its something about stuff rolling downhill, down stream---you know, something like that.  It seemed maybe that was going on - Chief got chewed out from someone that out ranked him and now he felt the need to chew someone out.

Something like that.

I started to walk out but then I decided I had something to say.  So still sobbing and still speaking disconnected words between those sobs, I said:

I - have - no - idea - what - I - did - wrong - but - I - know - I - didn't - deserve - to - be -yelled - at -or - treated - like - this - and - all - I - asked - was - for - a - minute - to - get - myself - together - I - don't - know - why - I - am - so - emotional - right - now - but - I'm - pregnant  - and - I - guess - maybe - that - is - why - but - what - you - did - was - unfair.

Chief stood there listening and his body language softened and that look of glaring anger left his face but there was certainly nothing warm or remorseful about his expression.

I turned away and walked out only to find the entire office of the civilian secretaries just sitting there in awkward silence.  They tried to pretend they didn't hear but gosh, I think the entire post heard Chief's yelling.  They tried to act like it was business as usual --but it clearly was not.

I walked back down to the first floor and went to the bathroom to get myself together before I had to go into my office.  Several people in the building saw me crying and with everyone knowing the condition of my mother, many assumed maybe she died.

Yes, I was just that upset.

Later in the day, nearing the end of the duty day Chief came down to my office.  Very stone faced, he stood in front of my desk and offered me an apology that went something like this:

Sergeant Dodge, the mistake I made was leading you to believe we were friends and maybe I treated you too casually but I am an officer and you a Sergeant and I think you got too comfortable with me thinking perhaps you didn't need to obey my orders.  I learned a lesson here and I will never make that mistake again.  Not with you, not with anyone else.  I'm sorry for misleading you.

And to that, I was thinking --

Okay well first of all, you are NOT an officer but a Warrant Officer and I'm sorry but there IS a difference.  Secondly, I was not too comfortable with you because you really flipped out over nothing.  I would have walked into that office no differently if you wore general stars on your collar or private mosquito wings --so apparently the problem here is your ego --or something like that.

But that is not what I said.  What I said was, "I never thought we were friends and I wasn't too comfortable with you."

Chief walked out of the office and that was the last time he ever spoke to me.  Whenever he saw me walking in the hallways, he'd turn and walk the opposite direction.  If he walked into an office when I was present, he'd quickly turn and walk back out.  It was all very strange and to this day, I don't understand exactly what happened but I imagine there was much more to the story than I knew.

And after all of that, I didn't even get one of the new computers.

On The Receiving End

Chief starts yelling, "Do you not see millions of dollars of equipment sitting around here?"  I told him yes and I was very confused where all of this was going.  So confused I started to think he was joking around.

So I was still hiking my way through the equipment and started commenting on how nice the computers looked, couldn't wait to get one, etc.

SERGEANT DODGE, DO YOU NOT HEAR ME?

I'm still confused but I know now he's not joking so I stop and say, "Yes, Chief.  I  hear you."  I had no idea what I had done wrong or what was wrong so I decided to just leave but to do so, I once again had to step over boxes, cords, etc.

SERGEANT DODGE!  STOP RIGHT THERE!

I stopped and turned around and now Chief was coming towards me.

HOW MANY TIMES DO I HAVE TO TELL YOU TO LEAVE?

Uh just one but you know --you never did say that.

I HAVE MILLIONS OF DOLLARS OF EQUIPMENT IN HERE.  I AM ACCOUNTABLE FOR EVERY BIT OF THIS AND I HAVE TO UNPACK IT AND GET IT ALL RECORDED AND ASSIGNED.  GET OUT!!!   GET OUT SERGEANT DODGE AND NEXT TIME I TELL YOU TO DO SOMETHING YOU BETTER DO IT.  DO I MAKE MYSELF CLEAR?  DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME?

Oh you made yourself perfectly clear but no, I do not understand anything about what just happened here. 

So those were just my thoughts.  I was reeling in confusion.  In those split seconds in your mind, I was replaying the entire scene trying to figure out what I did wrong.  But there's one thing I knew for certain, you don't argue with anyone that out ranked you.  I couldn't stand there and argue with Chief.  So what did I do?

Why, what any good pregnant women living under a ton of stress --I cried.  I cried and I cried and I cried.  No, I mean I didn't cry --I sobbed.  I sobbed and I was out of control crying.  The kind of crying where you just can't catch your breath.

And I think my emotion was due to what just happened but in my delicate state of pregnancy, I was also a walking emotional time-bomb so really anything could have detonated that reaction.  Also, due to my mother's illness I was also on emotional edge at all times.  This release of tears was probably as much about those things as it was the situation with Chief.

So as I'm standing there crying Chief is yelling at me to get out.  I was so out of control I didn't want to leave yet.  I was trying so desperately to breath and make myself stop crying but it seemed the harder I tried, the more difficult that was. 

You know, I was a Sergeant in the Army --there was some element of maintaining my military bearance that I wanted to try and gain before I left the office.  And walking out of Chief's office meant I had to go back out into the Civilian's secretary's work area.  So as Chief was yelling at me to leave I was trying to talk . . . .between sobs . . . .

Ch-ch-ch-ieeeee-f,  pppl-ease do-do-n't maaaa-ke me go  ooo-ut  th-th-there ri-ri-now.  Please *sob* give *sob* me *sob* a minute *sob* to *sob* calm *sob* down.  Please just  *sob* give me *sob* a minute.

Chief just looked at me and said, "Get out."

Chief

Chief was a Chief Warrant Officer that worked in JAG and for some reason, he really liked me.

No, I don't mean like that but on a professional level, he really liked me.  And in his eyes, I could do no wrong.  At least that's what everyone in JAG would say to me, "Well, in Chief's eyes, Sergeant Dodge can do no wrong."

I think he respected my work ethic and I think he thought I was smart.  And so, he kind of treated me like teacher's pet.

I'm not gonna lie, I wasn't hating it.  I worked on the first floor of our very large building and Chief was on the second floor.  I had an occasion to go upstairs maybe once or twice a day.  I probably needed to go up more often but our Legal Assistance office was crazy busy so it wasn't too often during the day I could even get away.

But those times I could get away I'd be upstairs and sometimes I'd chit-chat with the civilian secretaries.  Often times Chief would call me into his office and we'd chat --about Army stuff and legal stuff and Chief was nice to me and Chief treated me like --you know, I could do no wrong.

Until one day, I did wrong.

Computers were just coming onto the scene back in the 80's.  We used word processors and those old fashioned things --typewriters but the Army was investing in technology and so we were getting in new computers.  I mean, not like what you think a computer to be but for the 80's we were on the cutting edge of technology --complete with those monitors that took up your entire desk top.

JAG was getting issued computer stations for just about every person and Chief was in charge of signing for the equipment and assigning it to individuals, etc.  I walked upstairs one afternoon and there were monitors (HUGE ones) and computers everywhere.  Chief was in the process of unpacking them, recording serial numbers, etc.  So I walked into Chief's office, which was more like an office to an office --it was like a reception area to the Master Sergeant's office so the area was open.  It also had a doorway to this big open area where all of the civilian secretaries worked.  Back then we really didn't use cubicles but in today's work place, they probably would have been all cubicle spaces --but as it were, they were just desks in a wide open area.

I myself was an emotional walking time-bomb.  At this point, I was about 7 months pregnant, very large and very uh well ----as pregnant women can be --hormonal.  I was also dealing daily with my mother's illness, being alone, self-pity --all that kind of stuff.  So I was like a walking emotional hand grenade.

I'm very excited to see all of the new equipment.  I had been pounding out documents on a MANUAL typewriter for much too long -- I was excited at the possibility of having a real computer.  I walked through Chief's office, careful not to trip over boxes, monitors, cords, etc. and I was more focused on maneuvering my way through this mine field, especially treacherous for a pregnant woman such as myself to trip and fall, so I'm looking down at my feet (that probably were stinky but not emitting white powder) careful to watch where I was stepping and without looking up I said something very casual like, "Hey Chief!".  I did notice there was an odd silence and so I stopped in my tracks, looked up to see if Chief was paying attention.  He was so angry it wasn't just the expression on his face that told me so.  I mean, he almost had steam blowing out of his ears (like on the cartoons).  I had done or said absolutely nothing wrong or out of the ordinary and so I figured it must have been something that happened prior to me coming in.  I stood there, waiting and the longer I waited the more it became apparent I was going to be on the receiving end of that anger.

The Girl, The End

I didn't just drop The Girl like a hot potato.  On the weekends I took her around apartment hunting and we'd occasionally shop together.  Like we did before, eventually we didn't talk as much and then weeks had passed since I talked to The Girl.

Until one day she called me.  She needed me again.  Turns out, when she and her boyfriend had an apartment together they bought some furniture together and The Girl left a lot of her personal belongings in the apartment.  Now, she FINALLY had a place of her own and so she wanted to get her things and the furniture that was hers.

The problem is, the Army is now involved and like I said, they don't like cheaters and abusers.  The soldier's unit was aware of what was going on and they were taking action to both get him help but hold him accountable as well.  He was given an order not to contact The Girl --a restraining order of sorts, and since he was still living in the apartment, she was not allowed to go over there.  He was not comfortable with her getting things without him present and so it was arranged that The Girl would go to the apartment accompanied by an NCO and the guy would have his platoon leader there as well.  The two were not allowed to talk to one another -not say one single word to each other.  All communication between The Girl and the soldier were to be done through the NCO's and we, the NCO's had final decisions on things.  That's what the pair of them agreed to.

So --The Girl called me and asked if I'd be her NCO and accompany her to the apartment to pick up her things.  On the appointed time, we went over to the apartment.

I remember the soldier had more people there with him --two or three NCO's from his unit.  I was the only one with The Girl.  All of us walked through the apartment room by room and went through every single item, just about.  Luckily, they had not lived together for too long and so they had not yet accumulated too many things and the soldier did not dispute The Girl having most of their possessions.  Gracious, I mean -that was the least he could do, I thought.

I loved seeing this abuser "in check".  He liked to cheat and bully women around and here he was being submissive and controlled.  I LOVED that.  I was almost giddy with delight.

The moving out was without drama or incident.  I eventually didn't talk to The Girl much.  After our babies were born we got together.  She had a boy and was jealous of the fact that I had a girl.  One time while we were both out on maternity leave there was a huge snow storm coming and knowing she was in her apartment alone and didn't have transportation, I stopped by to see if she had food, diapers, etc. and if she needed to take a trip to the commissary.  She said she was fine.  I'm pretty sure that was the last time we ever spoke.

The soldier never did even come see her in the hospital, though he was granted permission to do so.  Last thing I heard she was taking him to court for child support.  I think he bought some clothes, diapers and baby things and had someone bring those things over to her apartment but that was all he did.  Even after the baby was born she still had not told her family.  I even once asked her if she thought about adoption but that offended her and she said, "Black folks don't give their children away."

Oh yeah, one time I baby sat for her.  After we both went back to work she had to pull duty one night and called me to ask if I'd keep her baby.  Of course I did.  He was a fat greedy little boy.  He loved to eat and loved to sleep.  I felt sorry for him.  I wondered about his future --a father that was most likely going to be absent from his life and an extended family that didn't even know he existed --not to mention a very young inexperienced mother that had virtually no support system.  Yeah, it was sad.

And that's the story of The Girl, a young soldier from Louisiana that I knew for a brief time while at Ft. Riley.

The Girl The Ex-Roommate

My new roommate situation wasn't working out so much.   She started out sleeping on the couch but it really wasn't big enough so then the two of us were sleeping in my queen sized bed but you know, that really wasn't big enough either.  It was a small (crappy) apartment and it just wasn't working out for the two of us.

The Girl didn't have a car so I drove her to work every morning and picked her up on the way home.  Sometimes, she'd hang out with a friend in the barracks and would get a ride back to the apartment.  Those were peaceful nights. 

Mostly, I just didn't like having The Girl there.

There was so little we had in common and the more I got to know her, the more I realized that we had even less in common.

And I was paying for all of our living expenses --she'd even eat all my food and not offer to buy any, despite the fact I knew she was receiving BAQ and Sep Rats (extra money each month for living expenses).  I was also incurring a bit more gas expense having to drive her around.  Then again, I'd rather she saved all of her money for that deposit and first month's rent --if she was indeed saving her money.

But I felt bad for The Girl and didn't want to put a single pregnant soldier out on the street.

So instead I offered to take The Girl apartment hunting on the weekends.  She would look but found something wrong with every single place.

And then I had it.  So one night I had a talk with her.  It went something like this:

[She had not told her family back home in Louisiana that she was pregnant, she was afraid to tell them.]

There are consequences to our behaviors and sometimes those consequences are long lasting.  You knew you were involved with a married man and you knew that was wrong.  I realized he lied and promised you the moon and the stars --that he was going to divorce his wife and you'd two live happily-ever-after; I know he deceived you.  I know that hurts and I know you still hold on some measure of hope.  Even if that was true, that he intended to build a life with you, you have to realize what a difficult life that would be.  At the very least, he would have a financial responsibility to his ex-wife and kids.  You illegally moved into military family housing and then you got an apartment with this guy --WHO IS STILL MARRIED AND LYING TO HIS WIFE.  You're young but you're also going to be a mother.  Its time to grow up, take responsibilities for your actions.  You have to think about your baby now.  In just a few months you're going to have a baby and you need to prepare a place for the two of you to live.  Also, you need to tell your family back home what is going on.  I realize how difficult this news will be to tell them but the longer you wait the more difficult it is going to be.  You need them now.  Your family can help you, support you.  That's what you need right now, you need those words of encouragement and wisdom.  Listen, this is hard for me but I have a baby on the way too.   I can't sleep well with you here, I can't really afford to have you here.  I need you to find your own place and I mean soon like, now.  This weekend.  If you can't find a place right away then you're going to have to move back into the barracks.  I'm sorry, this just isn't working out.

The Girl understood.  She said she'd just go back to the barracks.  So that next day she made arrangements to have a room in the barracks.  I then helped her move back.

It was so peaceful and nice having my (crappy) apartment back to myself.

A Roommate

I decided I was just going to let things take their natural course.  The Husband wasn't going to be able to maintain this lie for long --eventually his real wife was going to want to be reunited and eventually The Girl was going to give birth to his child and the entire situation was going to get messy --er or um, messier --all on its own.  So what I decided to do was just let the entire thing run its natural course.

I talked to The Girl much less until we finally had no contact at all for several months . . . until one day out of the blue I got a call.  It was The Girl.  She was crying and upset and she asked if I could come get her. 

So let's back up.

Just like I suspected, The Husband eventually had to move out of military housing.  I do not remember how that all transpired; if he got caught or told his wife the truth or voluntarily gave up housing --I just don't remember but he did give up his family housing and he and The Girl got an apartment together off post.

The Girl called me because she didn't know who else to turn to.  She asked if I could come pick her up and said, "I can't stay here any more."  I tell you, I wanted to help The Girl but on the other hand, I wasn't too sure how safe it was for me to go get her.  I mean, both of us were well into our pregnancies and I knew this guy, The Ex-Husband or whatever his current marital status was . . .I knew he was abusive and if he was out of control to the point The Girl needed to get out, I wasn't exactly sure what I'd find if I went there.  She assured me he wasn't home at the time and she needed to get out before he came back.

So against my (now) better judgment, I went to pick up The Girl.  I quickly helped her get some personal things together and then we left, no note or explanation to her boyfriend.  I took her to my apartment and told her she could stay with me but it was upon a few conditions:

1.  I knew what a miserable existence living in the barracks was while pregnant so I told her she needed to find her own apartment or place to live off post.

2.  She was to contact her boyfriend's commander and inform him of the situation (the Army doesn't take a liking too well to cheaters and abusers).

3.  She was to refrain from ANY contact whatsoever with her boyfriend and only contact him through his unit or attorney.

4.  If he came around or contacted her in ANY manner she was to call the police immediately.

5.  She was under no circumstances to tell her boyfriend where she was, give out my address, etc.

She agreed to all of it.  And thus, I now lived in a crappy 1-bedroom apartment with my big pregnant belly and another soldier that also had a big pregnant belly.