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.