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."