OH! MY! -- WAIT ---WHAT???? We're going to WAR?

Being a "newbie" to my unit was much like being a freshman in high school and those upperclassmen would see to it I was fully indoctrinated.

When I first got to the 1st AD there was some political unrest which meant we, the lower enlisted, had to pull guard duty through the night. I had pulled guard duty in basic training. I knew I didn't want to pull guard duty! From what I could gather, this guard duty consisted of walking the inner perimeter of the kaserne while in full gear; helmet, flak vest (bullet proof vest --and it was heavy!), pistol belt, M16 rifle . . . yeah, didn't exactly sound like my cup of tea. I was happy to learn soldiers that were inprocessing would not be put on the duty roster. Whew! I did escape that and turns out, by the time I was ready for full duty, we no longer had to pull this extra guard duty. But from the get-go, I did realize I was in a different place. This wasn't American soil and things would be different. During my tenure in Germany, depending on the political climate at the time, we'd get notice of certain countries being closed off for soldiers. Most of time it was a short temporary ban. Also, the threat may or may have not been real serious (to consider the ban) but the Army wasn't willing to take chances and I'm sure they erred on the side of caution. It did make me feel slightly uneasy. I felt like at any time anything could happen and then one morning, it did.

One very early morning, while nestled snugly in my Army issued bed partially behind a flimsy white plastic shelf, sheltered from the outside world by a thin layer of contact paper, I was awaken very annoyingly by loud knocks on the door while someone was yelling, "ALERT! ALERT!" All of my roommates promptly knew what to do. Though grumbling and still half asleep, they all got up and began to bustle around. Outside of our door, I could hear a lot of commotion --lots of loud talking, people walking, etc. I thought perhaps I should do something but what? I kind of sat on the edge of my bed for a while and then finally asked what was going on. One of my roommates replied, "Girl! We're on alert! You betta get yourself up." Okay, Einstein, I heard the man pounding on our door yelling, "ALERT!" I pretty much gathered we were on Alert. Alert? What exactly was Alert?

Well, if everyone else was getting up and dressed, all we like sheep --I'd get up and do the same. My roommates one by one were dressed and left. Where were they going? What were they doing? After a little while they came back and (crap) in full gear. I asked a different roommate what was going on. She said, "You don't know?" Well duh, why does everyone keep giving me such stupid answers? No, I told her --I certainly did not know what was going on. She said, "Well girl! We're on Alert! We're going to war! Packing up! Moving out! Did you get your weapon yet (I saw she had hers)? You better hurry! The Arms rooms is gonna close and girl! How you going to war with no weapon?" She just walked away. That's it.

OH! MY! -- WAIT ---WHAT???? We're going to WAR? Okay, I'm scared. Maybe I should sit on my bed and cry. What about my family? My Mom isn't going to like this. I don't think she envisioned me going to war. What about Courtney and Morgan? If I get killed in action, they will never remember me. What will my sisters think? War!? Me? I'm a female. We don't go to combat! What's going on? I can't go to war! I just got out of basic training! WAR??????????????? OH DEAR GOD HELP ME!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Like everyone else had done, I went down to the Arms room and got my weapon. We were to report to our appointed place of duty which in my case, was SJA. It was a rather short walk across the parking lot. When I left the barracks I noticed Army vehicles were beginning to line up in front of division headquarters. Soldiers were scurrying about. There was a lot of fast paced activity. Once again, a plot to go AWOL briefly crossed my mind. Yes, I was scared --I was quite scared. I had no idea what was going on and in some way, the not knowing was the scariest part.

I got to the SJA office and was surprised to find that though it was a very o-dark-thirty in the morning, business at SJA was status quo. Everyone was in full gear but sitting at type writers, desks, etc. Didn't they know we were going to war? Oh man, I hated to be the one to break it to them. I was a little suspicious though so instead of just blurting out the news --like Germany had been invaded or something, I decided to just sit and listen and see how things play out.

My NCOIC asked, "Do you want to go get breakfast? The mess hall is going to be crowded." Good idea, I thought. I mean, I can hardly fight a war on an empty stomach!

Slowly but surely it became clear to me we were NOT going to war. This was in fact just an exercise of readiness. The CG (Commanding General) would determine when we'd have these surprise alerts --much like those fire drills in grade school. The point was to remain ever ready --so we'd all be expected to gear up and line up as if we were pulling out. It was one of many Alerts I'd have to go through but this by far would always be the most memorable one.

Thanks, roomies! Hmmm --- I wonder if I over paid for that elevator pass they sold me. I bet I could have gotten it cheaper!

Just a step above a prison cell --is what I used to think

Things were moving along. I was getting to know the soldiers in my barracks and learning the ropes at SJA (Staff Judge Advocate), which would be like --well, in Army terms my squad, I guess. In civilian terms my office. I still wasn't loving my room and lack of privacy but our new bathrooms were complete so at least there wasn't that whole business to deal with.

The new bathrooms were quite nice with one exception -- we still didn't have private showers. There was just one big shower room. I hated it but as time went along we all sort of just fell into a routine/schedule that afforded some level of privacy.

This was the space I lived in (for a while) that was originally bunked. That's all Uncle Sam gave me; a bed, a small 3-drawer dresser, and a wall-locker!

I added the white shelf then put contact paper behind it so when the door was opened, it gave some element of privacy. The downside to that was the inside of the contact paper was tacky so everything stuck to it, including dust! The balloon in the corner was from my party!

This gives you the perspective of where my space was in relation to the door. As you can see, as soon as it was open, my entire bed/area was exposed! Gasp! What is that Pepsi can doing there? Wow, things in Germany were so much worse than I even remembered! Where's the Coke? One thing I was thankful for that you can barely see here --in the bottom left corner you see the end of the bed of the person that stayed across from me. She had an old metal Army bed --I was glad to have the wooden frame --made things a bit more homey. I mean, a teeny tiny bit more.

Happy Birthday!

Before my bunk mate left for Erlangen she caught wind it was my birthday. She, along with some others in the barracks, threw me a surprise party! I hardly knew any of the people there. Soldiers are special people and it is true they take care of their own. All of us were away from home. Without having to explain it, we knew what each person was going through. I was very touched and appreciative. Unfortunately, I hardly ever saw those people again. I didn't stay at my own party long as it was just a lot of partying and drinking --later everyone moved the party along to the bar scene. But this was the first time I really met some of the people living in the barracks.

The two big 'ol heads you see to the right --no clue who they are. The girl in the black dress was my bunk mate that eventually went to Erlangen. The other female --I think she was assigned to 400 PSC but I'm not certain.

The guy behind me well -- he was an Army brat, son of a Colonel so the Army life was the only life he knew. Sadly, he ended up getting Court Martialed on a drug related charge. He was sent to Ft. Leavenworth prision and that's the last I ever heard about him. If I remember correctly, he got a fairly long sentence. He won't be the only person that ends up with this fate as my story goes along.

The other significance of this party is --this is where I first met Tom. Tom is one of the few people I will actually mention by name.

Be All That You Can Be!

About that POV ---

During my in processing my NCOIC suggested I study for and take the USAEUR driver's license test. Convinced this was not a good move, based on the advice I had been given, I acted very disinterested and kept putting it off. The other male private that got in country shortly after me was all too anxious to get his license! He jumped at the chance.

Turns out, as the sage sergeant knew, privates with a license to drive end up doing just that --driving! It's critical for career advancement that you work in areas that strengthen your MOS (Military Occupation Specialty --ie, your job). The female SP4 who helped me settle in had done nothing in regards to JAG --she basically was the Colonel's driver. Career wise, I don't think that worked out well for her. The male private that was eager to drive well --that's what he got to do --drive. Its a little different overseas than stateside since the brigades & battalions are so spread out. At first the private loved being a driver as he was out and about and got to see a lot of things, go places, etc. In the meantime, I was assigned to Admin Law which among other things I was in charge of the Division Law Library, Letters of Reprimand, Summary and Special Courts Martial (in some cases). For a private, this was a great assignment. In Admin Law we had two captains, a German civilian and myself. I was exposed to a lot of aspects of military law and when things were slow, I read some of the articles and publications in the library. This was in the 80's when the military first started cracking down on DUI's. At that time, the punishment being a Letter of Reprimand which stayed in your OMPF (Official Military Personnel File). The division general, General Leland, insisted he signed every DUI LOR. The higher ranking the LOR came from, the more severe the impact it was on your military career. Since I had to process all of the LOR's for the entire division, I quickly learned all of the units in the division. I came to recognize certain names and their positions. Later, this became very valuable knowledge for me.

Instead of spending my days driving, I was learning more about my MOS, the division and the Army. Having finally put all that training behind me, I began to take the Army seriously. Well, not that I didn't take the Army seriously before because I lived in fear EVERY DAY of being put out of the Army or going to jail. I don't know why --it's not like I was doing illegal things but I did grasp the concept the Army was much different from civilian life and in some ways, they did own me. I wanted to toe the line (with the exception of little things like hooking my rifle to my pistol belt). I didn't want to get sent home as I had seen happen to so many soldiers throughout basic training and AIT; some were put out for medical reasons, some females for being pregnant, some for failing to meet Army standards, some for coming up hot on a urinalysis --so many different reasons. As I began to absorb the Army life and JAG, I simply found that despite the miserable existence I had thus far found the Army to be, I was falling in love with being a soldier --and I wanted to be the very best I could be. Yeah, I wanted to Be All I Could Be!

The Proof is in the Picture

In case there's any doubt whatsoever how much I hated my TA-50, the proof is in the picture. This was a FTX exercise during AIT at Ft. Benjamin Harrison, Indiana (1986).

If a picture paints a thousand words, I can shut up now.

CEASE FIRE! CEASE FIRE! CEASE FIRE!

Coming up to the barbed wire part of the course was a relief as it signaled the end --and a piping hot dinner was waiting for us as soon as we completed the course. That was enough to motivate me to low crawl even in the most undesirable conditions.

Prior to taking on the course, we were given instructions by our drill sergeants such as; do not hook your rifle onto your pistol belt (oops), do not leave anyone in your squad behind, do not forgot to clear your mask, etc. The final and most important instructions were in regards to the end of the course. We were told we'd be crawling through lanes, so to speak, made of barbed wire. At the end of the wire was a bunk where our drill sergeants would be engaging in live fire. We were given STRICT instructions over and over and over that once we got to the end of the barbed wire to wait to receive a signal from the drill sergeant before proceeding. Once we were given the signal to go, we were to get up and run while keeping our head down and jump into the bunker, which was at a below ground level. Got it? Good. Let's go.

The state of mind I was in -- tired (exhausted, really), skin still burning and itching from the tear gas, wet --miserably wet, loaded down with gear (the beloved TA-50 type stuff), hungry (it was way past our dinner time) & cold (this was in late November or early December at Ft. Dix, NJ). It was extremely loud both from the live fire and the recorded sounds. It was a very distracting scene. Some of the live fire were tracer bullets which I actually liked those (yes, she found something she likes). They looked like red fireworks and against the dark night sky, it was quite pretty. Can a soldier use the word "pretty" to describe a firing range? Well, this soldier just did.

The low-crawl is exactly what is sounds like it would be. It's that pre-crawling a baby does before he actually get up on his hands and knees. You use your elbows, knees and feet to push yourself along while on your belly --staying as low to the ground as possible which means, you keep your behind down. In other words, don't stick your butt up in the air. There, I said it --I said butt. Let's move on. Your hands aren't very useful as you have to grip your rifle with those --being ever ready to fire that bad boy in case the enemy approaches. In this instance, we were crawling through rows of barbed wire so you had to be mindful to keep your elbows close to your body and keep very very low to the ground. As you're crawling through, your squad members are behind you --as in a single file manner.

When I got to the end of the barbed wire I waited for drill sergeant to signal. The bunk looked a lot like a baseball dugout --drill sergeant were standing there firing various weapons; some were live bullets, some were blanks, some were tracer rounds. There were several rows of these barbed wire lanes so you'd see 4-6 soldiers all running towards the bunk at one time. My squad was one of the last to come in --as was always the case with me. I was super weak and super slow at most Army things. The lanes to the left and right of me were empty but I had several soldiers directly behind me. I guess they were as hungry and tired as I was because they were anxious to get through.

I'm waiting for drill sergeant to signal me over when suddenly --he just walks away. Now what? Well, surely he will be back so I wait. And I wait. And I wait --no drill sergeant. Now my squad members behind me, who can't see the bunker, are getting ticked off at me, "Go!", they keep yelling. So I've got all this overhead noise, soldier yelling at me and in the state of mental and physical exhaustion. I decided to make a run for it. I get up and run across the range to the bunkers, keeping my head low like a good soldier that follows directions to the T --NOT!

As I was running drill sergeant decided to make his way back and he sees me and yells while waving his arms, " CEASE FIRE! CEASE FIRE! CEASE FIRE!" All the while he dives onto the ground towards me, grabs me by the chest and throws me into the bunker. Once in the bunker, he picks me up off the ground and in a very "shaken baby syndrome" manner, puts his hands on my shoulders and starts shaking me and yelling, "WERE YOU NOT TOLD TO WAIT FOR THE SIGNAL?" Transitioning from anger to concern, he then starts patting me down saying, "Are you okay? Do you feel anything? Are you okay?" He's a bit calmer now, not as panicked as he reaches for my helmet, takes it off and inspects it. In a very fatherly fashion, he put his hands on the side of my face, turning my head from side to side. He looks me straight in the eye, shaking his head and though I'm not a mind reader, I could clearly read his thoughts at that moment, "Stupid, stupid trainee!" By this time 2 other drill sergeants walk over asking, "Is she okay?"

Drill sergeant just looks and says, "Yeah, she's fine."

A Basic Training Flashback

It was towards the end of basic training and this was our last big exercise. It culminated just about everything we had learned so far. I was very nervous about it because I knew in the course of this exercise we were going to be gassed --I hated getting gassed.

We had to complete a course that was set up as a war-time operation. It consisted of marching through woods, looking for the enemy, basic map reading, getting attacked by chemical warfare (tear gas, in this case), crawling through an obstacle while live fire was going on over head. Drill Sergeants were lurking in the woods --making sure we were staying on task but also acting as the enemy, so to speak. At the end of the course, we had to low crawl under some barbed wire all the while drill sergeants were in a bunk and firing over head. At the same time, a recording was playing with war sounds like helicopters, gun fire, bombs, yelling . . .it was very loud.

It was night time and as my luck would have it, also raining. This made visibility more difficult, the grounds muddy and more difficult to walk through & general wet miserableness. The worst factor of the rain is the tear gas --when it hits your wet skin it sticks to it more, so to speak, and burns like crazy. I wanted to get this gas business done and over with.

We were sent into the woods as a squad in full gear (TA-50) and with our M16 rifles. At the first sight, smell or sound of gas, you had to secure your weapon (you can't just lay it on the ground), take your helmet off, grab your gas mask out of its pouch, put the mask on, clear it, put your helmet back on and grab your weapon. Sounds easy? Well, consider also during which tears are pouring down your face from the gas, your lungs burn and feel like they're going to explode; you can't see or breath. Your first instinct, which you must fight, it to flea but you HAVE to get that mask on first. Your other initial instinct is to chuck that weapon and go for the gas mask.

I was terrified. I thought for certain I'd not be able to get my mask on or I'd loose my weapon or --something horrific would happen to me. Keep in mind, we had already been to the gas chamber and had to endure being gassed while stating our name, rank and social security number. Sounds easy? Aside from the burning painful physical aspect of it, you can't remember much of anything, including your own name. I knew how wretched the gas was. I KNEW it was going to burn. I KNEW getting my mask on quickly was my only saving grace. So *whispers* I decided to cheat. THAT'S RIGHT, I said it. I'm a cheater!

I hooked my weapon to my pistol belt so this way, I could drop it and immediately free my hands to grab my mask and not loose my weapon. Was I supposed to do that? No! Did I do that anyway? Yes. I'm so ashamed.

The time finally came. We were walking along in the cold, dark wet woods and the gas hit. Some people couldn't fight their instinct and they took off running. Some panicked and couldn't get their masks on. Others were vomiting from the gas. It was chaos. I had learned earlier the best thing to do was to remain calm. I dropped my weapon, grabbed my mask, got it on, cleared it then got myself back together. My skin was on fire! My neck and arms were especially affected. I looked around and saw that most of us had gotten our masks on but some were still struggling. The ones that took off running, drill sergeant had brought them back. Did you ever see a soldier in full gear with a gas mask on? It's kind of scary. This whole scene was scary.

There were several reasons for me to hate the gas mask; it constricts your line of vision, it smells like nasty plastic rubber sweaty nastiness inside, it pulls your hair down (for females), makes it difficult to hear people talk, you can't tell one another apart, hot inside (like being in a rubber suit) and just generally uncomfortable. We had to continue on for a short while in our masks until we got the "All Clear" sign.

The next big thing I had to overcome on this obstacle was to low-crawl under the barbed wire and not get shot. No big surprise that I also hated low crawling because the gritty sandy dirt would grind against your knees and elbows. I hated that feeling --and I knew tonight was going to be even worse since that was going to be WET gritty sandy dirt. Having survived the gassing incident, I was ready for the low crawl which was, thankfully, also the end of the course.

In the midst of it all I got confused and ended up running across the range during LIVE FIRE.

We'll pick up the story there tomorrow.