I am fighting the sun more than I am fighting to endure freedom. I tried my hardest to blend in with the men, although I am smaller and one of the few females here. I belong here. It is in my blood to carry the weight of a Soldier. I held my ground although it felt like there was a blow dryer in my face. I won’t give in, I won’t fall to my knees like the others.
“Private Johnson!” a tall middle aged man with dirty blonde hair called me over after formation.
“MOVING SERGEANT!” I said as strongly as I could, as I ran up standing at “Parade rest” with my legs apart and my hands behind my back. I could see him looking uncomfortable as if I did something wrong.
“Why are you here?” He said confused.
“I am here to serve. I have never deployed before, I want the experience.” I said with confidence.
“Alright meet me at the company at 1700 for a brief.
“Roger Sergeant.” I started to move my legs together and put my arms at my side. Again he looked uncomfortable. He had me sign some papers and give me some information about the base. I tried hard to pay attention, but I still felt hot. The minimal amount of makeup was useless against this heat. I only wore it to try to hide my freckles but by the end of the day they would reveal themselves. I’m always covering my flaws, as if makeup could fix me, like I expected the military to. As I was seated I felt him looking at me, he was present but his presence made me question what he was thinking, probably thinking why is she here again?
“Done!” I exclaimed, trying to hold on to my confidence that I was now lacking. He took a step closer, grabbed my forms touching my hand slightly. I held my breath.
“Be careful out here, if there’s any issues let me know,” he said with a high rise smile. I exhaled.
“I can handle it.” I left the tent walking as if I was in charge. Besides this was Kuwait not Afghanistan. I liked that we have a USO which is a civilian sponsored program with phones, food, computers. The boys really like the Xboxes and playstations. I heard one guy brought special edition comic books. I was suspicious of him. Why would anyone do that? he also didn’t talk much. It was like he lived in those comic books.
The civilians were able to get us a bus into the city to a swimming pool. I was excited to cool down, and be a normal girl for once, not a “female.” I wore a two piece and had to wear my belly ring because it made me feel like a rebel. Even though I am an American Soldier I can’t forget my freedoms too. It’s ironic how I fight for freedom only to lose my own. I was a little nervous because my bust isn’t as big as the other girls, then again I am young and I heard a woman’s breasts aren’t fully grown until she is 25. Also I am not here to impress anyone, especially our men, I tried to convince myself. We are taught to see them as our brothers.
I am a good swimmer, but I took my time entering the pool. I could see from a distance Segreant Smith’s stern face, as if I did something wrong. His eyebrows lowered and I felt his anger from across the otherside of the pool. I was shark bait for sure, but why?
“Johnson!” he yelled, like my father did when I stayed out past curfew.
I swam as fast as I could, slowly raising my body halfway up at the end of the pool.
“Is that a belly ring?” he scrunched his face in disbelief. I looked down in embarrassment.
“Yes Sergeant.” I said softly.
“What is the regulation on body piercings?” I didn’t respond, my voice stolen along with my confidence. What happened to “physically and mentally tough?” I asked myself. He kneeled down to my level.
“Get…out…of…the…pool.” Now I know where my confidence and voice went. He made me feel small. I felt even smaller as I raised up revealing the other half of my body out of the pool. The other men laughed and now I was afraid I would lose their respect too.
I hated being pale. My skin turned red and I did a walk of shame to the latrines. I didn’t want to come out, I was done swimming, I stayed in there overthinking the situation, until the bus came. It wasn’t that serious, but I forgot that my body was “government property” not my own, even outside of the uniform.
“Well I can’t cry, otherwise men will say that’s why we don’t belong here.….women. Suck it up Johnson.” I whispered to myself as I put my camouflage back on, hiding myself becoming nothing but a number again. I can’t fail my mom, or worse my dad who helped to fight for freedom as well.
When we got on the bus I could hear the men conversation on who they would fuck, marry or kill. A game where they choose females such as Scarlett Johansson, Halle Berry or Kim Kardashian. Sometimes I would play along just to show them I can be one of the boys, even though I hated the stereotype of females in the Army, but I have to blend in. I have to survive. I’ve seen what happens to females that can’t play the game. If they find out you report them for anything, they will make your life hell. I like the part where one of the guys brings up fucking the other guys mom because I can’t help but laugh in my head when they start to “play” fight.
When we arrived at the base, Sergeant Smith got off and waited at the door taking accountability. My turn was coming up. I was still feeling embarrassed, and he was still giving me the same look as if I was in the two piece. I kept marching as he kept counting. Aren’t we supposed to do that? Pretend we are robots, show no emotion.
There was a 06 inspection and I made sure my locker and bunk was dressed, right, dressed. I am OCD so it helps alot, it’s the only thing I can get right. I started scratching and picking at my skin that was already damaged, but I can’t allow myself to be damaged goods. I need to stay focused. If it wasn’t scratching I would wash my hands constantly. I felt the more I washed to the point of over drying meant that I was cleaned of everything, not just germs, but for whatever these hands might make me do. I was prepared.
“At EASE!” I heard the other females say in the bunks.
“Carry on!” Sergeant Smith calmly said as he made his way through. He was getting closer and I inhaled and exhaled waiting for his judgment. The other females were excused one after another. “Ugh” I sighed because they are supposed to wait for all of us, we are taught to always have a “battle buddy” guess they forgot about me, I don’t blame them. A couple of them have kids and I’m sure they had to rush to make a call because of the time difference. He marched slowly to the front of my face, inspecting me although this was a room inspection. I guess I am getting special treatment.“What was he looking at?” I thought to myself as he eyeballed my rank, it doesn’t help that it is on my chest. I held my breath as my heart was beating out of it. I am sure he saw it because he stared at it for a minute, then looked up, his eyes fixated on mine, however I cannot make direct eye contact for fear of being called out for “eyeballing” which is a negative.
“Relax” He stated as I moved, releasing my hands to my side. He marched to my wall locker. He opened it as though everything in there was his. Everything in this room was his….even me. There was a picture of my younger self with my dad, when he was in the service. I exhaled as he pulled off the tape and inspected the back. This pissed me off. I could feel the rage, it was too late. It overboiled like my mom’s pots when she tried to cook, and I said with my chest.
“According to AR 670-1, I am allowed to wear body piercings outside of my uniform, Sergeant.” He began to approach me, I moved without him relieving me taking a step towards my wall locker. He stood behind me, I started to hesitate giving into my fear again when I heard his footsteps fading away as he headed outside. I calmed myself but was also worried that I had made myself a target. Men have found ways to mess with you, and power is scary depending on who holds it.
We had to clear out the bunkers and latrines the next day. As I wandered off to one of the bunkers to pick up trash. I was reaching for the water cases, but was too short to grab it, then a sandy tan hand reached over me.
“Jesus!” I jumped.
“You should always pay attention to your surroundings.” I looked up to find Sergeant Smith.
He scolded me as I turned red, as if someone had pinched my cheeks, which was an old way of wearing blush. He placed the water case next to me as he opened it, he reached out to hand me one of the bottles, then pulled it back. I sighed, then he did it again. My voice had begun weakening.
“I am a thirsty Sergeant.”
“I know…” he said as he stared at me for a minute straight. “You know in some places out here, when you hand a water bottle over that’s already opened, they won’t drink it because it is considered unclean.” He unscrewed the cap and handed it to me with his high smile going from ear to ear. “Asshole” I thought to myself as I snatched the water. I refused to let him win, so I drank it as if it was the best water I ever tasted and smacked my lips like it was refreshing, even though it was hot as fuck.
He then followed me to the next bunker where the National Guard would hang out. There was trash everywhere from MRE’s, which I always hated because the food made my stomach ache and I never got the ones with the skittles. There were names of females on the wall, including my own. I knew what this meant when our names were crossed out. “nasty “ I thought but then again they were called the “nasty girls.” I wasn’t that upset compared to Sergeant Smith. He looked like I did something wrong again. Like it was my fault my name was up there. He stared in a trance and I slowly backed away, about to exit the bunker when I heard.
“Sergeant Smith!” A stronger voice had yelled. He came out of his trance.
“Moving!” Realizing it was 1SG. We both walked out of the bunker. 1SG looked at Sergeant Smith and inhaled and exhaled deeply. As I walked away I could hear him say.
“I’m giving you orders to accompany the commander in Qatar.”
“Roger 1SG”
I felt a sense of relief knowing that he will be in another country, far away from me, but for how long? That was always the issue, we are given orders and not allowed to ask questions, just say
“Roger” and move out. They would separate us and send us to the surrounding countries like Afghanistan, Iraq and Qatar depending on the mission. I did hear from other Soldiers that he had to go to Afghanistan and Iraq after Qatar.
For 4 months I was able to focus on my MOS as a 25L, which is a signal job, better yet known as a cable dog. I felt free and I knew I probably won’t be seeing Sergeant Smith until we leave. I headed to formation every morning with my head tilted up and pulled forward like the correct way to stop a nosebleed, but for some reason this morning felt different. I could sense something was wrong and my body began to remind me of my anxiety. I saw a tall dirty blonde man from a distance. I felt a ball in my throat and a familiar tone. I was hoping my eyes and ears were lying to me. “It’s probably the sand in my face.” Then he turned and smiled as I approached the formation. I felt small again, but tried my best to stand tall like him.
“Fall out!” he yelled after accountability. I tried to rush to my bunk. When I heard
“Private Johnson!” I froze.
“Moving Sergeant.” I said with my anxiety reminding me of how vulnerable I was. I stood at parade rest, legs apart, arms behind my back..the usual.
“I need you to stay after 1700 so I can show you how to do a 4856.”
“There is no reason for me to learn about counseling, if I haven’t even been to the promotion board yet.” I thought to myself.
“Sergeant, I am not an NCO yet.”
“I am not asking you, I am telling you” he reiterated.
Enough is enough. I had to stand my ground. What is the point of moving up in the ranks if I can’t be what is called “the backbone of the Army.” I could smell my mom’s burnt macaroni and the sound of the lid wobbling as I inhaled and said with a different tone of voice, one I have never heard before.
“I am not promotable, there is no need for me to counsel soldiers.” I “eyeballed him” as I released my arms from parade rest without his permission and took a step further. He backed down in disbelief, his eyes growing big and dilating. “When I am promotable I will learn how to counsel.” I assured him. He looked at me, his voice cracking.
“Are you disobeying a direct order?” I lifted my head up to his level.
“Yes…I…am.” I stated, as his face began to flush.