Circumstances
can push a person to do something that is completely against the grain. I
had a plague that many young ladies could relate to, an unfortunate
relationship with the wrong guy. This relationship reached its head
the day after pay day. I went to fill up my car to find my barely
employed boyfriend had spent my entire paycheck on illegal substances, while I
had slept. I made it clear our lives were forever separated. His
only request was that I did not join the military or he would commit suicide. This
thought had never crossed my mind before, but it grew on me. Three days later I was shipping off for basic training. If you
had known me just two weeks prior to enlistment it would not have seemed my
style, some would have even considered me an antiwar animal loving hippy
and it was not very far from the truth.
Basic training was
like being thrown from a warm bed into icy cold waters. It was
pretty obvious from the start that I did not belong, but at least from looks of
disbelief and fear in the eyes of others I was not alone. Drill
Sergeants knew who did and did not belong, and made a point of picking on those
who didn't. It was their jobs to turn undisciplined civilians
into soldiers, and sometimes that required breaking someone down to nothing and
building them back up into something or someone else. Luckily for
me, I really did not have much left to break down and I quickly built back up
into a new more confident person. Although some of my colleagues
back home would consider it unwise to give me a gun, the army found me fit to
fight and I graduated from Basic Training.
After learning what it
meant to be a soldier, we were sent to Advanced Individual Training (AIT). I
joined the army to become an Automated Logistical Specialist, fancy
words for a supply clerk. Advanced Individual Training was designed to teach me
how to perform my job in the Army. AIT was like a college campus, with one big
difference: the drill sergeants. Everyone woke up earlier than dawn for
physical training, and after personal hygiene and breakfast we moved off to
class for the rest of the day. Our weekends were usually free, as long as
everyone followed the rules.
I received my orders
to report to Fort Bliss in El Paso, Texas. El Paso is a city sitting on the
border of Mexico in the middle of the desert. If basic training taught me
anything it was that nothing tastes sweeter than freedom. My first year in the
military consisted of working hard and partying harder, building lifelong
friendships with my fellow soldiers and preparing for the inevitable
deployment.
In the fall of 2009 we
deployed to Kirkuk, Iraq. My unit’s area of operation contained the northern
portion of the country. I was completely lost in the sauce, as were many of my
newly arrived colleagues. We were bombed on our very first night and I will
never forget the feeling of true terror, not knowing if that night would be my
last. I will also never forget the complacency one develops towards the booms
in the night. Work usually kept us more than twelve hours a day, so it was no
surprise that we adjusted to the nightly mortaring, I frequently slept straight
through the loud booms and glaring sirens. Just as I became adjusted to my hard schedule
and surroundings the army reminded me that first and foremost a soldier is an
infantryman and that our Military Occupational Specialty (MOS) came second.
One day I was sitting
on a wooden box in the supply yard smoking with a few of my team members, when
I see my Platoon Sergeant driving a gator truck in our direction. He made the
point that we were sitting on a coffin, and that was bad luck. We were quick to
hop off, and seeing as the mood was ruined we began to walk away. It became apparent that the bad luck would be
mine when my platoon sergeant pulled me aside to talk privately. I had been
voluntold (military slang for you have been mandatorily volunteered) to join a
tank unit to search Iraqi women at checkpoints throughout the city of Kirkuk. I never considered leaving the Forward Operating Base
an option, seeing as my job was considered essential. Within a week I was
outfitted with excessive ammunition and received a refresher course on
searching personnel.
A refresher did not
prepare me mentally for the unique challenges ahead of me. When I was married
with my new platoon, I became all too aware that I was in a man’s world, and
not welcome. Combat MOS soldiers are not
practiced in working with females, and leadership gave strict orders to only
speak to me if it was deemed necessary. Out of fear of reprisal my platoon
would not speak a word to me. Within a week things had relaxed, and it seemed
that only the leadership had a problem with my presence. It took a lot longer
for the Joint Force Task members to speak to me. They were the police officers
of Kirkuk, and their Muslim beliefs forbid them to speak with me. Eventually
with the persuasion of our interpreters and a common love for chai tea even
broke down their barriers. My love for culture overshadowed the fact that we
were sitting at a checkpoint in the middle of the war and at any moment
disaster could strike.
At first I had my reservations
about taking part in a war I did not agree with, but after working with some of
the locals I realized that we actually helped liberate a people known as the
Kurds. The Kurdish is a race of people who originated in Northern Iraq
encompassing portions of Turkey, Syria and Iran; their roots can be traced back
several thousand years. Throughout the
twentieth century hundreds of thousands of Kurds became victims of genocide. Many
escaped to other countries while some stayed and formed a military unit known
as the Peshmerga. The arrival of US troops to Iraq marked a turning point for
the Kurds, and the Peshmerga played an important role in the support of the
Iraq War. Our checkpoints were of no exception, and with the Iraqi Elections on
the horizon our fellow Joint Force Task members began to show their true
colors. In order to stamp out discrimination among the police force, the Iraqi
officers were forbidden to show their allegiance to any particular political
party. In silent protest they would
stuff their party member’s flag in their back pocket. Almost every officer had
a red white and green flag with a blazing sun in the center, the flag of
Kurdistan peeking out of their back pockets.
The interpreters later informed me that the Iraqi team we were coupled
with was actually undercover Peshmerga. This would explain why they were
willing to sit, speak, and drink tea with a woman such as myself.
Being assigned to the
checkpoints was a blessing in disguise, and there was nothing I appreciated
more than meeting the women of Iraq. Due to religious reasons my male
counterparts were forbidden to speak or even look upon an Iraqi woman, and that
is where my job came in. In the process of searching females for explosives I
came upon the unique opportunity to speak with a people who were otherwise
silent and unseen to the world. Most women would dress in black from head to
toe, and in the presence of their men remained completely silent; once
separated it was like night and day, they uncovered their faces and the silence
was broken. After searching my group of females I always stole a few moments to
answer their questions and ask a few of my own. More often than not I was
questioned as to why my family would allow me to come to such a dangerous
place, or if I would marry their sons. They were shocked to find out that I had
the freedom to choose what I did or did not do, and of course I never did
accept a marriage proposal. Election Day marked a turning point for the Iraqi
women, and everyone who filed in to my search area proudly showed a black
finger. For the first time in their lives they were allowed to vote.
By the end of
deployment I am proud to say I was never once shot at, no one tried to blow me
up and I know I made a difference in people’s lives. I will never regret the
sacrifice our soldiers made in Iraq, and although we went there for the wrong
reasons I know some Kurds who will always be grateful that we helped make their
way of life possible. I joined the military to escape my problems, but instead
I learned what real problems are and how to overcome them. By the way, my ex boyfriend never did commit
suicide and is working on becoming a better more sober person far away from me.
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