From Army to Mommy: My Story Part IV
Missed the first part of the story? Start here.
Let’s just call him, “Cowboy.” I met him through a girlfriend, my next door neighbor in the dorm. I’ll never forget our first date that went a little like this:
Me (nonchalantly trying not to study his football physique): You know I’m in ROTC right?
Cowboy: Yeah, that’s cool. My dad was in the military for awhile. He enlisted.
Me: No way! My dad’s in now. I guess we’re both Army brats.
Cowboy: Uh-huh. I think it’s awesome that you’re going to serve our country. I’d love to hear more about what you do in ROTC. Wow, your eyes are beautiful. You’re the most incredible woman I’ve ever met. Want to go out tomorrow?
O.K., so I may be exaggerating our first conversation a bit. The chances of meeting an Army brat at a private Christian Liberal Arts college were pretty slim and my brain turned off after I made that connection. Cowboy escorted me to my first military ball and, of course in only a week or two, I was sure we were made for each other. I pushed aside about a hundred reasons why we weren’t exactly compatible and convinced myself that our common background would keep us together. Two weeks into the summer after our freshman year when I hadn’t received a call from him, I thought, hmmm, he must be busy. After two months with little to no correspondence, I crossed “Mr. and Mrs. Cowboy” out of my journal and broke it off.
Remember what it was like breaking up with someone at nineteen? Cowboy was only my second real boyfriend and my heart told me I’d lost my only chance at a guy that could brave dating an Army girl. I came back to college that fall determined not to make the same mistakes again. Knowing about the Army and wanted to spend your life around it are two very different things. I concentrated on my studies and decided I didn’t come to college to get my M.r.s. My second year of ROTC was substantially harder than the first. Gone were the days of learning left face and forward march. Sophomore year marked my first year of “Ranger Challenge,” an extracurricular addition to my ROTC classes. Although not mandatory, participation in the Ranger Challenge weekly practices and final competition were “highly recommended,” a phrase I would become very familiar with in the military.
Instead of just driving down for my physical fitness sessions in the morning, I also spent my afternoons after Whitworth classes practicing grenade tosses, weapon drills, and rope bridge assembly. My all-female team would practice for two months before competing against other female cadet teams in the Northwest. With over 120 cadets in the Gonzaga ROTC program, only 15 or so were women. I had a few females in my ROTC class, but during Ranger Challenge I spent dedicated time with almost all of the females in the program. I didn’t realize it then but the relationships I built during those practices proved invaluable throughout the rest of my ROTC career.
I remember coming back from those physical practices exhausted and sweaty. Heads would turn as my black boots clicked on the Whitworth dining hall floor and I’m pretty sure I was the only one eating with mud stains all over their clothes. I was definitely the only one in camo. Rangers helped me move from being embarrassed about who I was becoming to pridefully accepting my new role. I have to add the other benefits of my intimidating outfit. Although we became friends later on, the first time I met Cowboy’s new girlfriend, we happened to be in the same area of the dining hall and I caught her uneasily glancing at my muddy t-shirt and rappel rope.
Things were going pretty well that year, despite some nasty rope bridge bruises, and I wish I could say my “no-need-for-a-boyfriend” ideals were holding strong. I was great for about 5 minutes, and then the football team walked by.
To Be Continued…
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