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By Alyssa, April 4, 2012 3:17 pm

Missed the beginning of my sometimes story, sometimes soap opera?  Start here.

Senior Year.  Oh the anticipation that led up to my final year of ROTC.  I sweated, stumbled, and pushed the first three years of ROTC feeling like I didn’t know what I was talking about.  Sure, I was an Army brat, but the Gonzaga program was pretty intense and known for producing the best of the best.  I didn’t feel like the best of the best struggling through tactics and military operations.  I’ll never forget  during a Spring tactical exercise the end of my Junior year taking my entire squad the wrong way and exposing everyone to enemy fire.

I learned from my mistakes, however, and proved at Advanced Camp against other ROTC cadets across the nation that I actually knew more than I thought.  I was commended.  I came back to school feeling, well, confident.  O.K., I’ll be honest.  I was cocky.  Ever heard the saying, pride comes before the… you know what. It seemed my fellow senior ROTC classmates didn’t enjoy my new-found attitude.  They started to rib me, joke, at every turn there were two cadets in particular that thought I needed a good razzing every time they saw me.  They wanted me to fall.

At first this was no big deal.  I wore headgear orthodontics all through Junior High and was attuned to good old fashioned teasing.  Then it started to grate on me.  There were remarks about my uniform, put-downs for attending Whitworth College full time unlike the majority of the Gonzaga ROTC cadets, and more.  Feeling a little emotional one fall evening, I told my roommates about some of the stuff these two particular cadets were saying to me.  ”Uncalled for!” they said.  ”You have got to report it.  You shouldn’t have to put up with them.”  So I did.

The reprimand was a slap in the face to these two guys and I came to realize that for one it was joking but for the other it was something far worse and he made sure that I knew it.  After P.T. (physical training) one morning only a few days after they were told by the Professor of Military Science (Head of the ROTC Department) to knock it off, they pulled me aside.

“Hey, I didn’t realize you were offended,” said the first with true concern.  ”We were just giving you a hard time.”  He tried to continue but his buddy took over, “Next time you have an issue, why don’t you have the guts to come to me.”  He sneered as he got into my face, “You think you’re on top of things now that you’re back from camp but you have to know that we carried you through exercises last year.  I practically spoon fed you tactics.”  Standing a little taller, I interrupted, “You didn’t do the work I did.  Sure, I had questions when we had to work together, but that doesn’t mean…”  Before I could finish he continued to berate me.  I was worthless, he said.  I didn’t know a thing, he said.  Further and further he pushed into my face until I had enough.  ”I’m done with this,” I yelled back at him before turning to go back to my car.

It was a full minute of driving before it hit me, all the insecurity I had before crashed, and I started to cry. Blubber cry, probably should have pulled the car over kind of cry.  Puffy faced I sobbed my way home. Looking back now, I’m glad I turned in those two guys, but I learned a valuable lesson.  First, confidence has to be paired with humility (a lesson I’m still learning).  I’m not going to say I asked for their treatment, but I wasn’t making thing any easier on myself with my attitude.

Secondly, I should have come to them first and told them their harassment was inappropriate prior to formally reporting them.  I think, had I given him a heads up, the nicer of the two would have stopped immediately.  I later found out he followed me home that morning just to make sure I would make it back to Whitworth alright as he could see how upset I was.  The other guy was just a straight up jerk, but the right thing would have been to tell him that before I whined to the chain of command.

Things settled into a rhythm after the shouting match that morning and the jerk and I did our best to avoid each other.  We both had bigger things to concentrate on anyway.  It was time for all the ROTC seniors to fill out their commissioning packets.  We had to complete a priority list of branches (job positions) and posts (Army unit locations).  I had two lists in my head and there was only one person who could confirm them. Would I be prioritizing my future in the Army with my boyfriend of two years or without him?

To be continued…

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By Alyssa, June 25, 2011 10:45 pm

Start here.

I gripped my arms around Haus pressing my face against his chest to block out the Seattle terminal bustle. “Three weeks,” I muffled with a sigh into his shirt.  Pulling back I asked again, “Why do I want to go to the East Coast?”  He smiled down at me and brushed my hair behind my ear.  ”You’ve never been, remember?” The gate agent announced last boarding call and I stiffened with a new flood of tears.  ”I’ll miss you so much,” I said before kissing him and dragging myself to the plane.

I squeezed into the airline seat and tried to remember my day.  A month of training ended with a ROTC Advanced Camp graduation in the morning, lunch with Dad and Haus after, hugs farewell and good luck from Dad, then four blissful hours alone with Haus.  Now onto my next commitment.  When I signed up for the cadet exchange program in the spring, I thought, why not go to Virginia?  My only time further east than Utah was spent in the fifth grade when my family took a trip to Disneyworld in Orlando.  Florida’s not really the East Coast though.

I felt tears pool again as I stared down at my jeans and almost dipped into a “I miss Haus” pity party when the passenger in the next row distracted me.  He was about my age I guessed with a high and tight haircut and brown Army t-shirt barely visible under his collared shirt.  Must be a ROTC cadet like me, I thought.  It was pretty apparent that the entire time I was snuggled up to my Haus wishing the clock would tick slower, this dude was consuming all of alcohol he missed out on during the month long Advanced Camp.  I laughed a little despite myself as he drawled on about the intricicies of the Apache helicoptor to the passenger next to him.  Hard to have a pity party when you’ve got that dude drawling on.  I closed my eyes and let the whiskey fumes waft around me before finally falling asleep.

Virginia was hot and sticky as I departed the bus with my fellow exchange cadets for our hotel rooms.  Smart Alyssa, I thought as the heat and insect buzz enveloped me. Virginia in July.  The Cadet Troop Leader Training program or CTLT paired recent Advanced Camp graduates with Army Lieutenants for job shadowing. My participation in CTLT mean following a 2nd Lieutenant at the Fort Eustis, Virginia Transportation Advanced Individual Training (AIT) school for three weeks.  It sounded pretty cool on paper when I first received my assignment.  I imagined studying a Platoon Leader in action, seeing how the Army really worked. In reality, the LT I was shadowing was on leave, some Captain AIT commander didn’t really have time to teach anything, and the Drill Sergeants assigned to the company had enough on their hands with the Privates right out of Basic.  Oh boy.

On the positive side of things, I quickly learned the ins and outs of an Army chow hall (Hey troop, you ain’t eatin’ in here with them flip flops), found out I run pretty well in humidity (while my clothes retain sweat in humidity even better), and got my first taste of an East Coast summer (ate a variety of bugs).  Without a car, I was pretty much stuck.  Thank goodness I wasn’t the only stuck one.  A friend of mine from Advanced Camp also found himself “shadowing” for a different company on Fort Eustis AND had family close.  One of my weekends off, he and his brothers took me to Virginia Beach and then the next weekend he took a few of us stranded cadets to Washington D.C., my first time at the Capital.

I did what I could to help time pass during the week by working out, asking the Drills questions during training time, trying not to annoy the busy AIT commander, and writing letters to Haus.  I had my own hotel room with a phone which was a huge improvement from talking to Haus on the pay phones next to the barracks during my camp training.  I remember one night in particular leaning back on my pillow and hanging up the phone after a late session of me goobering to him about how much I missed him.  The Army stuff was easier with him, I thought, easier to handle when I could vent to him, easier to go through when I knew how proud he was of me.  I stared up at the ceiling as my air conditioner hummed.

Yikes, I thought suddenly sitting up in bed.  I think I always want him there… which means… he’s the one?

To be continued…

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By Alyssa, January 27, 2011 9:55 pm

Start here.

As quickly as my junior year began, it was over. Done.  I survived.  It was tough stuff, but the lessons I learned that year, I hold tightly even today.  I found out despite the many great commitments calling to me, saying yes to all of them makes for a disaster.  My hardest year of ROTC, school, and R.A. duties was too much for one year.  I also learned that Haus was in it for the long run.  He didn’t head the other direction when my life was too stressful even for me.  He stuck with me.  He’s been doing that for almost twelve years.

Now for a quote, “Junior year was a blur and by far one of the most stressful times of my life.  God got me through it though… when I was emotionally and physically and mentally exhausted, God taught me the power of prayer.”  I would be remiss if I didn’t include that journal entry from the beginning of my senior year.  You see, there was nothing I could do to make it through all the challenges I had that year.  I could try and worry and try and then worry some more but that just left me tired.  It took me until almost the end of the year before I realized I could stress all I wanted to, but God had my back the whole time and wanted me to trust that fact.  I started praying fervently that I would trust Him, completely, and stop worrying about things out of my control.  I prayed that He would replace my anxiety with his confidence.  It was the only way I could survive, especially with what was ahead.

I celebrated the completion of my junior year with a trip to Hawaii, courtesy of my parents.  The best part? Haus came too!  We played for a week and then I was off to Fort Lewis, Washington and Advanced Camp (I think the kids are calling it the Leader Development and Assessment Course these days).  Advanced Camp, or LDAC now, is the culminating physical and mental test for ROTC cadets.  I arrived at the old Fort Lewis World War II barracks in the middle of June 2000, ready to complete five weeks of assessments.

I was nervous.  Up to that point, I’ll be honest, I didn’t think I really fit in the ROTC club.  My peers at Gonzaga seemed to have it all together while I was constantly asking what seemed to be stupid questions.  It was quite a shock to me, you see, when I graduated at the top of my Advanced Camp platoon.  I competed with ROTC cadets all over the nation and found that I kinda knew what I was talking about.  I know, I know. I was just a cadet at the time and didn’t really know what the real Army was about but I was trying.

I remember riding on the bus sitting near one of the oldest, crustiest Jump Master combat paratroopers I’ve met to this day.  Eyeing me as I made notes reminding myself of my next assessment tasks, he said, “Syme (my maiden name), are you always doing that?  Always plannin’?”  I looked up from my notes and said, “Yes, Sergeant.  I figure if I’m not at 100% then I’ll let somebody down.”  I looked back at my notes thinking A. I am a super nerd, why did I just say that? and B. was he just complimenting me or making fun of me? Looking out the window, he commented, “Your soldiers will be lucky to have you as an officer someday.” Trying not to beam, I nodded and turned away.  It’s a compliment I continue to hold dear.

The training I spent three years in ROTC preparing for was finally done and I had succeeded.  Haus (as he is from Seattle) and my dad (who flew in from Idaho) were in the stands as I marched in formation and was finally released from my first Army school.  Dad was kind enough to leave me with Haus after signing me out after graduation.  I only had six precious hours with him before boarding another plane to the East Coast and my next Army ROTC adventure.

To be continued…

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By Alyssa, January 26, 2011 10:57 pm

The beginning is here.

I know I sounded like a super whiner in my last edition of this horrifically drawn out story of me.  Give me a little break, though.  Every minute of my life my junior year from 5 a.m. to way too late was packed with physical challenges, loads of schoolwork, and R.A. duties.  Instead of trying to reword all of the drama I recorded in my journal that year, I decided I would give you a little taste of it.  Prepare yourself as I wrote this never intending anyone but myself to read it again:

10/17/99, Idaho on Fall Break: Haus, before I got on the plane Friday, told me that someday he thought he would marry me.  He said it, not to scare me or forewarn me that he would be proposing, but rather to tell me exactly how he was feeling about me… I’m scared, but don’t want him to slip away.

10/21/99, College dorm room: I’ve come to realize that genuine people will talk to me like I have civilian clothes on when I’m in uniform and others react just the opposite… I will have people salute me (extrememly annoying on campus when you’ve had 50 people do this in about an hour, each person thinking they’ve been creative), call me “Killer”, “Army Chic”, “G.I. Jane”, ask how many people I’ve killed, how many push-ups I can do, or assume I know everything about guns and tanks… It’s amazing how many false assumptions are hooked to this outfit.

10/22/99, College dorm room: The one thing you don’t want in the Army is to stand out.  It’s a hard thing for girls as we automatically stand out.  No matter what we do we are the minority… This is hard.  As a girl in ROTC, I know that I have to push myself.  I get mad at myself for not running as fast as the guys even though it isn’t naturally very possible.  I get frustrated by little mistakes because I don’t want to set myself lower.  I feel like I’m not being clear… I struggle so much with perfectionism and being in the Army as a female doesn’t help.  I hold myself at a higher standard then they ever could.  I’m so hard on myself.

10/23/99, College dorm room: Haus helped ease my stress.  He’s pretty much consistently giving my situation to me straight out.  I need his calm to cancel out my crazy.

11/12/99, During American Lit class: I haven’t had a break in I don’t know how long.  I feel rushed, depressed, horrible… Having ten less hours in the day than I need, always having things to do, never having free time EVER, always feeling rushed, waiting for that next surge of energy… ROTC is killing me.  They say they put school first, but that’s a lie.  They don’t care what your work load is, it will make you stronger right? Being a Resident Assistant is horrible. I can’t tell if my girls think I’m awful or if they never see me or what. School is rough… of those three things I feel like if I concentrate on one, the other two fall.  I feel like everyone around me is doing fine, excelling, and I’m alone.

11/22/99, College dorm lounge: It’s still so hard to have my best friend gone.  Didn’t she deserve to go, be with her boyfriend after a two year long-distance thing?  Can’t imagine how miserable that was.  But, she’s the only best friend I’ve ever had.  I tell her everything.  She’s my accountability, my moral support, my sister, and I am still brokenhearted.

12/23/99, Idaho on Christmas break: Well, one semester down, sort of.  The reason I’m not completely done is because I got the flu during finals week.  Had a cough that led to a fever that led to the night from HELL! My suite mates decided to have a party next to my room and I warned them to shut-up but was really groggy as they kind of laughed at me.  By midnight, I had 104 degree fever, stumbled out to rant rave and yell GET OUT, then fell asleep till 1 a.m.  Got sick, pulled the bathroom door over my foot and ended up pulling 3/4 of my toenail off.  Went to bed so tired, bleeding, got sick again.  RD ended up helping me get dressed and got checked out for a possible appendicitis.  Embarrassing as it was just the flu.  Found out later after missing a few finals that one of my professors announced to the entire class that I was in surgery.  So that was finals week.

1/31/00, College dorm room: Happy New Year!  Contrary to many predictions, nothing happened at midnight this New Year’s Eve… Haus is amazing.  Brought me long stemmed roses for no reason… thought about what it would be like if I waited to be together until I was out of the Army.  Then he left for the weekend and couldn’t stand a day without him.

To be continued…

Special thanks to Linda Lawrence Hunt, for requiring me to document my junior year in a journal.

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By Alyssa, January 18, 2011 10:02 pm

To start at the very beginning, click here.

It was about midway through the first semester of my Junior year that I started to realize I may have over committed myself.  My classes were great, but a writing degree means lots of writing which takes lots of time.  I liked getting a little extra pay as a Resident Assistant, but realized I didn’t have the energy to listen to one.more.break-up.story.  Let’s face it.  I’m not super sensitive and felt like I was letting down the newbie college girls that wanted me to do girlie things with them.  Haus was just as swamped so fitting in time together meant meals or studying.  Hmmm, actually not sure I ever got studying done with him.

To understand my stress, you have to understand the levels of responsibility in ROTC.  Freshmen are minions, Sophomores are fetchers, and Juniors are evaluated for directing the fetchers and minions in simulated combat situations.  Seniors evaluate the mayhem while NOT wearing a Kevlar helmet.  My junior year was full of evaluations as a “company commander” or “platoon leader”, both in the field and in garrison (every day stuff) that count towards my final ranking and placement in the Army upon graduation.  Also required during my junior year was participation in Ranger Challenge.  I already gave you the details of what Ranger Challenge was all about so I’ll skip to when Ranger Challenge got the best of me.

Tired.  When I arrived at the Eastern Washington University campus in October to compete with my team of ROTC women, my fatigue from an already grueling semester was just catching up with me.  Despite my weariness, my grenade tossing and M-16 assembly and dis-assembly went well in the beginning of the competition.  Side note, I do distinctly remember farting right next to the evaluator when I heaved my last grenade across the football field.  He just barely cracked a smile, but didn’t say a word.  At the rope bridge competition (ten women, two telephone poles simulating trees across a ravine, one rope to get across), I was the “far side” which meant running across the field and tying a rope to the telephone pole across from my team, then hauling them each off of the rope as the inched their way across the suspended line.

I had confidently rocked three of the four events and decided at the start of the 10K Ruck run, to dump some of my water out of my canteens to be a little lighter.  Sigh… did I mention we were running this 10K as a team with loaded backpacks on black pavement and it was unusually hot that morning?  About two miles in I realized I might be a bit dehydrated, three miles to go I started to dry heave, and at the end I was pretty sure I was hallucinating  The girl behind me grabbed the back of my ruck as I weaved in formation and literally pushed me to the end..

At the finish line, I must not have been looking so hot as I fumbled through the items in my ruck to show the evaluator I had packed everything necessary.  Before I knew it I was in the medic tent watching some inexperienced “medic” soldier try to put an IV in my arm.  Might have been the third or fourth try that I went into shock.  Shaking uncontrollably one of our ROTC officers yelled for an ambulance and I’m not sure what else happened except me begging the paramedic to please, please, get a vein with that needle.

Long story short, I took my body to a point of complete exhaustion.  After I had intravenously ingested five IV bags of fluid in the hospital, my color came back.  Almost a heat stroke young lady, the nurse chided me as I got dressed and prepared to go home.  My ROTC advisor drove me back to the dorm, helped me up to my floor, and my roommates were given strict instructions to check on me periodically for consciousness.  Finally catching a glance of myself in my room mirror, I saw my yellowed skin was blotched and accented by black dark circles under my eyes.  Quite the look, I thought, as I fell face down into my bed.

My E.R. trip was just the first of a serious of unfortunate events as I struggled to stay afloat with far too many responsibilities.

To be continued…