Something to Remember

When someone enlists in the Army and goes to BCT, Basic Combat Training, they are expected to learn and memorize a series of phrases, paragraphs, and lists.
An example of some things expected of each soldier to remember are:
--The ArmyValues.
--The Warrior's Ethos.
--The Soldier's Creed.
--The Chain of Command.
--The General Orders (at least the first three)
--The Army Song
--And any song unique to your branch, for example, I was in the Corp. of Engineers, so I needed to learn the Engineers song.

Army Song "The Army Goes Rolling Along"

US Army Engineer Song

MOS Means What?

Something I have encountered time and again throughout my life, are the people who think they know about the military, yet, make the mistake of assuming that joining the military automatically means you will go to the "front lines" and be under constant fire.
What they don't realize, or know, is that there are dozens, if not hundreds of different MOS's, or Military Occupational Specialities, just in the Army alone. Many of the jobs that a future soldier can enlist in do not even have anything to do directly with combat, such as; veterinary technician, dentist, cook, tailor, etc.
The military is so much more than just holding a weapon and shooting at the "enemy," I believe that something so small, as taking the time to learn that there is more than just one ways to serve in the military, is an important facet in the way people look at the men and women who serve our country.

Women we stand, united we fall

To be female in the military is not as simple as wearing skirts with your dress uniforms, or being allowed to keep your hair long. To be female in the military is to open the door to a world filled with danger and a constant need to prove and validate yourself in a "man's world."
While, not all women feel the pressures of being female in the military, some, like myself do. In my short time in the military, both through ROTC and BCT (Basic Combat Training, or "Boot Camp") I have seen the hot-shot females, the ones who are, seemingly, just so damn good at everything that they are placed on a pedestal, and can do no wrong. While others, like myself, find themselves somehow skirting the "exclusive club," that is complete acceptance into military life.
The truth of the matter is, if you are female in the military, you find that no matter how hard you work at something or how well you excel, you always have to be that much better, and work that much harder to be accepted, to be considered equal.
What I have found to be especially true, is that if you can run, and I mean you are a long distance champ, you can make it. If you're a woman and you can't run as fast, as long, or as well, as the guys, you automatically get pushed down the hierarchy ladder, and find yourself struggling to get back up. And don't even think about getting injured, it is considered a disgrace to the military if you, as a female, get injured, because to the males, or to the aforementioned "bad-ass chicks," you are weak, and pathetic, and are a disgrace to the military.
I got injured in Basic, my body essentially started to shut down in protest to how hard I was pushing myself, was I praised for my endurance? Was I given credit for how much harder I pushed, in comparison to the men twice my size, carrying the same weight? No. I was told that I was physically unfit for the military and that I didn't deserve to be there, that that was why I was "being sent" home.
But the truth was, I was only "physically unfit" for the military because as a 5"1 female, I was pushing myself harder than everyone else there, did it matter that I could do more push-ups than most of the men? Or that for nearly an entire week I pushed through the unbearable pain of a torn rotator-cuff, excruciating back-pain, and constant ankle pain, just to avoid seeming weak and going to the doctor? No. All that mattered was that I was a female put on a serious profile (basically a list of things approved and not-approved by a doctor stating what I was and was not allowed to do) and because of that I was a disgrace.
Not all females go through my experience, but all females are automatically categorized, you're either a great runner and placed at the top of the pack, as everything else will come in time, or you're assumed weak and unimportant, then ostracized, criticized, and deemed unwanted.
To be female in the military you must grow a thick skin and realize it will never be easy, you need to rise to the top of the pack or feel yourself be cast out. and even for those who do make it to the top, they have to maintain that peak, rise higher, or find themselves slipping along its slope, as well. It is not easy to be female, but it is those females in the military who are the strongest of the bunch, the ones who have outdone the males, who have proven themselves well beyond "worthy," and who have claimed and guarded their peaks. They are the true strength of the military.

Beautiful War

Growing up in a military family it is a normal thing to go to military hospitals for regular doctor appointment, and seeing the affects of war first-hand, was always just something that went along with the deal. As a young girl I saw the amputees walking, rolling, and sitting throughout the halls of Walter Reed, it was something so routine for me that I never really understood the impact it had on me until I grew up, and grew wiser. It is so easy for people to forget the sacrifices that those, who did not perish on the battlefield, serving our country have made. As someone who grew up around them, I admit that I too was desensitized. As the years went by, and I went off to college, where I was no longer able to go to Walter Reed for my medical appointments, I was able to see things in a new light, with opened eyes, and a new understanding.

Three years ago I moved back to Maryland, and in that I moved back to Walter Reed. Walking the halls of the hospital is a new experience for me, and now when I see the young men and women walking, rolling, and sitting throughout those halls, I am able to identify with them more, not because I had ever lost a limb, or thank god, lost a relative, but, because looking around at those faces I see my friends, my colleagues, and young adults my age.

War is not a pretty thing. It is not as simple as; go, fight, die, or; go, fight, come home whole. It is messy and it is ugly, and those fortunate to come home are never truly whole. While people may respect and even applaud our soldiers, they will never truly understand all that they have sacrificed for our country, until they themselves walk through the halls of a military hospital. Until they themselves see those who walk, roll, and sit throughout its corridors.

Sometimes even those surrounded by the military, and see the underbelly of it's facade, need to take a step back and clean the smog from their eyes, because sometimes the more you surround yourself with something, the less, overtime, you see.

To Jew, or Not to Jew? That Is The Question.

Disclaimer: My post today is in no way meant to bash the military or any of it's members, I am simply relaying my experiences, and those of my family members. Also, while I am speaking predominantly of Jews, and Judaism, I am not ignoring the other major religions, I believe they should also be understood.

Religion in the Army is a belief that tends to either be "found," while serving, or something that becomes obsolete.
To be a Jew in the Army, however, is a challenge all on it's own. Whether it be through interacting with people who are ignorant of the belief system, are intolerant of it, or simply inconsiderate of it, to be Jewish in the American Military is not a simple feat.

Three of the main challenges that my family has come across, as Jews, are those of; anti-Semitics, non-Kosher food, and Holidays. Each one of us, being my father, my brother, and myself, have dealt with at least one of the three in unfortunate circumstances.

I believe that if people choose to devote their lives to defending their country, then their country should put in a little more effort in accommodating them. I am NOT saying that as Jews we deserve any special privileges or attention, but rather that we should get some understanding, and perhaps some Kosher fish or meat in the chow-hall every so often.

As Jews there are essentially three major holidays that are observed more strictly than the rest, if the entire workforce can shut down for Christmas, then surely a few Jews serving in the military get a day off for their own holidays? I'm not asking for much and in fact not all of the holidays require to take an entire day off, as sometimes the holidays fall on a weekend and just the evening before would need to be taken off, resulting in a half-day.

As for Anti-Semitism, unfortunately it is a problem that is not as easily addressed. When my brother was in Basic Training he was the victim of anti-Semitism, but it was not from his fellow privates. No, it was from his Drill Sergeant, one of the men you are meant to look to for guidance and protection. As a private he was unable to stand up and defend himself, and neither would any of his fellow comrades help, because they did not want to risk the ridicule turned on them. Instead, my brother stayed quiet,  he wrote to my father a list of all of the things his Drill Sergeant said and did, such as; calling him vulgar names, ridiculing him in front of the rest of the platoon, and not allowing him to go to his services on Sundays, services which are his right according to military doctrine. After a long process the issue was brought up to the right people, and without going into details, the Drill Sergeant's career was essentially ended.

While I personally did not experience any outward forms of Anti-Semitism, or holds on my services, I experienced the challenges of being Jewish in a different way, through my dietary laws. Every meal, while at Basic Combat Training (BCT), I would walk along the buffet line and look at all of the good food: chicken, fish/seafood, burgers, steak, anything you could want. The only problem was, I could not eat any of it. Often times I would order the fish entree's, believing I would be safe in my choice, only to find out it was catfish, or some other non-Kosher fish, and I would have to put my fork down and slide my meal away.

I understand that Kosher food is more expensive than the "cheap stuff," and that the Army cannot cater to the one Jewish girl who actually follows the dietary laws, but the least they could do, beyond labeling the fish, is ensure that they always have some sort of vegetarian option available, an issue I came across a few times.

I love the Army and I love being Jewish, I just wish I didn't have to compromise one for the other. There have been many times I came across people who had never even met a Jew and especially never thought they would see one in the Army. While, I know the Army cannot adhere to all of the dietary or religious laws of Judaism, the least they can do is to create a class on religion. A class that would enlighten everyone, not just the Army, on the many faces that make up the U.S. Military, so that our military can truly be brothers, and sisters, in arms. A military where we all understand one another.

The incident.

Sometimes, when telling a story, it's best to not always start at the beginning, but rather to just let your fingers type the words of the memories that first come to mind. For me, the first memory that comes to mind, takes me back to my freshman year of college. The year was 2009 and I was a newly admitted freshman to Boston University, but mine was not to be a typical freshman experience. When I was admitted to BU, I knew that my college experience would be different from the get-go, because I was the recipient of a full four-year scholarship through the Army ROTC program.
While I had grown up in a military family, my father having been in the Army for forty years, I was not as prepared as I thought I would be, something which would become extremely apparent on October 1, 2009. Before getting into my "incident" I would like to go back to the beginning of my year, it was roughly August 26 when I had to choose between going to my college orientation or my ROTC orientation, needless to say, being the Military child that I am, I chose the latter, quite ecstatically I might add, as I wasn't too thrilled about the University's orientation, as I presumed it would be boring. I would later find out, that with the exception of getting a free shirt, I was right.
I went on my ROTC orientation, excited for the events to come. The orientation turned out to be a weekend away at Ft. Devons, MA, approximately two hours from the University. It was a great chance to meet some of the other cadets, and the cadre members, while being introduced to the world we had all chosen to participate in.
It all started out great for me, I found a lot of the tasks to be rather easy and straightforward and had no trouble catching on to the D&C, or Dress and Ceremony (the Sentinel’s Change of Guard is one of the most precise and extreme forms), which is essentially a fancy name for learning all of the marching orders, and found that I excelled in fire-arms training.
While the first two days of my orientation were "fun," the fun was not to last. The final day of our orientation we were to have a practice APFT, or Army Physical Fitness Test, a test where you have to do push-ups, sit-ups, and run 2-miles, being in fairly good shape I thought I had nothing to worry about, come the push-up/sit-up portions I was feeling pretty confident in my abilities, having done better than the other three females who joined the freshman class with me, however, my issues came with the run.
Let's just say I struggled. That struggle was one that persisted, no matter how much I ran, and no matter how well I would run on my own, or as a practice, when the real APFT's came around I would hardly make it to the end. Needless to say, some people looked down on me for it, and it didn't matter that I had the best Push-up form, or that I could whip 'em out faster than some of the other cadets, in my class and older, all that seemed to matter was that I couldn't run.
Fast forward to October 1, 2009, it was another APFT and I wanted to contract, which means my contract for my scholarship would get activated, the only way to do that was to pass the APFT at the minimum requirements of scoring a 60 out of 100 in each of the three categories, all that was standing in my way, or rather should I say running out of my way, was that dreaded two-miler, but I felt ready for it.
When the time came, I ran. I huffed and I puffed, I concentrated on the ponytail of the girl in front of me, staying right behind her for pacing, and I ran, I was about a mile-and-a-half in when the pain sprang up. But I wasn't about to stop, I couldn't, I wouldn't, and I never have, so I kept going, through the pain in my ankles, I ran, and I finished, not only did I finish, but I passed, and I contracted, and I was so proud of myself.
But then I sat down. When I stood back up, I fell down to my seat, the pain in my ankles wasn't as minor as the small sprains I thought they were, something that I admittedly had been prone to, but that had never caused me much concern, they'd come and go in a matter of minutes, but this pain wasn't the same, it was persistent and it was debilitating.
I set an appointment for the doctor.
That was when it all went down-hill for me. I ended up going to the doctor multiple times over the course of the semester, finally getting X-Rays and MRI's. The results of those tests showed that I had royally messed up my ankles; I was diagnosed with Tendonitis, Tenosynovitis, Edema in my feet, and Bursitis. A lot of fancy words to say I had a LOT of inflammation all throughout my ankles and feet, so much so that the doctor asked me to be on my feet as little as possible, essentially he wanted me to be on bed rest. Well, instead of that, I took medication, went to physical therapy and was placed on a profile. A profile is a sheet of paper that your doctor fills out saying you have X, Y, and Z and that based on that you are not allowed to do this, but are allowed to do that. Well, I wasn't allowed to run.
In ROTC if you can't run, and are supposed to not bear weight on your feet/ankles, you might as well not show-up, people start to look down on you, and even worse, sometimes some people will think you're faking. Needless to say, I was slowly ostracized by my peers, and looked down upon by my superiors.
But, being my father's daughter, I sucked it up, and did the best I could, once I got the doctors OK, to start lightly jogging again I took it in stride, and tried to do everything I could to get back in running shape and be better than I was. I tried hard, and did the best I could, sometimes I failed, and other times I succeeded.
But then, it happened again, my ankles objected, and I was put back on profile, unable to run, and unable to participate in many of the activities, always having to play the casualty or the enemy in our drills, and not getting the opportunity to learn as much, or be with my peers in security circles, as I wanted to. It got to the point, where the ROTC did not want to give me my scholarship for the second semester, but in true military fashion we fought them, won, and then decided that the best course of action for me, would be to leave my dream school to go live with my father (who had to leave my mother and brother, who needed to finish high school, in MD, while he was stationed in California) so I did. I said goodbye to my friends, packed-up and left. I never went back.
The point of my telling this story, is not for pity, nor for people to snark at me and judge me, but rather to show the military values I had ingrained in me as a child, perseverance and to never give up. While, I never went back to BU, I never forgot all that I learned while in my one year of ROTC, and I still feel a deep sense of pride for having been a part of it, whether you make it through or not, whether you're the best at something or not, I still believe that ROTC can offer everyone something. The military is such a different world, living by different values, and with a sense of family built in,  even though some of my peers were rude and hurtful, they were still my family, and I still always felt a sense of connection to them.
To me that is what the military is about, it's a family no matter where you go, or where you are, even now walking around campus at my new school, Salisbury University, I still feel that sense of camaraderie and family when I see the Cadets and Cadre members on campus, and to me, that was one of the biggest gifts ROTC helped me to realize, a gift that I had been give since birth. I leave you with this, always remember that even in the worst of situations, when it seems like nothing could be worse, there is still something to make it worth it, and something to take away from the situation.
Don't focus on the bad things in life, rather take them in stride and use them as stepping stones to help you get where you want to be.