My Small War

I wanted to share some stories with everyone. I have been doing a lot of research as of late on rape/sexual harassment/assault in the military. A lot of the statistics are hard to find, probably something swept under the rug for a while.75-85% of accused rapists get HONORABLY discharged. Anyway. I was talking/ranting with some of the other women that I work with about harassment, and how the cases of rape/assault in deployed areas are staggering and underreported. We’re scared of our soldiers when we’re fighting for our country? That doesn’t make sense, but it can be true.

Almost every woman I work with has been harassed in some form in her military career. During my first deployment to Iraq my HGFL (Home Girl for Life), Lewy woke up to a man standing over her bed. (After she found shorts, she chased him with a 9mm, too bad she didn’t catch him.) Turns out he was this creep I told to eff-off at the gym. He must have followed us to our building. (I never liked when he was near us, he stared up my shorts when I was benching, all creepy-weirdo like.) She reported it, and since he never actually touched her, NOTHING happened. Our commander (A civilian sex crimes Detective) tried to explain the importance of him getting brought up on charges to the upper echelons, but notta. I think towards the end of the tour they caught him walking in on more female soldiers and he had to be permanently escorted by 2 guards, and his weapons got taken away. Whether or not he was punished under UCMJ, I have no idea. I am going to put that on the list of “Reasons Why I Will NEVER Re-Enlist.”

As if being in combat wasn’t bad enough, we had to deal with a bunch of assholes, always asking us if we knew how to use our machine guns because we bleed from between the legs. Awesome job representing freedom and equality fellas. It’s no wonder why we’re not making best friends with other countries.

During my Iraq tour, I convinced a crusty old Master Tank Driver (more like bothered the shit out of and wouldn’t leave alone) to teach me how to drive a tank and function as a crew member. I received the license for an M1 A2 SEP (Heavy) Abrahams, on Jan 7, 2005, my 20th birthday. Go Me. After a failed attempt to use me as a crew member, I was henceforth banned from EVER working in the tank motor pool again, and threatened with UCMJ if caught doing so. The ever vigilant instructor was stripped of his master driver title. Soon rumors spread like high school that I had fucked my way into a tank license. Geez if only women thought of that sooner. We could have all fucked our way to controlling the entire world by now. Ahh, Cunt, the anatomical jewel.

Now: for my most serious part of this writing. I recently was blabbering about all my research and stories to a newfound woman/soldier friend. I was going on about rape statistics and the need for a Women’s Center on the Post we live on, and crisis hotlines, etc. My small revolution.

This was her experience; she was raped by a fellow soldier. She didn’t tell me all the grueling details; she didn’t wish to re-live it again in her mind. When she did report it to her first line supervisor, he told her she “brought it on.” He told her she was responsible because she was a “flirt.” Fuck’n A. I wish his balls were in a vice grip. (I was the only other person she told, a year later.) The intrusion doesn’t end here though. She went home to her husband and conceived. After she had her child, she received phone calls and emails from her attacker. “Does she look like me?” He called at all times of night. I hope he dies of something very uncomfortable and publicly visible. I urged her to tell someone else, and told her I would be there for her whenever.

Silence is NOT golden. This morning she whispered to me, she took the first step, she told her husband. At first he was a little uncertain of what to think, but now I think he is supportive. She is so brave. My 5 foot nothing hero. I want make her something pink and girly; to let her know how much I admire her. She just saved one of us.I am so happy I could be part of her healing process.

I need to share those stories because whenI shared mine with her it gave her courage.