06E047
Growing
up, my brothers (playing soldiers) thought I should play nurse; I suggested
they stuff it. Once refusing the
nomination for class secretary, I ran
for president. During a sixth grade
dance recital, feeling the boy not capable, I took the lead during the
waltz. And in high school, thinking it
unjust that I had to prepare my brother’s lunch, my revenge was hiding hot
peppers in their peanut butter sandwiches.
Following
this attitude, as a young officer in the Air Force, I agreed to become one of
15 female officers to act as Air Training Officers at the Air Force Academy,
experiencing the rigors that the future first female cadets would face. Anticipating entering one of the last
bastions of male domain, I expected the male cadets and officers, at the
Academy, to share my enthusiasm.
During
the first weeks we mock cadets were introduced to the traditions of the
Academy: squat-thrusts, square meals, rifle assembly, and running marches. Interrupting these activities were brief
periods of varied and sundry males screaming at us, illuminating how unwanted
we [women] were at their academy.
I
learned a great deal during that pilot program: I learned it’s possible to
climb up and down a 50-ft pole—crying.
I learned to sleep on top of a bed in
full uniform, and not get one wrinkle.
I learned to begin and end every sentence with sir. I learned that you
should be able to identify poison ivy before
you do ‘number two’ in the
woods. I learned to grab a nap by
feigning fake death during imaginary sieges. I learned that when held captive for hours,
and offered two cans, only one is for drinking
water. I learned that the best food in
C-rations is the sugar packet. I learned that, during training in the
mountains, being resourceful doesn’t
include sharing a bedroll with a male cadet.
I learned that no matter how many pairs of socks you wear, men’s combat boots don’t fit. I learned that a square meal is a meal that never makes it to your mouth; I learned
that square corners are just turns; I
learned that square corners on a top bunk are
impossible. I learned to remove the
socks stuffed behind our windows, to quiet the rattling of the wind, before room inspection, or you should
learn to enjoy squat thrusts. I learned that when they tell you what your
secret mission is you should pay
attention, so during pretend capture
you can quickly confess, and avoid their play
torture.
Those
lessons, as tough as they seemed, were not the most difficult. The harder lessons came with shattering that
invisible barrier—being the first females to enter the Academy. Looking back, my one disappointment is
that I never got to express my appreciation to those hard nose cadets and
officers that made us painfully aware of how very unwelcome we were. I’d like to reconcile that, invite them
over—for one of my special—peanut butter
sandwiches.