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  “Sir, may I make a statement?”

  “It better be good!”

  “Sir, I’m delivering this package to Cadet Jackson in B-1.”

  “So? I’ll ask again, what the hell are you doing, Beanhead?”

  “Sir, I believe B-1 is on the third floor of this building.”

  “You aren’t from around here, are you, Smack?”

  “No, Sir.”

  “Next time you come to this part of the woods, you better get your shit together first.”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  “Now get outta here.”

  “Yes, Sir.” Jan executed an about face and began descending the stairs.

  “What the hell are you doing now?”

  “I’m leaving, Sir.”

  “Not on my stairwell, you’re not. Get off my stairwell and go find your own stairwell.”

  “Yes, Sir.” Jan ran back up to the third floor and began pinging down the corridor. Given that she had made it this far, she decided to look for “Jackson” on the doors. After two complete rotations, she spotted the name. She approached the door and knocked.

  “Come in.” Jan pushed open the door.

  Every cadet room looked the same. A sink counter with laundry bins below and a mirrored cabinet above stood just inside the door on one wall. Usually two beds flanked either side of the room with two desks located just behind the beds facing the door. Cadet Jackson sat behind his desk. Before entering the room, she said, “Sir, I have a package from Cadet Dogety for you.”

  “Bring it here.” He lifted his left hand and waved his fingers, motioning her to come toward him. Jan walked the length of the room coming to Jackson's desk. She set the package down and turned to leave. “Stand fast, Wishart.”

  Jan faced him again about three feet from his desk. “How’s it going over in H-3, Miss Wishart?”

  “It’s going fine, Sir.”

  “They’re probably way too easy on you over there. Here in B-1, things are different for our beanheads, female beanheads in particular.”

  Jackson stood up and walked to his door, closing it. Oh no, here we go. “Sir, I’m going to report you if you even come near me. I’m leaving now, Sir.” She headed toward the door.

  Jackson folded his arms across his chest and stood in her way, blocking the exit. Jan narrowed her eyes and tightened her lips in a line. She looked straight at Jackson and said, “Sir, if you don’t let me pass, I will scream, and then I will kick you in the balls.”

  “No need to get all worked up, Miss Wishart, I just want to have a private conversation with you. Since you sauntered over here to Boys-1, I’m going to inform you about our policies regarding females.”

  For Christ’s sake, asshole!

  “First of all, no one here cares if you scream. No one here is going to come to your rescue. Besides, you cannot scream your way out of combat, can you, Miss Wishart?” His brown eyes bored into her and she remembered where she had seen them before. They looked just like the eyes on the German Shepherd that bit her in eighth grade. “Just exactly why are you here, Miss Wishart?”

  “Sir, I delivered your package.” She decided to try to end this peaceably.

  “No, I mean, why are you HERE? Is it to prove something? Is it for notoriety? Is it to find a husband?”

  With his arms still folded across his chest, Jan felt some measure of safety. “I’m here for the same reasons you are, Sir.”

  “Do you think you can go to war with me, Wishart? Do you think I can count on you in combat to fulfill the mission?” His lower lip tightened. “I’m here to be an Army officer and to fight for my country. I might even die for my country. Do you really think I want to worry about whether or not you need a shower or sanitary napkins or birth control on the battlefield?”

  Jan didn’t answer.

  Jackson lowered his voice, “You should think about that, Wishart. You should think about the fact that you took a spot away from some guy who can fight and die along side me. You should think about what it means to be an officer in the United States Army.” He unfolded his arms. Jan immediately took a step backwards. Surprisingly, he turned and opened his door, “Now get the hell out of my Company.”

  When Jan brushed past him, he slammed his door shut.

  She still had to find the plebe stairwell. Move with a purpose. Moving quickly was critical to avoiding attention, so she pinged along the corridors, making one more rotation on the third floor before ducking into the women’s latrine. Another plebe was washing her hands in the sink. Jan whispered to her classmate, “Where’s the plebe stairwell?” Her classmate wisely kept the water running while whispering the directions to Jan. “Thanks,” Jan said, “and stay far, far away from Jackson.” She pinged out of that building as fast as she could.

  Safely back in Central Area, she sighed a breath of relief. Okay, so why AM I here again? She often asked herself why she came and why she stayed. Jackson’s confrontation only caused her to renew the questioning in her own mind. She didn’t agree with him, of course. She knew the Army had plenty of roles for women and should probably have more. She knew, fundamentally, that a government-funded college should be open to everyone. She knew women had as much a right to be at West Point as men. But the debate that raged inside her was if SHE should be there. Should she stick it out, miserable as she was, or was it time to throw in the blanket?

  Then she remembered that all plebes are miserable at West Point.

  15

  Friday, May 7, 1982

  1300 hours

  “Jan came back to the room at least twice, in-between trips to Jackson’s room.” Kristi continued her testimony. “Cadet Trane and I were both there. Every time we saw Jan, she was sweating from pinging back and forth. She was also getting sick and tired of the nonsense.” Kristi looked empathetically at Jan. “I told her she should report the whole thing to the CO, but she wouldn’t do it. She always felt it was better to just suck it up. That’s what Dogety always told her.”

  “Cadet McCarron,” Gaskins, from Second Regiment, spoke up, “did you see Cadet Wishart leave the routing envelope in your room at any point while she went to the latrine or anywhere else?”

  “No, Sir. She did use the latrine, but she took the envelope with her. She even said something like, ‘I can’t let this out of my sight.’”

  “So no one in your room that night could have possibly changed the contents of the routing envelope?” Conrad asked.

  “No, nobody in our room touched it and Jan never opened the envelope either,” Kristi stated.

  “How can you know that, Miss McCarron?” Cadet Seymour asked.

  “Because we asked her what was inside. And she said she didn’t have any idea. If Jan had even peeked inside, she would have said so. She would have said, ‘It’s some drunken love notes between Jackson and Dogety,’ or something like that.”

  “Miss McCarron, I have warned you once already. I won’t say it again or you will face a regimental disciplinary board. You will use respectful language when speaking about your superiors. Do I make myself perfectly clear?” Conrad laid down the law.

  “Yes, Sir.” Kristi glanced at Jan.

  Oh Kissy, don’t be too sassy—or they will definitely find me guilty by association!

  “Good. Now tell us what you witnessed after she came back the third time from Cadet Jackson’s room.” Conrad pushed on, still trying to wrap everything up before the weekend if possible.

  “Well, Jan seemed relieved to have found a way out of the courier business. When she came back to the room, about 2030 hours, she said that Jackson wasn’t in his room, so she left the routing envelope leaning against his door. She felt happy that the exercise was over. But about twenty minutes later, both Dogety and Jackson showed up at our door demanding to see Jan in the CQ room right away.”

  “And how long was she gone? About?” Cadet Tourney asked.

  “She came back to the room at almost 2200 hours. I remember looking at the clock,” Kristi said. “She was sweating
again and looked exhausted. She said they accused her of taking their notes and writing another one. She said Jackson was ‘in her face,’ screaming and yelling at her.”

  “Did she say what was written on the new note?” Conrad asked.

  “She didn’t have any idea what was written on anything. She hadn’t looked in the envelope at any time. She even thought they were screwing with her again, because they were both drunk, she figured they were just messing with her.”

  “Did she tell you that Cadet Jackson wanted her to report to his room the next morning?” Cadet Leavitt asked.

  “Yes, Sir. She was pissed about it. She felt like she had made enough trips to his room already. And she was pissed at Dogety for allowing this whole thing to go on so long.”

  Go easy on the “pissed” part, Kissy!

  “Anyway, she got up at o’dark thirty the next morning and went to Jackson’s room.”

  “When did she return?” Cadet Tourney asked.

  “Well, she was not back when Angel and I left the room to deliver newspapers, about 0545 hours. But I saw she made it to breakfast formation,” Kristi said, confirming Jan’s statement.

  “Did you see Miss Wishart at any other time that morning?” Cadet Conrad asked.

  “We both had classes right after breakfast until lunch. I saw her briefly before lunch formation. Then I didn’t see her again until we went back to the room after classes to change for athletics,” Kristi said.

  “And when you saw her, did you notice anything different about her appearance?” Conrad asked again.

  “No, Sir, I didn’t notice anything. But I wasn’t looking for anything either.”

  “The point is, you didn’t see anything unusual about Cadet Wishart’s appearance that morning or afternoon, correct?” Conrad clarified.

  “No, Sir, I didn’t,” Kristi said softly.

  It’s okay, Kissy. It wasn’t that obvious.

  16

  “Upon the fields of friendly strife are sown the seeds that upon other fields, on other days, will bear the fruits of victory....”

  General Douglas MacArthur

  The gym converted into an obstacle course with low bars, vault horses, flat and hanging tires, an eight-foot shelf, three levels of balance beams, an eight-foot horizontal wall, monkey bars and dangling, thick ropes. This perennial torture chamber, known as the Indoor Obstacle Course Test (IOCT) became the new nemesis for plebes.

  “Okay, everyone will run through once for practice. Then you’ll do it again for time.” Captain Miller announced to the G, H and I companies’ fourth-class cadets. He and all the Department of Physical Education (DPE) instructors were in phenomenal shape.

  He’s a stud muffin! For an old guy.

  “The men will go first, then the women,” Captain Miller said.

  She watched as the guys low crawled under the bars, vaulted over the horses, hoisted themselves onto the shelf, leapt onto bars leading to the upper track, jumped back down to floor mats and through the hanging tires, ran over three levels of balance beams, scaled the eight foot wall, hand-walked the monkey bars, climbed the hanging ropes back up to the track, picked up a medicine ball and ran three laps before crossing the finish line. A big metal bucket waited at the exit for anyone needing to puke.

  Most guys negotiated the obstacles with seemingly little effort although quite a few struggled with the balance beams. Some fell off and had to start again. Drew Hambin floated across the tri-level beams. Jan marveled at his agility and strength as he handled all the obstacles with ease.

  After finishing the practice IOCT, the men sat down around the edge of the gym where the women had been waiting. “Okay, women, your turn!” Captain Miller shouted.

  Jan tried to put on a good face but she knew this wasn’t going to be pretty. “Let the faster ones go ahead of us,” she whispered to Angel and Kristi while nodding toward Leslie Wright and Debra Plowden. She thought it was best not to get in their way.

  “First, Cadet Wright will demonstrate how to negotiate each obstacle,” Captain Miller said.

  What? The guys didn’t get a demonstration! Most female cadets didn’t like when the faculty made a distinction between the genders. Having a demonstration for the IOCT, when there wasn’t one for the men, was just the kind of “special treatment” they wanted to avoid.

  Captain Miller must have sensed the women’s concerns. “The reason for this demonstration is due to the fact that women have to negotiate the obstacles differently than men.”

  Leslie crawled under the low bars, ran through the flat tire station and then vaulted easily over the horse.

  Not sure what’s different yet.

  As she ran up to the six-foot shelf, Captain Miller said, “Notice how Cadet Wright throws her leg up first. Women usually have to use this method to climb onto the shelf. The leg gives you leverage to hoist yourself up.”

  Okay, I wouldn’t have known that.

  Leslie continued through the next few obstacles coming to the eight-foot vertical wall. “Notice that Cadet Wright uses her legs to partially climb the wall while grabbing the top of the wall with her hands. This way, she is able to go over using most of her lower body strength.”

  Okay, didn’t know that either.

  “Now, see how Cadet Wright moves her legs while traversing the monkey bars. Her legs act as a pendulum for the upper body giving her momentum to grab each successive bar.”

  There seems to be a pattern here.

  “Cadet Wright loops her foot around the rope and secures it with her other foot. Then she lifts her body up the rope using her legs like an inch worm.” Jan had no doubt that Leslie could have negotiated every obstacle like the men, using mostly upper body strength.

  But the rest of us mortals…well…

  They lined up at the start of the course. Jan strategically stood behind several women she knew would breeze through the obstacles. Yet, she chose to go in front of Kristi and Angel, thinking they might be slower. She heard Drew’s voice from the line of men along the wall. “You got this girls!” Jan didn’t mind when Drew used that word, “girls,” because she knew he meant well.

  They started in 15-second intervals. Jan saw Leslie take off and negotiate each obstacle much faster than the demonstration. God, she’s a marvel.

  Captain Miller gave Jan the signal to start and she began low crawling. She learned this skill in Beast and it wasn’t too difficult for short stretches. Then she skipped through the tires and over the vault; no problem. Jan ran up to the eight-foot shelf, threw her leg onto it and tried to hoist herself up. But her leg fell off quickly, taking away her leverage. Captain Miller said, “Go back and run up to it again, Miss Wishart.”

  Jan backed up about ten feet and charged the shelf again but still no luck getting the leg to stay. “Miss Wishart, throw your head and upper body to the left while throwing your leg to the right onto the shelf. Become almost parallel to the shelf and use it to help you up.”

  Easier to say than do or something like that… Jan ran up to the shelf a third time, doing as Captain Miller explained. This time, she managed to get her knee on the shelf. Wow. That made all the difference. Jan pulled the rest of her five-feet, ten-inches onto the shelf. She jumped onto the bars above, then onto the track before circling back down to the bars and jumping to the floor mats below. She hopped through the hanging tire and ran over the three levels of balance beams with no trouble. At the eight-foot vertical wall, her long legs came in handy. She used them to step up the wall and grab the top with both hands. Then, she folded her body over the top and flopped onto mats on the other side.

  The monkey bars were harder. Jan didn’t have an ounce of rhythm in her bones, hence swaying and swinging didn’t come naturally.

  “Use your momentum to grab the next bar,” another DPE instructor said.

  What momentum? Jan couldn’t seem to get the swinging thing to work. She fell off the third bar.

  “Try it again, Miss Wishart.” Jan started again, this time making it t
o the fifth bar. “Once more, Miss Wishart.”

  I hope the guys aren’t watching. Yet, they were. Most of them cheered for the women, but a few shook their heads or looked down. She dreaded what they were thinking—that we are the weak links in the Long Gray Line.

  Every so often she heard Drew say something like, “C’mon Jan, you can do it!” or “Keep trying, Kristi!” or “Way to go Angel!”

  God, I love that boy!

  On the third attempt she made it to the seventh bar and the DPE instructor told her to move onto the ropes. It took longer to figure out the rope climb than any other obstacle. After what seemed like an hour, Jan managed to get onto the upper track. She picked up the medicine ball, ran three laps and finally finished the torture chamber.

  Down on the gym floor Kristi and Angel were still dealing with the vertical wall. Jan felt sorry for them, yet she mostly felt relieved to see others having more problems than she did. Then she felt guilty for feeling better because they were worse. God, I’m a mess!

  Women like Leslie and Debra didn’t need to practice the IOCT. Women like Jan, Kristi and Angel practiced for several weeks before the official test. The three women arrived at the gym every day before sunrise. Drew volunteered as their coach. He really is wonderful. They practiced the shelf, the wall, the monkey bars and the ropes. Then they ran through the whole thing once more for time.

  On the day of the test Jan was so nervous she could barely breathe. She lined up behind Debra and in front of Angel and Kristi. The men were either puking upstairs or seated against the wall watching the women. She could hear Drew shouting encouragement.

  She hooked her leg onto the shelf the first time. “Way to go, Jan!” Drew yelled. She climbed the wall with relative ease. “Awesome job, Jan!” She monkeyed the bars better than ever and shimmied up the ropes with little difficulty. “You’re almost there, Jan!” When she finished, she looked down as Kristi and Angel inched up the ropes. Drew cheered them on, too.

  The practicing paid off. When Kristi came over the finish line, Jan hugged and lifted her off the floor. She did the same with Angel. Drew almost scared them to death when he grabbed all three women in a big bear hug.