Girl Lost  Chapter 7 

September 9th, 1970 - Elvis was in Phoenix and I was in San Diego - the Marne Corps Recruit Depot to be specific. As the days went on, I realized I should not have acted on the suggestion to enlist so quickly but I had been feeling so rejected, scared and alone at the time that it was done as an impulse. Staying for the Elvis concert would have been a better choice.

Most of boot camp was a blur - military classes , physical training and drill made up the day. Everything was done as a group so privacy didn't exist. We'd march everywhere together - classes - chow - the head - and showers. Even punishment when someone messed up was done as a group.

The recruiter had told me that the easiest way to survive boot camp was to keep my mouth shut unless replying to a D.I. or platoon commander which helped immensely especially since I had 18 years of keeping my mouth shut at home. I only wish he would have mentioned how to avoid others messing up which was a bigger problem for me.

It felt that I was always doing punishment exercises - 99.9% being caused by others. ( I went into the Corps at 128 lbs and between PT (physical training) and the punishment exercises I came out of boot camp at 150 lbs. (Any thoughts of keeping my cute figure had obviously disappeared.)

I had three major dislikes in boot camp:

1) Drill - I hated it! Enough said.

2) Target practice - We used the M-14 for both drill and qualifying at the rifle range while the Marines in Vietnam were using the newer M-16. All Marines had to qualify with their weapon - period. I qualified on my last shot - a bullseye in the prone position at 500 yards. The D.I. walked by and told me I had no idea how fortunate I had been to make that shot.

3) Group showers - the worst part of boot camp for me hands down! Early on the D.I. yelled "incoming". We were expected to dive to the floor and cover our heads without hesitation. Wet - nude - male bodies on and under me - so disgusting - it took every fiber of my being to not vomit.

As hard as I tried, I could not totally avoid confrontation with my D.I.. We had been stamping our names in our uniforms when he came over to inspect my efforts. He didn't say a word and turned to walk away. The next thing I knew I was flying over a bunk and crashing into a wall - I had no idea what had happened.

Dazed, I struggled to my feet. He was standing there looking at me. He stated that we should all consider that a lesson to pay better attention to what we were doing. Looking over my work I found the smallest of ink tails hanging from the last letter of my name. Lesson learned.

I was amazed that he had even seen it but was more amazed at the speed that he had displayed in connecting his fist with my chest. I realized that he had actually not hit me as much as had given me a controlled but powerful shove.

I'd never seen it coming but would see the speed and control soon after when he used it on another recruit.

We'd just finished a run (in formation). There had been numerous drops and the procedure was for the formation to run circles around the recruit who had dropped until he rejoined the formation allowing it to continue. This could double or triple the actual length of a run depending on how many people would drop during the run. Apparently, this was to much for the recruit and he flipped out as we arrived back at the barracks moving through the formation swinging at random recruits.

I watched in fascination as the D.I. took a second, assessed the situation, made his decision, timed his move, and proceeded to step in between the wild swings and level a lightening fast blow to the recruit's chin. He was not only down but out for the count! I remember feeling an overwhelming sense of relief that I had only received a shove from him and not the punch.

FYI - Our shirts were blouses (okay with me), women wore pants so ours were called trousers, and we carried weapons not guns - a gun was that thing between a guys legs - it was known for firing both bullets and blanks.

With boot camp winding down, I was starting to feel a little more confident in my ability to remain invisible and out of trouble until graduation. No such luck. The platoon was in line waiting to enter the mess hall. The D.I. had been walking up and down the line looking us over when he stopped next to me and asked what was sticking up out of my trouser pocket.

I knew he could see they were my newly acquired glasses. He pulled them from the pocket - asked if that was where they belonged and then placed them on my nose wrapping the ends around my ears several times. Then he asked who the hell I was and if I'd been in his platoon from the beginning. Even after I said yes, he asked several more times. Keeping my mouth shut had definitely paid off.

Graduation arrived and so did my dad. He was wearing his Air Force blues. He looked impressive. I took him over to meet the platoon commander and promptly proceeded to trip in the gravel as I did my about face to walk away.. As I stumbled, I glanced over to see the P.C. shake his head at my dad. I didn't care - I had graduated!

I had a little time before leaving for ITR at Camp Pendleton. I walked around with my dad for a few minutes but have no idea what we spoke to each other about. 18 years old and we still couldn't communicate beyond hello and goodbye.

Our visit did end on a humorous if somewhat embarrassing note A Marine had come around a corner so fast I didn't see a rank. I popped off a salute with my dad following suit. It was only a private! We ended up grinning at each other and then saying goodbye.

I left for Camp Pendleton a short while later.

Girl Lost - Chapter 6

Chapter 6

                                                                Frankfurt American High School 

                                                                       APO N.Y.  N.Y. 09757 

March of 1969 found the family returning to Germany. When I questioned my mom about our short time at McChord, she told me that Dad had asked for the transfer because he was afraid it would get out on base that I identified as a girl. I was left feeling like I had let my parents down.

I don't remember this move either.  One day we were at McChord and the next we were in Germany.

Dad was stationed at Rhein Main and we were quartered in Aschaffenburg and Mainaschaff. We had a top floor apartment in Aschaffenburg which was basically a converted attic.  The walls went up about four and a half feet then slopped in towards the center of the rooms effectively reducing head room along the walls. My sister, who dealt with drugs her entire life, would tell people how cruel our mom  was keeping us locked in the attic like in the book Flowers in the Attic. Mainaschaff found us on the 14th floor of a 16 floor apartment building. According to mom the elevators would break down quite frequently giving us plenty of exercise.

                                                                             

 

Our arrival in Germany did little to reduce the tension between me and my parents. Dad immediately found me a job on base working for civil engineering cutting grass and later a job in the 24 hour cafeteria. My folks were determined to keep me distracted from my "dirty" thoughts so Dad would drive to the base and back twice a day on Saturdays and Sundays so I could work. This meant he was commuting the equivalent of 9 times a week to the base and back to keep me busy. The base was 55 km (34 mi) from Aschaffenurg.

It was approximately 44 km (27 mi) from Aschaffenburg to the high school in Frankfurt. The trip was made on  military buses and took about an hour. Aschaffenburg was the last town on the route and any further we  would be looking at staying in the dorms.

                                                                        

                                                                      

        

FAHS was a struggle. My parents continued to keep me on a tight leash .  They had my classes scheduled without any input from me. They pushed me into wrestling which I hated with every fiber of my being.  I was pressured into asking a girl to the movies and later inviting her to the prom but mostly when not in school I had to stay at home and study.

The first day of class was miserable. I had Mr. Meecham, the Drama teacher, for first period study-hall in one of the school's quonset huts. The desks were arranged in a semi-circle at one-end  of the hut and were on a raised floor three or four steps higher than the main floor. That end of the classroom was under an orange draped parachute and most of the kids were just  standing around or sitting on the steps waiting for Mr. Meecham to arrive and class to start. I took a desk at the end of the back row trying to hide behind one of the students in front of me. I didn't know anyone and I didn't want to know anyone. 

Mr. Meecham came in all energy, called attendance and decided we needed a sing-a-long. I had never sang a note in public and had never participated in any kind of  class sing-a-long. I started to feel sick. He proceeded to work his way around the class asking for song selections. I could feel myself start to shake and the sweat start to pour off of me. I barely knew any current music having been raised on what was then known as Hillbilly music and as I listened to the other students name songs I knew that Hillbilly wasn't going to work in that class. When he got to me, he ended up asking me several times to name a song I knew. Each time I told him I couldn't think of anything off the top of my head but he wasn't going to let it go so I threw out Memories by Elvis. He just looked at me and said that it was a nice song and moved on. He ended up selecting Blowin' in the Wind - a song I had never heard though the rest of the class obviously had.  I managed to slide down in my seat far enough to be blocked by the student in front of me  and was able to make like I was mouthing the words.

 My sister and I both took German. She was enrolled in German I with Herr Hemman. I had German II  with him having taken a year of German stateside the year before. Her class was right before mine and it wasn't long before Herr Hemman started asking me if she was sick. It turned out she had began skipping class.  All I could say was she got on the bus with me and he'd just shake his head at me.

Though I never said anything to my parents about it my mom brought up the issue of a neighbor having seen her in the PX shoplifting and wanted to I know if I knew anything about it. I finally admitted to having Herr Hemman ask me about her not being in class. As for myself, I only skipped once and it was during study hall. I figured I'd already made enough trouble for myself and wasn't looking to make more.  

Interaction was minimal if not brief with other students.  While looking for a classroom a student saw I had study hall in the library and warned me to be careful as the assistant librarian was a narc. I had no clue what a narc was. Another student asked if  I was Native American. I said I didn't know and she said I looked like I was. End of conversation. 

Like I mentioned earlier, I was pressured into going out for wrestling by my parents for some increased male bonding. I suppose there are girls and women out there that would be excited wrestling with a guy but I wasn't one of them. I felt dirty and was constantly worried about accidentally grabbing an opponent in the wrong place. Fortunately, my lack of enthusiasm put me so far down the string of wrestlers that I didn't have a match until the end of the season. When the season ended, several of the team who had had to worry about maintaining their weight during the season celebrated by going on an eating spree. The next day we learned we were going to regionals and we had to make weight by the next day. I still remember Mr. McCoy having several of  us running in place in the bus aisles while holding on to the overhead rails and drinking grapefruit juice in an effort to make weight by weigh in time. 

Art B. couldn't make his normal weight so had to wrestle up a weight class which left me having to wrestle at his usual weight. My bout was over and done within a minute with my face being smashed into the mat and then me being flipped over and pinned. It turned out that even though I lost my one and only match I still took third place because of a bye system that was used. 

The only good part of being on the wrestling team was having the cheerleaders accompany the team to most of the matches. I had crushes on each one of the girls while at the same time while wishing I was a member of their squad.  

Wrapping up my memories of being on the wrestling squad was the time we went into the "O" club for a meal at one of the bases we had traveled to for a match and there was a live band playing in one of the rooms. It was playing an old Buddy Holly tune called Rave On. Though this was almost ten years after he died, I had never heard of him or the song but it was enough to become an immediate fan.

My one and only date came as a senior. In an effort to placate my parents, I asked one of the girls who rode the bus with me if she'd go to the movies with me. Her name was Melody and I had an incredible crush on her. I was a nervous wreck. My imagination was jumping all over the place. I felt like she could see right through me and knew that I identified as a girl but she still said yes. I can't remember what the movie was though I can still picture both of us sitting there eating popcorn. It would have been a decent first date even with all the gender and sexual thoughts I'd been struggling with but my mom still wasn't done with me - she had me take my younger brother and sister along. Totally embarrassing!

I was also pressured into asking a girl to the prom. Though not interested in going (as a boy), after two months of "nagging" by my mom to ask Melody I gave in to her wishes. 

Getting on the bus after school one day, I sat down beside her and asked if she would be interested i going to the prom with me.  All of a sudden the students sitting around her started clapping and cheering. I wasn't sure why but she said she had been waiting for a month for me to ask. She said my mom had told her mom that I was going to ask her. She said she had already bought her shoes and was getting tired of waiting for me to ask her.

The same day when I arrived home mom told me to start packing as my dad had gotten sick and already been sent back to the states. It wasn't until years later I learned that he had tried to kill himself and  actually had a history of suicidal ideation.

We had a couple days before we had to leave so the next morning on the bus I told Melody I would be unable to take her to the prom as we were leaving in a couple of days. She started to cry and asked if I couldn't stay with her family until the prom. It wasn't an option as we were traveling on one passport and the family had no orders yet as to where we were going. 

Seeing her cry ripped me apart. I had walked a fine line for years trying to please everyone from parents to teachers. The idea that I had hurt someone enough to make them cry made me want to crawl into a hole and die. I've followed my school's Facebook page for years hoping to see her name show up on the alumni page. I guess I just needed to know if she had a happy life.

There were a couple of positive moments while living there; I got to meet Ricky Nelson out behind the teen club having a smoke. I had grown up watching Ozzie and Harriet so it was quite the surprise to bump into him at my high school. 

Also, I remember going with a church group to Berlin for a tour. We took the military night train through East Germany. Though the tourist bus tried to take us to areas that had already been rebuilt by the Soviets, we could see the ruins of bombed out buildings peaking out behind the repaired ones.

There was one incident that the group became involved in while taking a walk around West Berlin. The group came to an intersection and while waiting to cross a Mercedes pulled up and the driver waved us across. It turned into a Keystone Cop routine with everyone trying to get through the intersection at the same time. One of the church group lost his temper at the driver and yelled an obscenity at him. The driver proceeded to get out of his car and move to the trunk. He lifted the trunk door and he pulled out the biggest German Shepard I'd ever seen. We left quickly.