A woman goes to war in a man's world

[thedrifter]

06-11-2003

AN HONEST WOMEN: pc politicians take notice
A woman goes to war in a man's world

By Kirsten Scharnberg
Tribune staff reporter
May 18, 2003

After learning that I was to be the Tribune's only female embedded journalist, I promised myself never to write the woman-on-the-front-lines story. It just wouldn't be an issue. I would find a way to blend in. I wouldn't be treated differently because I wouldn't let anyone treat me differently.

Wrong. I got my first inkling of this on the chilly March night that my unit-- the 1st Battalion of the 187th Infantry Regiment-- arrived at Camp New Jersey, one of the rudimentary tent cities that had sprung up in the Kuwaiti desert just a short Humvee ride from Iraq.

The 187th, part of the storied 101st Airborne Division, is an infantry rifle unit, which means there are no women in the ranks because U.S. servicewomen are not allowed on the front lines. So it was me and about 800 men standing in the inky desert that night, listening to a gruff first sergeant bellow out the rules. We had been traveling for several days, so I was in a sleep deprived daze, largely tuning out what was being said. But when talk turned to the showers --really just a few spouts inside a filthy single-wide trailer --my ears perked up.

"We'll designate a female shower time for the reporter," the first sergeant said. "We'll post a guard for her so she can use the showers privately once a day. I'll let you know the time we decide."

I hadn't showered in about four days. I anxiously awaited the announcement of my special shower hour. A day passed with no word. Two days. A week. Finally, I took matters into my own hands and hiked the couple kilometers to another camp where there were female soldiers and thus female shower hours.

It was a minor thing, and I actually grew to relish that solitary 5 a.m. hike through the desert haze. But it made me realize how singled out I was, how the littlest things would be the ones to trip me up and cause me to do the very thing I had wanted to avoid: stand out.

Once the war started, those moments and circumstances only became more common. Hours after my unit had set out for Iraq, an alert came over the Humvee radio that a surface-to-surface missile had hit near our convoy. It was believed to be a chemical attack, and the voice on the radio shouted for everyone to get into their chemical suits.

Everyone jumped out of the vehicles and--because those chemical suits are oppressively hot in the desert heat--first stripped to their underwear before wiggling into them. Except for me. For the next three days I thought I would die from the mistake of putting my chemical suit on over my clothes because I didn't want to stand in my underwear in front of an entire infantry unit in broad daylight.

The modesty had to go. Try finding a place to go to the bathroom where no one can see you in the middle of a flat, not-a-tree-or-bush-in-sight expanse of sand. Keep in mind that I had finally used the cover of darkness to shed the clothes underneath my chemical suit, which is a bulky set of interconnected garments that had to be almost entirely removed in order for me to do my business.

One day--sick to death of having to pee in front of men I'd later have to attempt to interview with professional grace--I rejoiced to find a little lean- to dash behind. As I reveled in the first privacy I'd had in weeks, two Apache helicopters flew over so low that I could see the shocked expressions on the pilots' faces.

And these were the little dilemmas. I had made a pact with myself that no matter how tired I was or how physically strenuous a mission became, I would never let one of the soldiers lug my rucksack or equipment for me. I wanted them to see me as completely capable of pulling my own weight, as a traveling companion who was not a liability but an equal.

One night, hating myself, I broke that rule. It was pitch black and we were taking constant mortar fire at a checkpoint just outside Najaf, the holy Shiite city in central Iraq. I had my rucksack, which weighed well over 70 pounds, my computer and satellite phone, my gas mask container, several bottles of water and some food.

I had been bumming rides with military vehicles for a little over a day to get up to the embattled city, and both my computer and phone were out of power, so I had added to my load a battery taken from a blown-out car, hoping that, with some alligator clips and a power inverter, I could charge my equipment.

The soldiers I had met up with said I could accompany them into the city--a 4- mile hike. I didn't know whether I could hike 4 feet with all that gear, let alone 4 miles, but we set out.

At about mile 2 1/2, I was about to give out. I was contemplating saying something needlessly melodramatic like, "Go ahead, save yourselves," when a soldier asked, "Ma'am, can I carry that battery for you?"

All my resolve failed. I handed the battery to the young man--who already was lugging a much heavier load than I was, including a fully loaded M-4 assault weapon that he would be expected to use in case of an attack.

The decision nagged at me for days. Not only had I not been able to pull my own weight, I also had potentially put that young soldier at risk. What if he had not been able to aim his weapon effectively had we been ambushed in that wooded expanse of territory approaching Najaf? What if he had fallen on the rough terrain and misfired his weapon, injuring someone?

As tough as I think I was out there, as proud as I am to have lived for more than two months in conditions I never dreamed possible, those questions bother me still.

Back in Chicago recently, the Tribune had a welcome-home party for a bunch of us who had covered the war. A female editor asked me whether my experience had given me an opinion about putting female soldiers into the infantry and on the front lines.

I told her about the car battery and also about the many times I watched big, tough, burly male soldiers nearly collapse during 10-kilometer hikes with rucksacks, ammunition, TOW missiles, radios and machine guns.

I'm not qualified to say that no woman could do that job, but I suspect that it would be a rare one who could. I had run a marathon not long before the war and worked out almost every day. I grew up on an Iowa farm where manual labor was part of the bargain. But I had been bested by a car battery, and when I handed my load to that soldier, I admitted that I never could have cut it in the Infantry.



Sempers,

Roger

[philly]

[judyvillecco]

Well having been a former WAC during the Vietnam Era I enlisted at a time women were only in support roles but still sent near enemy lines and risking their lives. In Basic Training we were the first to be subjected to M-16 training and defense training. We supposedly were trained under live ammo and I can say I learned a lot about myself..that I wasn't afraid and that i could perform if I had to under pressure. I learned I wasn't a coward which was an important lesson for me and although I could have survived and did survive terrors from my own countrymen as severe as if I was in combat I am glad other women have not had to go.

I do not think war is a place for women as war is hell! I believed then as now we can measure us same as men but we suffer, bleed, and get traumatized the same and we have a long way to go baby before that is recognized. I was told I deserved abuse,rape, and torture because that was what I'd get and that I was army property to do with as the army saw fit. God help us when the enemy is us!

[philly]

What happened to you was tragic. Your command should have approached you with compassion and understanding.

[judyvillecco]

I agree! I'd hate to see any woman there and don't think we should fight for that right! Don't think men should hate us for being elsewhere however. We were needed and we answered the call just like them with the same dreams and goals. Just like in the private sector..why should it be different? Why does that give anyone the right to treat us badly? Rank doesn't give them the right. That works both ways for men and women.

You are right what happened to me should not have happened but it will happen again and again because there was no accounting for it and still it goes on. The fox is still in the henhouse. I like what the reporter said that women shouldn't be where they could get men killed or vulnerable...I wholeheartedly agree..just as vulnerable women should not be where unrulely men are for the same reason. Some of us were never for separating the training ;but politics won out ;and some of us are victims, both men and women.

That's the problem with those in Congress who have never served. They really don't get it. They don't have a feel for the pros and cons. I wish we were more represented in D.C.

[philly]

You're couldn't be more right about our Congress on this subject.

[39mto39g]

Kristen,
Is a brave women, not for being there but for telling the truth.

She forgets one big thing, and most likley because nobody told her. She was just like a new guy comming to the unit.
Every new guy comming to an infantry unit humping can't cut it.
I can't tell you how many times I carried some new guys stuff cause he was throughing up and couldn't cut it. The trick is not to give up, You learn what to carry and how to carry and each time it gets a little easier untill "YOUR" helping the new guy because he can't cut it.
Im not saying women belong in the front lines, But I will say that women should be given the chance to fail and learn and get some help and learn, And when the learn-in is none evaluate weather women should be there.
Personaly I think the infantry carries way to much junk anyway.
All you really need is water and bullits, the rest can be brought with Hum-Vees

Ron

[Keith_Hixson]

Mountain Climbing rescue team. We had one woman in the team. A fine lady and a good medic. But when it came to doing hard physical rescues on the major peaks in the North Cascades National Park, she just didn't make it. The men had to make concessions (Carry her supplies, etc.) She never helped to carry a stokes litter over rugged terrain, because she didn't have the muscle mass. We men resented the fact that she made more work for us when she came along.

I watched a special on high school women in sports. They stated that 75% of all high school women suffer major knee injuries playing basketball and soccer if they play for three years or longer. It seems women just don't have the muscle mass to keep the ligaments and tendons in place when doing a lot of running, stopping, going, jumping, and twisting. That compared to 10% of all the men in participating in High School sports of soccer and basketball. 80% or the women playing professional basketball have had some sort of knee or ankle surgery.

Women are just as brave and logical under stressful situations as men but its the physical thing (muscle mass) that prevents most women, not all, from being capable of infantry duty.

Keith

[philly]

If our gov't opened the doors for females to enlist in the Infantry, it wouldn't necessarily be limited to the volunteers. Meaning, if we were called to war and there was a shortage of men in the Infantry, the draft could be activated and females 18 and over could quite possibly be called to fight. If I had a daughter, the frontlines would be the last place I'd want her to be..

[David]

We showered with the females during the Gulf War. I am surprised to hear other units out there this time around had special times for females to shower. I guess we were a much tighter bunch back in '91.