Separation Anxiety

[darrels joy]

Separation Anxiety
By BRIAN FITZGERALD
YAKIMA HERALD-REPUBLIC

CAMP DOHA, Kuwait ? "My plumbing's all wrong for this man's Army," grumbles Staff Sgt. Felice Munson of Toppenish.
The career Army reservist ? the leader of first squad, first platoon of the 737th Transportation Company ? is frustrated.

Her squad is composed entirely of men, but regulations prevent her from having direct contact with them or her fellow male noncommissioned officers when needed outside regular duty at Camp Doha. The need to know was greatest in the 737th's early days here, because assignments were changing almost constantly.

This camp consists of cavernous warehouses that have been subdivided into bays with sheets of drywall. Male soldiers are separated, with noncoms and officers in a bay of their own. Munson and the Yakima-based unit's other 13 women of all ranks are in a female bay by themselves.

While off-duty, Munson, 37, is unable to talk to soldiers under her command or communicate effectively with other leaders of her rank and above, unless she bumps into them in the hallway.

Speak with the women of the 737th about the challenges of being a female in the military, and one word comes up repeatedly.

"Communication," says Spc. Christina Rios of Yakima, "is my biggest issue."

Spc. Lynn Wagner agrees. Because she's living apart from the soldiers in her platoon, she often doesn't know that an order has been given or a mission changed.

And that leads to other problems.

"You can't bond with the guys in your platoon," says Wagner, a research scientist at the University of Washington in civilian life. "You can't hang out with them and get to know them. The bonding develops trust."

The Army's motto may be "An Army of One," but the Army's segregation of women from their platoons makes it difficult for them to feel part of the team.

"It's the 'male soldier' and the 'female soldier' as opposed to the 'soldier,' period," says Staff Sgt. Denise Watkins, 45, a military truck driver of 23 years. "The cohesion is being pulled away."


Welcome to the modern U.S. military, where women fight in combat zones alongside men, but where rules still divide them.
At Fort Lewis, where the 737th trained before deployment to Kuwait, post policy requires women to shower every three days; there's no such policy for men. Post policy also required showers to be made available to women during a multi-day training mission, but the policy made no mention of their availability for men.

That's one example of why women worry the men think females get special treatment from the Army.

The 737th's commander, Maj. Bud Bitt-ner, agrees that the women are at times provided for differently than the men, "out of human necessity." To reduce that feeling of special treatment, he made showers available to the men, too.

"If you asked any of my soldiers, 'Do I treat them differently?' I would hope they said no," says Bittner. "A woman can do just as much as a man can, and sometimes even better."

The women of the 737th want to be seen as being just as good at their jobs as the men, and they don't appreciate overly helpful men.

"I've told them before, I can handle it," says Pvt. Beatriz Zuniga-Castro, 19, of Yakima. "It frustrates me."

The Army has evolved in its treatment of women over the years, Watkins says. She was a truck driver in the early 1980s, a rarity in the Army.

"It was rough," Watkins says. "A lot of times I was the only female in the company driving anything bigger than a deuce and a half (2.5-ton truck)."

But her father was a truck driver, and Watkins was used to being in a male-dominated environment.

During the Army of her youth, Watkins says, men "were either hitting on you or they decided you ... only liked girls." Though that attitude has improved, Watkins is ambivalent about how things have changed.

For one thing, it's too politically correct. Back then, the training was more demanding. :re:

"You had to be twice the truck driver to be considered half," she says.

Now, she says, "They've lowered the standards."

Despite the issues they face, the women are quick to add they are proud to serve, and they consider their platoons as second families.

"I think (the Army's) awesome," says Zuniga-Castro. "It's teaching me how to live my life. It teaches you how to be you."

Zuniga-Castro is a highly regarded member of her squad, commanded by Staff Sgt. Patrick Salerno, 26, of Puyallup.

"She's one of the best, hardest-working, most intelligent soldiers I've ever worked with, ever," Salerno says, explaining that he plans to promote her to private first class on Monday and to specialist in six months. "She's on the fast track to becoming sergeant."

Zuniga-Castro and Spc. Rosita Brito, a supply clerk from Grandview, are thinking of re-enlisting in the Army Reserves when the time comes to do so. They are the first and only members of their families to join the military.

Brito says she's faced some discrimination, both in and out of the Army, "because I'm female and I'm Hispanic."

Her parents, she says, want her out of the military.

"I think I can take care of myself, but they don't think so," she says.

But, Brito says, she doesn't want her younger sister to join.

"I told her no. I didn't like it ? being treated different, thinking you're not good enough."

If nothing else, being a woman in the Army is a growing, if at times painful, experience.

"It helps you realize who you are and what you're capable of," says Munson, an account analyst at Tree Top in Selah in civilian life. "I was there, 19 years ago."

Next year, after her deployment to the Middle East is over, Munson plans to retire and spend more time with her husband and two young children. Until then, as the senior female in the 737th, she'll continue to do her job, as a soldier. And she'll continue to fight for the women under her charge.

"I'm not always going to be here. You've got the Zuniga-Castros that'll be in (the Army) forever. Unless we fight to get the mentality up a notch, nothing's going to change."



BRIAN FITZGERALD/Yakima Herald-Republic
Using a hallway as a conference room, Staff Sgt. Felice Munson, left, of Toppenish conducts a morning meeting with members of her squad ? all male ? while Staff Sgt. Sean Hay, center, tries to navigate the bodies in his way. Munson is leader of first squad, first platoon of the 737th Transportation Company, but because of Camp Doha regulations governing female-male contacts can meet with her soldiers only in the hallways or outside their building.

[darrels joy]

RIAN FITZGERALD/Yakima Herald-Republic
1st Sgt. Vernon Hegler meets privately with female soldiers of the 737th Transportation Company after morning formation on their last day at Fort Lewis on Feb. 7. At 14 members, the women of the 737th comprise less than 10 percent of the company's total membership.