Return to Fort Jackson/summer of 1984

(My buddy in Basic Training Joyce Ginsbach she passed away in 1984 at the age of 18 in Panama.)

No one wanted to go back to Fort Jackson less than me. But I had my orders to return and finish my Advanced Individual Training or AIT as we called it. Almost immediately I was in the same trouble as before I was no better at P.T. than last year.

The chain of command at C-11-4 had all changed. Captain Ernest Nix was the company commander, and the Senior Field Leader was Staff Sergeant Armando Ochoa, the 1st Sergeant was Sgt. Henri, The 11th battalion commander was Lt. Colonel Gipson. We all called him “Darth Vader.” I was on good terms with Captain Nix. Once again, I let myself rely on someone.

The training was not as grueling as we were in class for most of the day studying as 7l limas on the type writers, but we still trained as soldiers. For me, P.T. was the most difficult. I still would get shin splints

From the beginning Sgt. Ochoa didn’t like me, he sent me to Junior Leadership classes for a week to get rid of me. He was a machismo, short of stature, dark-haired, dark-eyed, and brown skinned, I know he had tattoos somewhere on his flesh under his fatigues. I will write that Mexicans don’t like Mexicans. He didn’t have a problem with the other female soldiers. He had that sneer that disdained women. Sgt. Ochoa reminded me so much of daddy, especially when he would set his sight on me to embarrass.

I wrote a letter to the editor of the Columbia Star describing the deplorable conditions at Fort Jackson. Sgt Ochoa was an abusive bastard. The AIT school was co-ed we were next to the men’s dormitories. Once I saw him abusing three male soldiers, he had them carrying their weapons over their heads and run around the dormitories in the excessive heat that characterized Fort Jackson.

I wanted to tell him to stop it. Instead I wrote a letter to the Columbia Star writing about that incident, I went overboard when I described Fort Jackson as an “extension of the Soviet Union”, that’s when my troubles really started. They somehow got a hold of the letter and I was in Lt. Col. Gipson’s office, the Battalion commander. After that “Darth Vader” pretty much knew who I was and kept an eye on me.

“Why did you write that letter?”

“What letter?” I answered.

“Did you think we wouldn’t find out?” he said, with that Darth Vader type of voice. Only he wasn’t built like Darth Vader, or rather David Prowse the actor who played him. He had a slender build and was tall.

“I thought this was a free country, Sir.”

He tried to scare me by telling me that it was treason. I half way believed him.

Sergeant Ochoa was the toughest on me because of that letter. His narrowed gaze was always upon me, not because he liked me because he hated me. Every time he saw me, he would drop me for push-ups for the sheer hell of it. He liked to see me with my nose to the ground, with my arms shaking as I had no upper strength. Captain Nix was the bright spot in all of this. He allowed me to talk to him whenever I needed to, which was often, he let me skip the chain of command.

I made some friends, Rochelle Redmon, Tarryk, Patrice Eulin, Yvette Maxwell and Fujii were all in my barracks. There was less soldiers in the barracks than in basic training, in basic we were all in the same room. We were like room-mates. Eulin was my best friend, she was a slender black taller than me “5,4” from Nassau, Bahamas. She was very easy going, and had a positive attitude about everything. Maxwell, was short, red-haired but very strong, Fujii was from Hawaii, of Japanese descent, she could only do about 8 sit-ups, she had very weak stomach muscles but was slender and about “5,6”. Tarryk was blonde and a little thicker than the other girls she was kind but less friendly to me.

There were men, I didn’t really talk to them, except for Timmy Eaton, but Timmy Eaton had a girlfriend back home that he was depressed about. I didn’t know when men were interested in me, a guy named Martinez used to try and talk to me, Penny Edsell said he liked me, but she liked him, and asked me if I minded. I didn’t. I was trying to survive. Every time I was in formation, Ochoa had to say something to me, had to walk by me, and inspect me.

Everyone except for me went out on weekend passes. I talked to momma often in tears, and wrote my poetry, and listened to the Walkman I bought at the PX.

I didn’t pray like I should have. There was a chapel but I didn’t go. I had Roman Catholic on my dog tags.

Mr. Pizarro, my high school dean used to tell me I was my own worst enemy. I don’t know about that, but Captain Nix said the same thing to me. 1st Sgt Henri said I had a chip on my soldier. People used to say that about daddy.

“If I did have a chip I wouldn’t know it.” I answered.

I began to cut myself the stress of the impending P.T. test was like Damocles sword hanging over my head. Lt. Col Gipson said I could only have one try. We were supposed to have three.

“Why do you want to be here anyway” he asked me. “Go home and go to college.”

Captain Nix assured me that he would talk to Lt. Col Gipson for me. He said just to avoid 1st Sgt. Henri and Sgt. Ochoa. Captain Nix was black, short of stature and had a pleasant face. He had a tiny black mustache.

“How am I supposed to do that?”

“Don’t be so conspicuous.” He advised.

We heard a guy swallowed shampoo to get out of the Army. I wasn’t that desperate not yet anyway.

1st Sgt Henri and Sgt. Ochoa began giving me counseling statements. They weren’t merited, but they would call me into their respective offices and have me sign them anyway. I felt like it was a conspiracy, I wasn’t paranoid, though they would have liked me to believe I was. The only freedom I felt was listening to my Walkman I would sleep with it on, listening to Total Eclipse of the heart, that one twisted the knife in me.

I used to practice running on the track on my free time, I used to pray “Lord, make me like a rock.” But He didn’t make me like a rock, I never felt weaker in all of my life.

I was always dropping out of the runs. Captain Nix would walk behind with all of the girls who fell out of the run. The shin splints were so painful there were times I couldn’t even move. I would just sit in the middle of the road.

Ochoa would come back, and say, “Get up!”

“You’ll just have to shoot me right here, I can’t move.” There were so many rolling green hills there was nothing flat, not like where I was from Fresno where everything was flat.

Captain Nix would intercede and tell Sgt Ochoa that I could walk behind with him. Ochoa would sneer and give me a dirty look, and walk back to the front of the formation.

I trusted Captain Nix. He was the only human being I would gravitate towards instead of the other soldiers.

“You are going to help me finish?” I asked him.

“Yes” he said “I will do everything in my power.”