It's My Country Too

by Jerri Bell, Tracy Crow

  I said, “No sir. I said I did not talk to that reporter. She just took my picture. She talked to the soldiers, not me.”

  So he was . . . being a very big butt hole is what I’ll say. So I was having a hard time either way I went. It didn’t matter.

  [She explains that the media attention continued. Reporters showed up at her home and her parents’ home and took photos. She also received a letter bomb at the Fort Benning Military Police Station.

  In April 1990 Bray returns home. Her weight loss shocks her family and commander, and she is suffering severe hip pain from her earlier training injury. Three weeks after her return, she is summoned to Colonel Liebe’s office.]

  He told me that the Panamanian government had pressed charges against me for damage to private property, damage to government property, animal cruelty, just a whole array of charges with fines in the millions of dollars. . . .

  And I was like, “What are you talking about?”

  He said, “You need to go get representation. . . . You need to go get a lawyer.”

  I said, “What’s going to happen?”

  He said, “Well, you’ve launched the largest CID [Criminal Investigation Division] investigation in the whole southeast region.”

  So I went flying back to my company. I told my first sergeant what was going on, then I had a swarm of CID agents coming in to investigate different people, me . . . I made sure that my soldiers got representation and myself, and so . . . everybody told their side of the story. Everybody was interviewed differently about the attack on the kennels.

  [Bray explains that the outcome of the investigation finally revealed that the female commander attached to Fort Meade who replaced her in Panama had given the order to kill the remaining dogs at the kennels.]

  [The other female commander] sent a team of soldiers in there and she told them, she said—what was it that was used?—“Take care of the dogs.” Well, what happened is those soldiers went in there and shot every dog in the place—shot them in the head.

  And afterwards, the Panamanians were pulling all of their dogs out and throwing them in a huge big fire. And when I was told that I was like, “Oh my God. No way would it be me. I guarantee you. No way it would be me, and no way anybody in my company would’ve done that.”

  Well this CID investigator kept going and kept digging and kept digging until he found out exactly who it was. . . . Now, that has really upset the lieutenant colonel of the battalion, because it was his own company that did it. So now I’ve got him mad at me too, politically.

  And then that battalion commander at Fort Meade had to do an OER [officer evaluation report] on my performance down in Panama. . . . I got that, and I finally got my award, but it didn’t come until I was about to get out of the Army. In August I’d gone back to the hospital. The doctor said that they needed to remove the pins [in her hip]. So I told Colonel Liebe to go ahead and get Captain Freeman, that we would go ahead and change command early . . . so that I could go and have my surgery to get these pins out. Because I literally had meat-to-screw, and it was tearing and I was . . . bleeding on the inside. So we did change of command, which made him very happy. And [Liebe] did my OER, and he marked me as a three. For every other man in that command, he marked them as a one. So essentially he just killed my career at that point.

  [After her surgery, Bray is reassigned to a medical company and begins working toward a medical discharge. A major disobeys Colonel Liebe’s orders about her OER and writes a favorable evaluation.]

  By this time I was . . . fed up with everything, and I accepted the medical discharge.

  And I . . . was at home and I got a call from the commanding general of Fort Benning, Georgia. And he said, “Captain Bray,” he said, “I have an OER on my desk right now that I’m not very happy with.”

  I said, “I’m sure you’re not. I had to sign it. The only thing I can tell you is that I would believe what the major said over what the colonel said.”

  He said, “Captain Bray, I think there’s been a great injustice done here and I want you to know you have a right to appeal this OER and you can get your commission back in the military.”

  I said, “Sir, you know I hate to say this, but I know I can appeal that OER and I know I could get my commission back . . . but at this point in my life I’m just very tired.” It had hit me at this point of what all had transpired over the year or more. And I just said, “No, I think I’ll just stay out.”

  He said, “I don’t agree with it, but if that’s your wishes then I’ll go along with it.”

  So that was it. I got medically discharged.

  Now today looking back, I would’ve accepted the commander’s advice and I would’ve appealed that OER and I would’ve stayed in the military. And I could’ve retired in 2003. But at the time I was in a different situation.

  Darlene Iskra

  (1952–)

  U.S. Navy

  Darlene Iskra, the first woman to command a commissioned naval vessel, assumed command of USS Opportune (ARS 41) in December 1990 in Naples, Italy. She took Opportune to war during Desert Storm in January 1991. She was also one of the first female line officers to graduate from the Naval School of Diving and Salvage in Washington DC. Iskra retired after twenty-one years of service; her awards include the Defense Meritorious Service Medal. As a Congressional Fellow for Senator Maria Cantwell, Iskra helped to staff and pass an amendment to the 2003 Defense Authorization Bill prohibiting the Department of Defense to require U.S. servicewomen to wear the abaya while stationed in Saudi Arabia. Iskra is the author of Women in the United States Armed Forces: A Guide to the Issues. The following is an original essay submitted for inclusion in this collection.

  When I first joined the Navy in 1979, the opportunity for command at sea was just not available for women. The only ships that were open to women were a few training ships, like the training carrier USS Lexington and about fourteen active duty repair ships (AR, AD, AS). All of the women who were assigned to these ships were junior officers, ensigns to lieutenants. I was assigned to USS Hector (AR-7), homeported in the San Francisco Bay Area, as the diving officer and the R-5 (Optical and Others) and R-7 (Divers) division officer. While there I qualified as a surface warfare officer. After my two-year stint, I would have liked to go back to sea to keep up with my male counterparts, but there were few sea billets for follow-on tours for women.

  I wound up in San Diego at the Nuclear Weapons Training Group, Pacific. I was assigned as a radiation control instructor and also taught shipboard nuclear weapons safety and nuclear weapons security. Of course that was the time we could neither confirm nor deny the presence of nuclear weapons on any particular platform, but obviously they were somewhere! This was not a career-enhancing job.

  I was supposed to be there three years, but after about a year and a half, I learned of a new rescue and salvage ship that was being built and would accommodate women. So, I contacted my assignment officer (detailer in Navy parlance), and asked to terminate shore duty to go back to sea as operations officer on USS Grasp (ARS-51). The request was approved. As I was saying goodbye to colleagues at NWTGP, one man suggested that I might become the first woman commanding officer of a ship. This was 1984. I thought not.

  I wound up in Norfolk, Virginia (Little Creek Naval Amphibious Base), on USS Grasp as operations officer. After two years I was selected, and served as, executive officer on USS Preserver (ARS-8) for about two years, and then transferred to USS Hoist (ARS-40) as executive officer for another seven months. I needed my engineering duty officer of the watch qualification before I could be selected for command, and I qualified as such while on Hoist. Soon thereafter I was selected for command at sea. WOW!

  It was not a given that I would be assigned to command right away . . . In fact there was a little bit of a controversy between the surface warfare community, which had selected its first women for command in 1989, and the special operations community, of which I was a member, which had selected me in early 1990. The decisio
n of which woman was to get command first went to the chief of Naval Personnel, who at the time was Admiral Jeremy Boorda. Since I actually had more sea time than the other woman, I was selected as the first.

  I attended several pre-commanding officer training courses from June 1990 to November 1990, and then was awaiting orders to my ship, USS Opportune (ARS-41), when on December 24, 1990, I was called upon to travel to Naples, Italy, on December 26 to take command. I was supposed to relieve command in January of 1991, but the commanding officer took ill with stomach cancer and had to be evacuated. I took an emergency change of command on December 27, 1990.

  Since there was no formal ceremony, I was not prepared for the hoopla that accompanied the event. I had arrived in Naples early in the morning of December 27; the ceremony consisted of me getting on the 1MC (the ship’s public address system) and announcing to the crew that I had assumed command. I held a Captain’s Call (a meeting with the crew) on the fantail of the ship later that day after I had a chance to get my bearings . . . briefings with the executive officer and the department heads, as well as the senior enlisted advisor of the ship. Since I was the only woman on the ship at the time, I remember the most pressing question was, “Our bathing area is down the hall from our berthing (sleeping) area . . . how do we get from here to there?” I was confused. I asked, well how do you get there now? They indicated that they went naked or in their underwear . . . so I said, well, just wear a towel or a robe and that will not be a problem! For me it wasn’t, as I rarely spent the mornings in that part of the ship. My concern was what to wear when I was called upon in the middle of the night to go to the bridge . . . I usually wore sweat pants and a T-shirt and sweatshirt to bed so I could get up in the middle of the night without having to worry about being properly clothed.

  The day after I took command, I was asked by the Sixth Fleet public affairs officer to hold a press conference. You have to realize that Desert Shield had started in August 1990 . . . the preparations for war against Suddam Hussein in Iraq. So, in early January 1991, my picture and story were on the front page of most international newspapers throughout the world. I did not realize it at the time, but my husband, a Navy SEAL, was concerned for my safety . . . I had no idea.

  When I reported aboard, I also found on my desk many letters from strangers congratulating me on my achievement. Some of these letters were from people I had known pre-Navy or in the early part of my Navy career . . . It was awesome. I decided that I needed to answer each of my well-wishers with a personal letter. . . . Out of that came friendships with two very special senior citizens, who I continued to communicate with until they passed on, many years later.

  We left Naples in early January, heading towards Taranto, Italy, in the very center of the arch of the heel of the Italian peninsula. Opportune was escorting USS South Carolina, a nuclear-powered cruiser, to the port in case she needed emergency towing assistance. During that port visit, Operation Desert Storm started and both ships were ordered to their respective stations.

  Opportune was ordered to a station about fifty miles from the entrance to the Suez Canal, in case we needed to either defuse mines or help clear the canal of obstacles. We had embarked an explosive ordnance team to help us in this mission.

  The lack of information about the progress of the war in the Middle East, the lack of knowledge about the SCUD missiles that the Iraqis had launched against Israel, and other military maneuvers made us sitting ducks and very nervous. Opportune had very little in the way of defensive weapons (dual .50-caliber machines guns on the port and starboard bow and fantail, which could, in a pinch, deter a small craft; and two 20-mm antiaircraft guns on the port and starboard bridge wings). We were not prepared for war and not trained to deter small craft, let alone a torpedo or air-launched missile. We also had no communication with the civil air patrol craft that, daily, came at us at a very hostile (low-flying) profile. We were on our own.

  Luckily, the worst that happened occurred during a resupply trip in Port Said, at the entrance to the Suez Canal in the Mediterranean. We were ordered to anchor there to get food, mail, and supplies needed for about thirty days of underway steaming. We got into port okay and embarked the husbanding agent, when suddenly all of these small boats started toward the ship and were trying to tie up and come aboard to sell their wares. I was frantic and asked the husbanding agent to keep the boats away, but he was not able to do so. We negotiated that they could tie up alongside so they could sell their goods, but they were not allowed on board. I called this “fantail liberty,” and the crew really enjoyed it. A few of the husbanding agent’s friends were allowed to set up shop on the fantail, but were not allowed on any other part of the ship. Even with this compromise I did not feel comfortable. Luckily, after we received our needed fuel, food, and supplies, we left the harbor without incident. Ten years later USS Cole (DDG-67) in Aden harbor, Yemen, was not so lucky.

  We spent the war outside of the entrance to Suez Canal, our mission being to salvage any ship that happened to hit a mine or was otherwise injured in the Suez Canal, or to defuse any mines that were laid in the canal. We did not have to exercise any of those mission profiles. When the war ended three weeks later, in early February 1991, Opportune continued its Mediterranean deployment and returned to Little Creek, Virginia, to a hero’s welcome in April 1991.

  My command tour would continue for another two years. In March 1993, I was relieved of command prior to Opportune’s decommissioning in June of that year.

  Command is something that most naval officers aspire to. It can be a blessing and a curse depending on your superior officers and your crew. I was blessed with an awesome and supportive crew, especially during Operation Desert Storm. We worked together to try to overcome the disadvantages of being a noncombatant vessel in hostile waters. But the most trying for the commanding officer was to overcome the hostile attitudes of my superiors toward my personal achievement of command. Yes, I was the first woman to command a ship. Yes, I had worked just as hard or harder for this achievement as my male peers. But what I did not get was the mentoring and advice from my seniors that my male peers received. I was left to fend for myself when I made a mistake or a misjudgment.

  Over the years since my command tour I have reconciled my issues. I realize that as a first there are not only roadblocks, but hazards that must be met with honorable intentions, assertiveness, and a willingness to push boundaries that have not been breached. I was not aware of those boundaries, and it caused conflict in my professional and personal life. But in hindsight, I am pleased with my accomplishments and my legacy. I am proud to say I was the first woman to command a ship in the Navy, and I welcome many more women to the fold.

  Mary V. “Ginger” Jacocks

  (1950–)

  U.S. Marine Corps

  Mary “Ginger” Jacocks, from Zachary, Louisiana, joined the Marine Corps in 1974 as an intelligence officer. During her career, she accomplished several “firsts.” She was the first female officer assigned to a combat support operational billet at the regimental level. She was the first female to command a Marine Security Guard battalion, responsible for Marine Security Guards throughout Russia, former Warsaw Pact, Yugoslavia (as it disintegrated), Greece, Turkey, Austria, Germany, and Finland. Jacocks was the first female student to attend and graduate from the Marine Corps War College and the first female faculty adviser at the Marine Corps Command and Staff College. During Operations Desert Shield/Desert Storm, she served as the regimental intelligence officer and provided direct combat service support for the First and Second Marine Divisions. She retired as a lieutenant colonel in 1997. The following excerpt is from an interview published by the Marine Corps History Division.

  From the beginning, we knew that somebody would be going [to deploy]. My first task, because 4th MEB was the first element that went from II MEF, was to decide who to send out of the G-2 to be the S-2 element for the combat service support element of the MEB. . . . We kept the maps every day. It would not be uncommon
for [Brigadier] General Krulak to be over in our section two [or] three days out of the week, stopping by to look at the situation map even though I was giving briefs at the staff meetings. But he would come over and look at the situation. “Okay, what do you think is happening? Why is this happening? Why are they doing this?” And so on. So we pretty much kept up with the running situation and developing our own estimate from day one, whether we were going to go or not, just to keep the general informed.

  • • •

  As the situation progressed, it became a little bit clearer . . . that 2d FSSG was going as a command. Now at that point it was still the policy of the Marine Corps that the women [did] not deploy; however, General Krulak felt very strongly, and I’m sure there were other general officers that felt strongly also, but I know General Krulak felt very strongly that his command had women in critical billets, and in order for the command to be able to carry out its mission, it would need to take its women. And I know that he sent a message to the Commandant relating that feeling in some manner, and shortly after that, it came back and we were told that women filling billets that were required would be deploying. Besides my being the G-2, we had a female as G-1, and the staff [secretary] was a female. There were several women as company commanders in critical billets that needed to go, and there were just too many women [in the unit] to have been able to carry out the mission the way we had trained without us.

  [The interviewer asks about other women in her unit.]

  I had a female gunnery sergeant and a female, I think she was a corporal, when we went over there. She may have been a lance corporal. [Jacocks notes that there were fourteen Marines in her section.]

  [The interviewer asks about the duties of the G-2 in Saudi Arabia with the Direct Support Command.]

  Well, the intelligence function is always to keep the commander informed regarding enemy activity—also responsible for the effects of weather and terrain on operations. With a combat service support element, of course, you also focus on the logistical intelligence that’s required, things like where are the piers, where are our wells, building supplies, MSRs [main supply routes], structures, and things like that.