Beyond the Point

by Claire Gibson

  And finally, my deepest gratitude is and always will be reserved for my husband, Patrick, whose long-suffering patience, love, and kindness have sustained me in every way. Thank you for loving a broken vessel like me. RILY.

  P.S. Insights, Interviews & More . . .*

  About the Author

  * * *

  Meet Claire Gibson

  About the Book

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  How This Book Came to Be

  Photos and Interviews with Women of West Point

  Reading Group Discussion Guide

  About the Author

  Meet Claire Gibson

  An Army kid who grew up at the U.S. Military Academy at West Point, CLAIRE GIBSON is a writer and avid reader whose work has been featured in the Washington Post and the Christian Science Monitor, among many other publications. She lives in Nashville, Tennessee, with her husband, Patrick, and their son, Sam. Visit her website at www.clairegibson.com.

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  About the Book

  How This Book Came to Be

  As an Army brat, it’s hard for me to remember all the houses I’ve lived in because I’ve lived in so many. But I’ll never forget the house on Ruger Road. Like West Point itself, it was built in the 1800s and wasn’t afraid to boast about its history. It was four stories, with a kitchen in the basement and a dumbwaiter that lifted things (like the neighbor’s cat) to the dining room on the second floor. I think it’s condemned now, and probably should have been when we moved in. But I didn’t know the difference. I was only ten. My father, a lieutenant colonel in the U.S. Army with a PhD in systems engineering, had joined West Point’s faculty. All I knew was that we were going to get to stay in one place for a while.

  From 1997 to 2003, our lives focused almost completely on cadets. My father taught them. My mother hosted them. My sisters dated them. And I looked up to them (and, err . . . also dated some). Much like Wendy Bennett, my mom was the perpetual hostess, leading a Fellowship of Christian Athletes huddle, and turning our home into an unofficial bed and breakfast for West Point’s busiest events, like R-Day and graduation.

  Needless to say, we had cadets over constantly. They filled our living room with the smell of sweat and grass. They ate all of the food. And best of all, they would tell stories. (It’s possible I decided I wanted to be a writer listening to Dave Shoemaker tell the one about Naked Man streaking through cadet area.) When I was eleven years old, Matt Kapinos smeared camouflage on my face and taught me how to march, handing me a broom to use as an M16. Female cadets mentored me through an organization called Young Life. At football games, West Point’s cheerleaders, also known as Rabble Rousers, let me on the field and lifted me up in the air. In the summers, my friends and I would sunbathe at Stillwell, watching helicopters fly over with cadets in camouflage hanging out the side.

  I tell people that growing up at West Point was like growing up at Hogwarts. I knew that I was witnessing magic. During those years, it was the beautiful, athletic, confident women that gathered in our living room that intrigued me the most. Could I be like them someday? Could I be that brave?

  In East of Eden, John Steinbeck paints a picture of his hometown of Salinas, California—its landscapes, its smells, its sounds, its people. Once I became a writer, I grew jealous of his muse because my childhood home was never fully mine. I was a bystander, a tagalong—a “dependent” (at least that’s how the Army categorized me). Even as I contemplated writing about West Point, I hesitated, fearing that I wouldn’t do it justice. How could I write about West Point when most of my experiences were from the outside looking in? How could a girl with no class ring touch the long gray line?

  And then, in 2013, a voicemail message landed on my phone that changed everything.

  A friend and West Point graduate called out of the blue. She’d read some of my writing and wondered if I would be interested in writing about women at West Point. “We all have so many incredible stories to tell,” she said, and I knew she was right. I’d lived at West Point long enough to know there was plenty of material for a book, if not ten. At just the right moment, she invited me to lift the curtain and re-experience those years through the lens of female friendship. She invited me back in. I remember raising my eyes to the roof of my car—my hands too— and saying out loud, “Well then. Here we go.”

  The next four years (Yes, FOUR YEARS, people!) were a slog, to say the least. It still cracks me up to think that I’d expected to knock this novel out in eighteen months, tops. But writing a novel is nothing like writing an essay for a newspaper or magazine. I started by interviewing dozens of women about their experiences at West Point and as officers, taking copious notes and recording every word. Many of those women had since gotten out of the Army, and were serving as stay-at-home moms or working in the civilian world. They were breathtakingly vulnerable about it all—the good, the bad, the ugly. Some wished to stay anonymous, others were happy to attach their name to their stories. Most had deployed at least once, if not multiple times. All of them had lost a friend, a classmate, or a spouse to the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan. More than once, as they shared their stories over the phone, I found myself in tears.

  My hope is that Beyond the Point does justice to their stories in a way that is relatable to everyone, not just those “inside” the military community. I know that I’ve only scratched the surface of their experiences—like skipping a stone across a deep reservoir. But I hope through this book to help them feel a bit more understood. Unfortunately, as it stands, the majority of the stories we hear about women in the military focus on nonfiction accounts of sexual assault or the pioneering women who were “firsts.” The first female general. The first female Army rangers. And while those stories are harrowing and inspiring, they also create a sense of distance between the average American woman and the picture of that woman in uniform. Those “first” stories might inadvertently discourage younger women from serving, thinking they aren’t intense enough to join the military. But that couldn’t be further from the truth. The reality is, the Army is full of women just like you and me. Women that have hopes and dreams and friendships and relationships and chipped nail polish and an addiction to Madewell. The world deserves to see more women in uniform in pop culture.

  Writing this book has changed my life. The women who made these pages possible are not just interview subjects; they are my friends. They’ve taught me what it means to go to battle together—in fact, many of them have gone to battle for me, both in my childhood, and now, in my adulthood. And I am forever grateful.

  Photos and Interviews with Women of West Point

  The following are taken from the author’s interviews with Mandy Psiaki (class of ’06), Charlsey Mahle (class of ’04), and Kristin Jenkins Gatti (class of ’03).

  (1) How did you decide to attend West Point?

  Kristin:

  I decided to attend West Point for two reasons. First, I didn’t know what I wanted to do with my life, and at the time, the Army’s motto was “be all you can be,” so the Army seemed like a good place to figure out life. I didn’t want to go to college and schedule my days around getting ready for a frat party. (Although now that I’m nearly twenty years away from having made that decision, I really wish I had been able to plan my days around getting ready for a frat party—at least a few times!) Second, my dad was very sick with cancer, and he wasn’t working enough to pay for college for all four of us kids. I knew I needed a scholarship of some sort.

  What I didn’t know was what West Point was really like. Unfortunately for me, I went for a candidate visit during April of my senior year of high school, after the plebes had been recognized, so I didn’t see any of the yelling or the intense moments to come. I saw springtime and the Hudson and smiling cadets leisurely walking to class on a Friday afternoon. It was really kind of nice. The plebe girls I stayed with helped each other iron their uniforms and chatted about the upperclassmen while they shined their shoes
. It seemed all right. I think those memories helped me get through my own plebe year. I knew what was on the other side of recognition. (By the way, I think my mom stayed with your family that visit, and a few times after I went to West Point. We are very grateful for your family’s hospitality!)

  Kristin dodges the “Ring Poop.” After receiving their class rings, juniors (cows) have to dodge plebes on their way back to the barracks to sign out for the weekend. Plebes surround them and shout, “Oh my god, ma’am! What a beautiful ring! What a crass mass of brass and glass! What a bold mold of rolled gold! What a cool jewel you got from your school! See how it sparkles and shines? It must have cost you a fortune! Please ma’am, may I touch it? May I touch it please, ma’am?”

  Courtesy of Kristin Gatti

  (2) Did anyone try to discourage you from your decision to attend West Point?

  Mandy:

  I remember vividly being interviewed by one of South Carolina’s senators, and at the end of my interview he said, “I would recommend you pursue becoming a pharmaceutical sales person.” At the time, I was pretty offended and wanted to say, “I appreciate your input, but I am here because I want to go to West Point. I am not seeking career guidance.” I felt like I was not taken seriously because I was a female.

  Mandy arrives at West Point for R-Day.

  Courtesy of Mandy Psiaki

  (3) Do you have any memories about a time in your childhood when you realized that you had a different gear than the other kids around you? Over the course of your life, how have you felt about your confidence, and what have you done to enhance or subdue it?

  Charlsey:

  I was raised in a very positive-thinking family. My parents always looked on the bright side, so negativity rarely crossed my mind back then. I was a multi-sport athlete, and I think that really built my confidence. I was also kind of a “comeback kid.” My dad was in prison from when I was born to when I was about six, facing serious drug charges, so doing well in school, earning a spot on the team, and making good grades were all a part of my story as the comeback kid. I had an amazing stepdad, stepbrothers, and several other family [members, and] friends and teachers who encouraged me and helped me make a path to success. My confidence has almost always resided in the idea that I can do anything with Christ. And I’ve also always felt that if I made it this far coming from so little, what can stop me now?

  Charlsey loading a mortar round during Cadet Basic Training, summer 2000.

  Courtesy of Charlsey Mahle

  (4) Many women have shared that while at West Point or in the Army they felt pressure to prove themselves physically in order to gain the respect of their male peers. In your experience, is that true?

  Kristin:

  The male condescension at West Point was kind of a shock to me. As we worked to solve problems in Beast or Buckner, if a woman came up up with an idea, it was rarely accepted by the men. I came into this world fighting, so it was really hard for me to shut up. I was 5’1”, blond, maybe 105 pounds—when I would run my mouth about a better way to do something, I got the eye rolls and sarcasm from the men. Maybe I deserved it, but I can’t help but think if I had looked different, I would have been taken seriously.

  Kristin’s cadet portrait, 2003.

  Courtesy of Kristin Gatti

  Charlsey:

  Oh that’s absolutely true. I feel somewhat traumatized from the pressure to be thin and super fit at West Point. The Army wasn’t quite so bad in that regard—there’s more grace there, but not at West Point. The name calling and degrading of women at West Point really makes women want to be fit and not “one of those” kinds of female cadets (unathletic, out of shape, a disappointment). I suppose in the end the pressure from the men helped me cross the finish line. I never wanted to be known as a girl that couldn’t hack it, so I pushed myself no matter what, so no man would ever see me fail.

  Charlsey with her Beast squad, Cadet Basic Training, 2000.

  Courtesy of Charlsey Mahle

  (5) What are some of the rules and standards you remember hating about West Point that make you laugh now? In what ways did you and your friends get around the rules to have fun?

  Mandy:

  There are almost too many to name. I remember hating the fact that I was supposed to wear my hair in a perfect bun. When I went on a run I had to wear all cadet-issued clothing including the gloves and hat, even though they were bulky and not effective at keeping you warm. I also hated the fact that we had to leave the door to our room open during morning inspection, even if we were trying to study to prepare for a test. Additionally, as a female you never had an opportunity to pick your roommate because there were so few women in your class in each company, so you were generally assigned whoever was available.

  I often broke the rules on cold-weather gear when working out on my own time. And we were only allowed to have a small amount of civilian clothes, so instead of keeping them in the barracks I left them in the volleyball locker room where I would not get caught. One of the things I liked to do when approached by an officer about something I was wearing or doing that was not aligned with cadet standards was say, “Sir/Ma’am, can you repeat that?” I always thought if they had to repeat themselves they may realize how dumb they sounded when confronting me.

  Mandy’s cadet barracks room during Cadet Basic Training, 2004.

  Courtesy of Mandy Psiaki

  Mandy (third from the right) and friends leave campus for an afternoon lunch in Highland Falls. Tim Cunningham (third from the left) tips Mandy’s hat. First Lieutenant Timothy Cunningham died on April 23, 2008, when his vehicle turned over into a canal in Golden Hills, Iraq.

  Courtesy of Mandy Psiaki

  (6) What is one of your favorite stories from training at Camp Buckner as a yearling (sophomore)?

  Kristin:

  So there we were, two squads from my Buckner platoon, on foot in the woods, head-to-toe in our battle gear, completely lost, and led by our very incompetent cadet platoon sergeant. He starts to hear a loudspeaker far away and he’s convinced we have walked back towards Camp Buckner proper. He thinks the loudspeaker is Guard Room making routine announcements. We move towards the sound. The path gets harder to follow and the brush gets thicker and thicker. Of course, I can’t keep my mouth shut, so I start loudly complaining that we are lost and need to turn around. The platoon sergeant gives me some sort of “if you make another peep, so help me” kind of rebuke. (See, I’m not much of a soldier.) Then we hear the loudspeaker start up again and it’s a lot louder. The voice on the loudspeaker says, “go ahead and secure one ten-round magazine and lock and load your weapons!”

  We all immediately freak out, realizing that we are BEHIND THE FIRING RANGE! The new cadets in basic training are firing. All of us hit the dirt and we hear the sound of M16 fire for several minutes. We wait until we hear “no brass, no ammo, sergeant!” (which means that any extra rounds have been turned in—the range is closing). So, we get up, dust off, and start walking towards the range. We emerge through the wood line. Another cadet sees us and announces, “Look, new cadets! These are yearlings!” It was hysterical. (New cadets don’t normally see any yearlings until after the summer is over, because the cadre is made up of only cows and firsties.) Typical Buckner. Getting yourself into tricky situations and then having to wiggle your way out.

  All camo’ed up at Camp Buckner.

  Courtesy of Mandy Psiaki

  (7) What job did you do during your deployment(s)? What were your expectations of deployment (Idealistic? Skeptical?) and how did the reality differ from your expectations? Did you feel that you made an impact?

  Charlsey:

  I was working as the headquarters company commander for the Special Troops Battalion in 4th Infantry Division. Basically, I was part of the support staff for the division commander. My boss was a little off his rocker and had all kinds of bogus ideas about how to keep morale alive and inspire people during the deployment. He came up with an idea to have a 4th of July “fair” of
sorts on the grounds of the division headquarters. He wanted to have camels there that people could ride. So it was my job to find the camels. We housed them in our motorpool for a few days before the 4th of July and then debuted them for the fair.

  It was nuts. We had NO idea how to deal with camels, or what to feed them or anything. My soldiers got such a kick out of it, but when there were people losing their lives out there and encountering danger and gunfire everyday, it really felt odd for this to be a part of my job. I did lots of things along those lines, like dress up like a turkey for Thanksgiving, take care of a pregnant race horse for a general, and countless other things that people would never expect to do during a deployment.

  Mandy:

  I was a finance officer and essentially ran a bank that had an $11 million cash holding limit. I paid out $56 million in Iraqi dinar and U.S. dollars while I was in Iraq. The money was used on various projects—anything from road improvements to reimbursing an Iraqi for a farm animal that we injured unintentionally.

  One of the most impactful things I did while I was deployed was work at a burn clinic for Iraqis that was sponsored and run by American medics. Almost all of the burn victims were women and children (mostly girls) and that is because being burned was a form of punishment and something that men would not do to other males. There were little girls who came in that had been dipped in oil and had burns all the way up their legs. The craziest part of all is that oftentimes it was their fathers who brought them to the clinic. It was hard for me to understand how someone could hurt a child and then ask for medical help. But we helped anyway.