Rachel Pomeroy - Don’t Thank Me for My Service

 

 

It's 1997. I'm a young officer in the United States Air Force. It is a Saturday night at 01:00 AM-- a muggy Saturday night at 01:00 AM in Fayetteville, North Carolina, and I'm where I should not be alone. I'm at a gas station right outside Fort Bragg by myself. Now, I didn't plan this way. Fayetteville's an army town. And if you've never been to an army town, it's full of strip clubs and pawn shops and bars and lots of things that-- Oh, yeah, and the 50,000, 82nd Airborne infantry, mostly men between the ages of 18 and 35. So, you can imagine Saturday night bar time. 

 

Not a great idea to be alone at a gas station. But I'm just coming off of work and I'm still dressed in my battle dress uniform. And for us, Wisconsinites, that is a camouflage outfit that looks a lot like duck hunting or a packer game outfit without a cheese head in it, [audience laughter] either way. So, there I am, combat boots, the whole camouflage uniform. I'm standing there filling up my car with gas, because I was on empty. That's why I ended up gas station, obviously. I'm hoping to God that I can get that gas tank filled really, really quickly. 

 

However, in the meantime, in flies a Pontiac, red Pontiac, right on cue. Full of guys, the radio's thumping, there's smoke billowing out of it. They all have high and tight haircuts. They're having a good time. And I'm thinking, oh, don't make eye contact. Don't make eye contact. But they're cheering and yelling, and I'm thinking they're just having a good time. And then, all of a sudden, I realize they're jeering and it's at me. And I'm like, “Ugh.” Exactly what I didn't want to happen tonight. 

 

Pretty soon, they were floating some invitations my way to keep things PG. I'll just tell you, it involved one person's face and me in a seating arrangement that I did not want to do. [audience laughter] I was pretty much going to just not say anything, but then I just really started to get angry. I was tired. I hadn't slept in three days, because we'd just done a chemical warfare training exercise on base where I'd been awake wearing a snowmobile suit with a gas mask for 95-degree heat for a couple days. My hair is all matted to my head. I hadn't showered. And here I am like, “Seriously, guys? Seriously? This is what you're after tonight.” 

 

So, anyway, I skipped to the fun part here. It gets worse. I try and say something back to them. I can't keep my mouth in check, you can see. So, I had quickly jump in my car, lock the doors, get out of there. I'm speeding home. I'm looking in the rearview mirror. I'm pretty sure they're going to follow me, but they're not. So, I get home, and then I start to ruminate on this. I'm thinking about it and I'm like, “God, it used to be just that when I go to the gym or I'm running outside, I get the cat calls because I'm not wearing a uniform or I'm going out with my girlfriends and we're all dressed up and we got to go in pairs to the bathroom.” This is like the life that you live in a big army town. 

 

I was really angry, because I was like, “Look, now, I'm in uniform, and this is-- I've drawn this line, and people step over it, and then I draw another line, and they step over it again and pretty soon there's no line. Now, in uniform, am I going to put up with this?” 

 

So, Monday morning, I march into my commander's office. The discussion, by the way, with my friends at the time was, “You have no evidence. It was verbal. Big deal. They didn't physically hurt you. There's a whole lot worse that could have happened. Count your lucky stars. Don't show these guys who you are, because then they'll hunt you down.” But I marched into my commander's office anyway, and I said, “This doesn't fly with me.” And I told him about it and he said, “Well, you can make anonymous statement to the JAG and the MPs.” So, I did that. 

 

A couple days later, he comes back and he says, “I got good news and bad news.” “Okay.” 

He's like, “The good news is they're going to take this to a court martial. The license plate you memorize as you're speeding out of there matches up with the car you just described and we're going to go after these guys.” And I'm like, “Okay. Yay.” And unfortunately, then he said, “The bad news is that you've got to go on record.” So, now, they know my face, they know my car, they know my rank, they know I'm in the Air Force, which is small compared to the army there. And I'm like, “They're going to know where I live, because in 1997, we had these things called phone books that everybody put their address in next to their name. So, they’re going [audience laughter] to pretty quick know where I live.” 

 

I was really torn about whether to do this, but I thought a lot about my image, about what I thought when I came into the military. I saw that recruiting poster, and it's the guy, it's the woman and the man in their uniform, and they're solemnly looking out, and the flag is behind them, and everybody's treated equally and it's all great. Not some jerk ogling you at the gas station with a lit cigarette near your pump. This is not what I pictured. 

 

So, I reported it. And fortunately, they pressed charges and these gentlemen got punished. I had the choice to either be there or not be there. I chose to be there, because I felt that everybody deserves to see their accuser. [audience cheers and applause] 

 

Everybody has the right to see their accuser, I felt. I wanted them to know I am not afraid, even though I am afraid at the time. [audience laughter] But what I felt I was reclaiming was my right to serve with respect.