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Robin Coyle

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Robin Coyle

Tag Archives: Daughter in the Army

Our Daughter is Home Safe and Sound from Afghanistan . . . Thank Goodness

21 Tuesday Jun 2016

Posted by robincoyle in In Search . . .

≈ 50 Comments

Tags

Daughter in the Army, Welcome Home, writers, writing

I didn’t know it, but my body has been clenched for nine months. It unclenched with a whoosh when I received this text from our daughter who has been stationed in Afghanistan for the past nine months:

“I’m in New Hampshire!!!!”

My toes, hair follicles, teeth, gut, and every other body part you can think of relaxed as soon as I read those four words. (Can hair follicles clench? I think so. Mine did.)

Our daughter’s Army unit is finally stateside and they are all in one piece. Weary, but whole.Thank the lord.

During her deployment, many people asked me/said:

“How are you doing?”

“It must be terribly hard for you.”

“I can’t imagine how worried you must be.”

“Do you think about it night and day?”

My pat answer was, “I don’t think about it.”

That isn’t entirely true because I thought about her deployment nonstop. However, I didn’t allow those thoughts to enter my pea-brain. Otherwise, I would have been more of a raving lunatic of worry than I already am.

That would have done no one any good. And I don’t look good in a straight-jacket.

Plus, all my worries wouldn’t have changed the fact that our daughter was called to do what she has always wanted to do . . . serve her county.

And she did so brilliantly. She was the only female in her unit and immediately assumed a leadership role among her peers. She received a commendation by the Major General at Bagram Air Force Base for selfless service during the Women’s History Month celebration in March. Think speeches, framed certificate, write-up in the newspaper, and after-party complete with a sheet cake heavily frosted in red, white, and blue.

The nature of her work in Afghanistan is top-secret (I think James Bond was in her unit) so we don’t know what she exactly did to deserve the selfless service award, but I’m sure it wasn’t making coffee for the General.

As she put it, her unit was doing badass intelligence work to get the bad guys. And they got ‘em. Or, at least some of them. Unfortunately, more  brave soldiers remain in Afghanistan to deal with the others who want to cause harm.

Our daughter is back at her dutybase for a few weeks and then gets a two-week leave to come home. I’ve lined up menus of every comfort food I can think of, already have beer chilling on ice, clean sheets on her bed await, a beach towel is laid out on the chaise by our pool, and a welcome home party with our friends and family is on the books.

She may be in bed or on the pool chaise for the entire party and if she is, I can’t say I would blame her.

It is funny, in a not-so-funny way, how the mind can compartmentalize worry, fear, dread . . . whatever. I allowed that fear to pop its ugly head out for brief moments and then would busy myself with putting together a care package to send to her instead of wallowing in my angst.

As William F. Buckley, Jr. said, “Industry is the enemy of melancholy.”

Amen to that, Bill.

I made myself industrious for nine months. Maybe now I can relax. Or at least relax until her next deployment.

IMG_7412

Our daughter is such a delicate flower. I mean, badass. Welcome home, honey.

 

P.S. Our daughter entered the Army in July of 2012. For those of you have been around this blog since 2012, you might remember that I did a series of blog posts that recapped her letters home from bootcamp. If I do say so myself, the posts are entertaining. I can say that because the words in those posts are hers. She did a great job of capturing her experience. I’ll say this . . . her idea of fun is way different than mine. If interested, click on July 2012 on the top-ish left side of this humble blog.

Our Daughter Entered the Army ~ An Update ~ Part 13

04 Tuesday Sep 2012

Posted by robincoyle in In Search . . .

≈ 26 Comments

Tags

Daughter Enters Army, Daughter in the Army, Daughters in the Army, writers, writing

Part 1 of Amanda’s letter dated August 19, 2012 recapped Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday. The grueling days included a 3-mile Ability Group Run, marching to the Engagement Skills Trainer in “Full Battle Rattle” for shooting practice, Concurrent Training, Muscle Failure Physical Training, Advanced Rifle Marksmanship, shooting at night with Night Vision Goggles, infrared lasers, and close combat optics, grenade throwing, and sleeping on an ant-infested field of sand. Yowza!

Part 2 picks up with Thursday.

Letter Ten Dated August 19, 2012 ~ Part 2

We were allowed to sleep in until 0630 on Thursday and didn’t have to do Physical Training. That sounded like a wonderful surprise until we realized that was because we had combatives. The “warm-up” for combatives takes 45 minutes and exhausts your whole core. There is no way I can describe them in a letter. I’ll have to demonstrate them in person. Then maybe mom can write about these exercises beautifully. 

(Quit guffawing. I didn’t add that last line.)

After combatives we sparred within each Platoon with pads and a pugil stick. It is to imitate bayonet training. We were given foam Q-tip-looking sticks and we hit each other with them. It was so much fun. We were all in a circle and picked people to fight, cheering each other on, and laughing. It was a really cool thing to do after two long days in the field. I lost my round, but only at the end. I didn’t wear my ankle brace like a dumbass so my ankle quit after about a minute and a half of round two. Plus, there is no technique to it. It feels like pillow fighting for a crowd. You just kinda swing and hope something sticks.

(Finally! They had some fun!)

(I thought pugil stick pillow-fighting sounded like fun until I watched that video.)

Friday we went back to the Reception building to get our Dress Blues, or Army Service Uniforms. Reception is where I was when I first got here for in-processing. That place is miserable compared to here. When I arrived at the base I really didn’t notice. I was so fueled with adrenalin, anxiety, and a little cockiness, it didn’t faze me at the time. But the facilities . . . OMG! At Basic Combat Training we are in brand new facilities and they are gorgeous. Thanks to “Don’t ask, don’t tell” being repealed, everyone gets their own shower stall and bathroom stall. There is air-conditioning and enough space to open our wall lockers. OMG, it is fantastic.

At Reception, there is none of that. We were there forever getting our uniforms. So, we were up early, as in 0300, and went to bed around midnight. Oh, we arrived at Reception in time for breakfast. And my God, that was disgusting. Runny eggs, undercooked cold bacon, and hard pancakes.  How I didn’t notice how horrible it was when I was there is beyond me. Our dining facility is awesome by comparison. In fact, I think they plan when we go back to Reception on purpose . . . because it is like just when you’ve had enough chicken and rice to last you a lifetime and you can’t help but hate the dining facility, they take you to Reception and your whole perspective changes. All of a sudden we couldn’t wait for dinner chow’s chicken and rice. Not tonight though!!! Tonight is Sunday and that means hamburgers!!!!

(Simple pleasures.)

If you get kicked out of Basic, you don’t get to go home right away. It takes a long time . . . even if it is injury-related. They send you back to Reception. They say the quickest way to leave is by graduating, so quitting is NOT an option. I can’t imagine being stuck back at Reception for weeks, literally.

To tease you for the next post with Part 3 of her letter, I give you her next two lines . . . 

Saturday. Oh man, Saturday . . .

 

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Our Daughter Entered the Army ~ An Update ~ Part 12

31 Friday Aug 2012

Posted by robincoyle in In Search . . .

≈ 60 Comments

Tags

Daughter Enters Army, Daughter in the Army, Daughters in the Army, writers, writing

The latest letter from Amanda is 14-pages long so I will share the letter with you in installments.

Put on your “Full Battle Rattle” for this one!

Letter Ten Dated August 19, 2012 ~ Part 1

Hola Rental Units!

OMG! I’ve been so busy!

Let’s start with Monday. We woke up at the normal time, 5 am, and did an Ability Group Run (AGR). We ran 3 miles in 24 minutes. It’s not too fast or far from what I’ve done in the past, but for some reason, it killed us all. Especially those with injuries. Maybe it is because we are running in formation.

After the AGR, we put on our “Full Battle Rattle” (bulletproof vest, load-bearing vest, Army combat helmet, assault pack, and Camelback) and marched to the Engagement Skills Trainer (EST) where we practiced firing with everything on. While we waited for our turn, we had “Concurrent Training.” That is where we practice what we will be doing later that week. We all hate Concurrent Training. It feels repetitive and pointless. We understand that “practice makes perfect,” but Concurrent Training is like fake practicing considering the real training is the real practice for battle. It is like you have your soccer game (battle), practices (training), moving like you’re going to kick the ball when you don’t have a ball (Concurrent Training).

Now that everyone has formed cliques and made friendships, Concurrent Training is also where we get yelled at more because it is so much more tempting to talk and f**k off. Luckily we didn’t have to do a lot of the crawling in the sand bullshit I was dreading because it was a Heat Cat V. Well, everyday is Heat Cat V, but that day it felt like Heat Cat XXV. We had to march back in that disgusting heat.

I took the bus to the hospital to reload my pain meds for my ankle. Now that my ankle is starting to feel better, I can stay with the main group during AGRs. I rarely find an occasion where I need to take the pain meds 3x a day. They make me sleepy and a little out of it. Plus, unless it is a big physical day (i.e., road march, AGR, etc.), then I’m just loading myself up on them and they don’t really do the trick when I need them.

There are two people here with horrible injuries and they are afraid to go to the hospital this late in the game. You don’t get to Week 7 and fall out. One has a knee injury and we are pretty sure it is torn. The other has hip pain. I know that doesn’t sound like a big deal, but at Fort Jackson it is standard when there is a hip complaint to immediately be put on crutches and have a bone scan in case of stress fractures. So, I’ve been saving my meds away like you store food for a bad winter. Also, I save them for big events, like for our final Physical Training test next Saturday (Already! Can you believe it?)

Monday ended with dinner chow, mail call, shower time, and bed because Tuesday was going to be a hell of a day.

Tuesday we had Muscle Failure Physical Training and Advanced Rifle Marksmanship (ARM), which includes shooting at close range while moving like what they are doing in Iraq and Afghanistan now. Basic Rifle Training (BRT) is just prone and kneeling position while firing at pop-up targets anywhere from 50 – 300 meters away. Both have their challenges. BRM takes a lot more skill shooting-wise. Trigger squeeze, breath, aim. All that can f**k up your shot. In ARM however, you quickly lift your weapon and shoot. But because you are in full gear and moving, it is much more physically exhausting. It is pretty fun though. We were using laser sights so you never miss. You can’t help but feel badass.

English: Soldier wearing night vision goggles.

Not Amanda wearing night vision goggles. (Photo credit: Wikipedia

Later that night, once it got dark, we shot wearing Night Vision Goggles (NVGs) and infrared lasers. That was really cool too. Those things are amazing. Hard to get used to though because you have no peripheral vision, so you feel clumsy walking around. Or, maybe you just feel hammered. 

Oh, this day we were shooting M-4s. The M-4 has a smaller barrel so it weights a little less by itself, but we had the lasers and close combat optics mounted on it, making it heavier. Supposedly, the M-16 only weights 7 pounds, but when you are getting smoked holding it above your head for 30 minutes, it feels more like 75 pounds.

The only problem with using all this badass equipment was we only have 30 lanes set-up during the day and 10 lanes at night. We have more than 10 NVGs but when you have a bunch of brand-new shooters firing live rounds in the dark, you want to have plenty of safety, so each lane needed a Drill Sergeant.  So, while we waited, we did more Concurrent Training. Awesome.

However, next week is grenade throwing so that was one of our Concurrent Training stations. I was in charge of the grenade section seeing as I’m the only one who has actually thrown live grenades. God, that felt good. I honestly love teaching. Absolutely no one wants to be a Drill Sergeant because it sucks. You have to deal with dumbass Privates, repeat yourself over and over, and you work way longer hours than any other non-deployed soldier. But (and this is something I would never tell my Platoon or Drill Sergeant), part of me thinks I would enjoy the job in the future. It was a lot of fun. People actually enjoyed my lane because I made games of it and used analogies to explain procedures. I explained why we do each step so everyone understood it, instead of just blindly obeying orders and following like cows in a herd.

All that made for an epic-long-day. You can’t shoot with NVGs until it is dark so that didn’t start until 2100 (9:00 for you civilians), which is normally lights-out. People were on the range until midnight. Then, we loaded on a bus and moved to a second range where we were to sleep until 3 am and then do more shooting in the dark. Since we were only getting a few hours of sleep, I didn’t bother with my sleeping bag. I just took out my poncho, laid down on it, and passed out. 3 am rolls around and fire guard wakes everyone up. We all packed up and start personal hygiene. I got a battle buddy to come with me to the use the latrine. The bathroom felt like it was a mile away because I was so tired, but it was probably just a football field. I got back and no other Platoon was moving and no Drill Sergeant in sight. We all passed out again.  My poncho was packed-up so I just curled up on the ant-infested sand they have in South Carolina. Drill Sergeants didn’t wake us up until 0615!!! We were all so pissed and confused as to what was going on. Apparently, that night, the Drill Sergeant figured rushing to get night shooting done at 3 am with Privates who had no sleep wasn’t smart. So, they changed back to normal wake-up time. They just forgot to tell us. Cool.

Oh, I forgot to mention that at the beginning of the week they chose a Platoon Guide, Assistant Platoon Guide, and 4 Squad Leaders. I wasn’t picked. I was kinda shocked and disappointed in myself. A lot of people were surprised. I have no idea why I wasn’t picked. It could be because I already have a lot of responsibilities. Could be because they are given to people they want to see more from, or it could be because I have been slipping recently. I don’t know why I have. I’ve just been exhausted and frustrated with everyone so I’ve learned to pick my battles, like when it is important to square people away. I’m just so sick of people who don’t know what they are doing telling me what to do, so I’ve been kinda ignoring people. That way, I don’t go ape shit on someone and get kicked out.

So yeah, we had two long-ass days in the field on the shooting range. Lots of fun, but like I said, exhausting, It is hot, the gear is heavy, your back and shoulders ache, neck hurts, and your constantly soaking wet with sweat. That means every time you sit, are in the prone, kneeling, or whatever, that sand sticks to your uniform and rubs in all the worst spots. It is crazy. Oh, and the smell!! OMG!! Horrible!!

Anyone else exhausted after reading what Amanda is going through? What the hell is “Muscle Failure Physical Training?”

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Our Daughter Entered the Army ~ An Update ~ Part 11

30 Thursday Aug 2012

Posted by robincoyle in In Search . . .

≈ 49 Comments

Tags

Daughter Enters Army, Daughter in the Army, Daughters in the Army, writers, writing

Remember Amanda’s letter where she wrote about her Platoon going to the rifle range to “group and zero” their M-16s? I thought you would enjoy this photo of Amanda next to her target. You can see, first-hand, the tight pattern of her shots. The tight pattern was the first thing my husband noticed. The first thing I noticed was she is in one piece. You can also see her cool Birth Control Glasses. The glasses don’t hide the intense look in her eye though. That is our Amanda!

I snagged the photo off her Platoon’s Facebook page. I know, I know . . . no razors, telephones, or computer access, but someone in the Army is maintaining their Facebook page. There is irony in there somewhere, but I can’t put my finger on it. If you want to check out their page, here is the link ~ Delta Company

Tomorrow, I will start posting her latest 14-page (yes, 14 pages) letter in a series of installments. I needed a nap and an aspirin after reading it. Interesting (read, harrowing) stuff.

P.S. Your letters are in the mail with guaranteed delivery by Saturday. I have a couple straggler letters (thanks stragglers!) and will send them off tomorrow by priority mail. You folks are A-Maze-Ing. Bless you all.

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Your Letters to Amanda et al Arrived!

28 Tuesday Aug 2012

Posted by robincoyle in In Search . . .

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Tags

Daughter Enters Army, Daughter in the Army, Daughters in the Army, writers, writing

Oh. Em. Gee. I opened my mailbox today. And then what happened, you ask? To steal a favorite line from Dr. Seuss’ How the Grinch Stole Christmas, “ Well, in Whoville they say that the Grinch’s small heart grew three sizes that day.”

My mailbox was filled with your letters for Amanda and her fellow soldiers, and my heart about burst with thanks. Thank you, thank you, thank you. The bundle is shipping off to South Carolina tomorrow.

If you want to send the soldiers an email via me, there is still time! My email address is robincoyle@gmail.com.

I love you guys!

Our Daughter Entered the Army ~ Part 10 ~ Plus a Note from Rebecca!

27 Monday Aug 2012

Posted by robincoyle in In Search . . .

≈ 44 Comments

Tags

Daughter Enters Army, Daughter in the Army, Daughters in the Army, writers, writing

For those just tuning in, our daughter entered the Army at the beginning of July. She is stationed at Fort Jackson, South Carolina for ten weeks of Army Basic Training. Sharing Amanda’s letters with you is a privilege.

The second letter in this post is from Amanda’s friend Rebecca . . . her fellow soldier at Basic. I sent Rebecca a letter and care-package after learning from Amanda that the dear girl was the only one in their Platoon who hadn’t received a letter from home.

Letter Nine Dated August 12, 2012

(Notes in parentheses are mine.)

Mamacita y Papa Coyle!

It is crazy how much places like this make you appreciate your family. With your family you can be completely pissed off at someone one second, and then the next you’re perfectly fine and ready to move on. Here, people hold grudges. Someone told me today that they are still mad at me about something I said to her a week and a half ago. She’s the voodoo freak. Not sure if I told you or my sisters about her.

(Nope, wasn’t us. Can’t wait to hear about the “voodoo freak.”)

Regardless, I really miss my family. When we first got here, the Drill Sergeant said it was okay for us to have personal photos. I thought, “Why do we need photos? We’re only here for ten weeks. And yet, a couple weeks in, and I asked you to send photos. I think part of the reason I wanted pictures is to show people I’m not as ugly in real life as I am now! Ha ha!

(I’m sure they can see through the dust, sweat, and grime, honey.)

Army combat helmets

Amanda’s stylish headwear. Army combat helmets (Photo credit: The U.S. Army)

But really, thank you for being so supportive. It means so much to me and keeps me going when I hate it here. Our phone call rejuvenated me. Thank God too, because this up-coming week is going to be long. We have Advanced Rifle Marksmanship (ARM), which means firing in “Full Battle Rattle” . . . that includes our bulletproof vest, our load-bearing vest, and our Kevlar helmet.

 

(Ha! “Full Battle Rattle.” Maybe the Army does have a sense of humor.)

We are also learning Individual Movement Techniques (IMT – the Army loves acronyms). That is the low-crawl, high-crawl, and 3- to 5-second buddy rush. It is how to move when you are under fire. I’ve done this a lot before and it is cool for, like two minutes, because you feel like you are in the movies. But then, and very quickly, you are filthy, exhausted, and getting yelled at to get down. It is frustrating because no one is actually shooting at you, so it seems pointless and you start hating life.

We will also be doing the low-crawl under barbed wire at night with live-fire overhead. That is going to be intense.

Mom, I wasn’t able to log-on to your blog last night. I really wanted to, but between the phone call to guys, and to Jill and Paige (Amanda’s sisters), it took up our two-hours of phone privileges. Paige said I’m famous though, so I’m anxious to read it!

Okay, bed time!! Long week ahead. Your support means the world to me! Thank you for it all!!

Love, Amanda

~~~~~

Thank you note from Rebecca for the care-package I sent.

Dear Mrs. Coyle,

Thank you so much for the creating a sure beautiful and amazing daughter. I have no idea how I would have gotten this far without her. She keeps our whole Platoon running smoothly (especially the females). Thank you for the care-package. I appreciate your kind heart. Now I can see where Amanda gets it. I have no idea what was up with my parents. I guess they just got a late start on writing letters. I hope I get to meet you soon. Again, thank you so much for everything.

~ Rebecca

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Our Daughter Entered the Army ~ An Update ~ Part 9

24 Friday Aug 2012

Posted by robincoyle in In Search . . .

≈ 57 Comments

Tags

Daughter Enters Army, Daughter in the Army, Daughters in the Army, writers, writing

Here is a nice long letter from our daughter Amanda who is at Army Basic Training at Fort Jackson, South Carolina.

Letter Eight Dated August 5, 2012

(Notes in parentheses are mine. Since the letter is long, I kept my notes to a minimum.)

Hey Rental Units!

I honestly don’t know how you time stuff so perfectly. Friday was a shitty, shitty day and somehow the “mail gods” knew it and your letters and packages arrived. I was seriously on the verge of hurting someone and you were my saving grace. Let me back up a couple of days to fill you in . . .

Wednesday, we went to the shooting range to “group and zero” our M-16s. (Think target practice and sighting in the gun.) I was “battle buddied” with a pathetic shot. She went first and so I didn’t even touch my weapon until after lunch. While it took that girl over a hundred shots, she still didn’t zero. Me, I grouped and zeroed in 20 shots. It was a blessing and a curse. Cool because my Drill Sergeant just looked at me and said, “You can shoot.” It felt like the best compliment in the world. But, then, no more shooting for me. Only 20 rounds and I was finished.

Thursday was a free day for those already grouped and zeroed. Kinda. We cleaned our weapons, practiced trigger squeezes, and breathing techniques for shooting. Boring.

And then we come to Friday. My Platoon stayed back to do more practice and weapon cleaning. (It sounds like we have a lot of free time but really we aren’t allowed to do anything. We aren’t even supposed to talk, but of course that doesn’t happen. I can’t stay silent all day.) We were setting up our shooting drills when the Battalion Commander came outside. Each time an officer comes around we are to call the Platoon to attention, salute, and say “Good morning/afternoon sir/ma’am.” Well, the person who called us to attention forgot to say “Good morning,” so the Commander started to smoke us. But everyone was moving really slow and he started yelling, then people would drop to their knees so more sets kept coming til we could get it right.

(Not sure what that means . . . push-ups?)

 

United States Army Basic Training

Amanda is not in this picture. United States Army Basic Training (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

It just so happens our Drill Sergeant came by and saw his Big Boss smoking his Privates who were half-assingly doing it. The Battalion Commander even said, “You are embarrassing your Drill Sergeant right now.” As soon as he left, our Drill Sergeant sent us up to the Bay to “toe the line” (That is, stand on the line around our bunks leaving the “kill zone” (center) open for him, just like the movies. He promised to “make it rain inside” (our sweat dripping from the walls) that night.

Also, because of that, we had to do “area beautification” instead of shooting drills. That means we mowed, raked, and pulled weeks in this huge field behind our building, all the time knowing we were going to die that night. Our Drill Sergeant is pretty cool, but he has an anger light switch and we do not doubt him when he says stuff like “making it rain inside.”

After seven hours of baking in this South Carolina heat (seriously, I have never sweat like this before. My shins sweat. I don’t even have shin guards on), we went to chow. No one ate because we knew it would end up all over the floor. We went to the Bay, but first, the Drill Sergeant had four people get “ice sheets” (for if someone passes out) and a first aid bag to put in the Bay with us.  He then left us on the line at attention staring at the ultimate doom of first aid and ice sheets, knowing it was serious.  He joked with us the following day about his mind-trick. I mean, it worked. We were all scared shitless. After five minutes of waiting, he came in and we just got smoked. But first, and most humiliating of all, he had us put our Camelback drinking tube in our mouth like a pacifier because “if you want to act like babies, you should look like babies.”

Then we did a million push-ups and flutter kicks, and on and on. He said we would go that way until lights-out. Eventually, during the 8-count push-up (position of attention – push-up position – push-up – push-up – push-up – position of attention), one of our most athletic dude’s leg cramped up like you see on TV when they grab their leg and curl up in pain, so we got to stop. I can’t even remember if the “walls were raining.” We had ten minutes to shower and get back to the classroom. (Oh, I forgot to mention, that morning we had 60 – 120 intervals on the track also. I could hardly move by the end of the day.)

Once we got to the classroom, though, he had calmed down and we got our mail. It just perfectly happened to be the time I got your letters, and letters and a package from Jill and Paige (her sisters). I honestly could have cried from happiness and exhaustion. Thank you so much for everything in the care-package.

Jill and Paige sent the cutest letter, some Sudoku books, and a novel. Unfortunately, the only things I can use now are the letters. But that still made my day. And now I have so much to look forward to once I get my personal bag back after graduation. Mom, that picture you sent me is great. (I sent a photo of our family drinking my husband’s homebrew beer at our cabin.) I taped it over my bunk like the girls do in the movies at summer camp. It sounds lame, I know, but it is a nice little escape from here. My Drill Sergeant looks through the photos to make sure they are appropriate. He asked me if you guys sent me the one with the beer in it to tease me. I cannot wait until I can drink one of Dad’s beers with you guys again.

We got in trouble again so now no phone until at least the 7th week. I did, however, get one girl a phone call. Her mom has cancer and she hadn’t heard anything from her, so I talked to the Drill Sergeant on my own. I said the rest of us would do extra duty so she can call home.

We had a lot of fun yesterday. We went to the shooting range where we shot at 175- and 300-meter targets.  I honestly didn’t do too hot and got a little frustrated. The Drill Sergeant said he was disappointed. That stung. I felt like I let him down. But the range was fun. On good day, it’d be super cool. And we got to talk while we waited so it was like a party. Plus, after lunch, the Drill Sergeant did a singing/rapping contest so we got some fun in.

You know, they say being at Basic is supposed to change you. The Drill Sergeant keeps saying we won’t recognize ourselves after it. I don’t think that is the case for me though, probably because I am older than the others and I kicked ass at ROTC. It is hard to stay strong here though. Or even to stay a leader because that is not the stuff the Drill Sergeant notices and everyone else fights you the whole way.

To answer some of your questions Mom, we’ve seen very little of the Olympics. We get nothing from the real world. They did tell us about the shooting in Colorado in order to see if any Colorado people needed to call home. Dad sent me a newspaper clipping and technically even that is contraband. There isn’t a break room because there is no break time. The showers/bathroom are almost exactly like high school. We get to clean the bathroom every night while on fireguard. I’ll do the sinks after I read Dad’s letter. Dad, your cards always make my day . . . and my Drill Sergeant’s day. He likes to throw our mail at us, so the cards are his favorite because they get speed and distance.

Well, that was a long letter! Sorry! I know it sounds like I’m complaining, but mostly, I’m just telling you the interesting parts, which happens to be the shitty ones. I do like everything here. I’ll be happy when it is over though!

Miss and love you!

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Want to Write a Letter to Amanda’s Platoon?

21 Tuesday Aug 2012

Posted by robincoyle in In Search . . .

≈ 45 Comments

Tags

Daughter Enters Army, Daughter in the Army, Daughters in the Army, writers, writing

You folks are amazing. Truly. Amazing.

The flood of love and support for Amanda, Rebecca, and the rest of the soldiers in her Platoon moved me to tears yesterday.

When Amanda jumped into action to “fix” Rebecca’s sadness, I thought to myself, “Well, that’s my Amanda.” Your reaction to her actions reminded me what a sweet and thoughtful girl she is. I don’t take it for granted, but I do take it as a part of the fabric of her being.

I’m sure this is exactly how the mailbox looks on the Army base.
Free image courtesy of FreeDigitalPhotos.net”

Many of you want to write a note to Rebecca and Amanda, and/or the whole Platoon. The gesture is lovely and noble, but I worry about putting Rebecca in an awkward position . . . and making her feel singled out as a charity case. Also, she might get mad at Amanda for “outing” her situation.

As such, I would like to suggest this . . . If you are moved to write a note of support to a member of the Platoon, great! If you would like to write to Amanda because of what you have read here, awesome! If you want to send, as JKeller Ford suggested, Un-Birthday Cards,” fantastic!

Send your notes, cards, and letters to me at:

Delta Company – Strykers

c/o Robin Coyle

9747 Weddington Circle

Granite Bay, CA 95746

I will bundle the mail up and send all the notes to Amanda. My cover letter to her will say something like, “Because of your letters on my blog, my readers want to show their support for you and your Platoon’s efforts. Please pass these notes and cards out to the folks who haven’t received much mail, or have the whole Platoon read them.” She’ll know how to handle it.

One last thing . . . and important to note!

Basic Training is over September 13th. They say to stop sending mail to the soldiers by August 31st because it won’t reach them in time. If you want to send some mail to Amanda’s Platoon via moi, time is of the essence!

Gosh, you guys are wonderful!

 

 

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Our Daughter Entered the Army ~ An Update ~ Part 8

20 Monday Aug 2012

Posted by robincoyle in In Search . . .

≈ 101 Comments

Tags

Daughter Enters Army, Daughter in the Army, Daughters in the Army, writers, writing

This letter from Amanda will break your heart.

Letter Seven Dated July 31, 2012

(Notes in parentheses are mine.)

Hey Mamacita,

I’m dropping you a quick note to ask a huge favor. Remember I mentioned my friend Rebecca? She is the only one in my Platoon who hasn’t received a letter from home. I don’t know what her family’s deal is. Seriously, mail is the best part of the day. I honestly treasure every letter and read them several times. I am hoping you would send Rebecca a short letter and a small care-package . . . a couple of handy things like baby-wipes, deodorant . . . you know the deal. It would be so nice. The letter could just say something like you are glad I made a friend and I would be complaining so much more if it weren’t for her.

We seriously need mail here. She is so strong, just like me, but after of month of no word from home, and our Drill Sergeant saying it is because no one loves her, she cried today. Really shitty. I know it is a lot to ask but I don’t know how else to help her. If you don’t have time, don’t worry about it.

I love you and miss you.

XOXO

(After I dried my tears, I made a mad dash for the drugstore and put together a care-package for Rebecca. I included a letter thanking her for her service and friendship with Amanda.)

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Our Daughter Entered the Army ~ An Update ~ Part 7

17 Friday Aug 2012

Posted by robincoyle in In Search . . .

≈ 78 Comments

Tags

Daughter Enters Army, Daughter in the Army, Daughters in the Army, writers, writing

Another letter from our daughter at Army Basic Training at Fort Jackson, South Carolina.

Letter Six Dated July 29, 2012 ~ Summarized

(Notes in parentheses are mine.)

Hey, Hey Madre y Padre!

I realized all of my letters have had a lot of Army jargon so I’m going to take some time to let you know what it is like here.

I am a member of the 1st Platoon in Delta Company. There are four Platoons in Delta, which is part of a Regiment with six other companies. We do all of our classroom and group training with our platoon. Our big training (foot marches, field training exercises, etc.) is with the whole company. Each Platoon has three Drill Sergeants and around 50 Privates in four squads.

(She drew an org chart for us too.)

I’m pretty sure I would be friends with my Senior Drill Sergeant if we were in a different setting. He is the highest-ranking Drill Sergeant in the company, and is Infantry, Ranger, and Sniper qualified. He is one scary dude when he is mad at us, but he pushes us harder than any other Drill Sergeant pushes their Platoon. I’d much rather have that than someone who didn’t care or babied us.

(Can I baby you when you get home?)

Last Friday, we did the obstacle course. It was awesome and a butt kicker of a work out. I was on the 1st Platoon’s team and competed against the other Platoons. Well, there was one obstacle where we went over three walls and under three beams. It rained the night before so there was a huge puddle on the far side of each wall. I went over two of the walls and on the third twisted my ankle, but still finished like a badass and road-marched back. The next day, we had a physical fitness test, so I got up a 4 am, iced my ankle, and took the test. My sit-ups and push-ups were good, but my run wasn’t so hot. I was in a good amount of pain, plus exhausted and sore from the day before. All of us who competed in the obstacle course struggled on the test.

I didn’t go to sickbay for a few reasons:

  1. You gotta go in the morning, and Saturday after the physical fitness test it was too late.
  2. It is closed on Sundays so you would have to go to the hospital instead . . . uh . . . NO.
  3. The next week we had our first official road-march, day and night land navigation, the gas chamber, and our field training exercise. These are required events and a pain to make up.
  4. I didn’t want to be a wimp. So many people are hobbling around here, mostly faking it, in order to get out of training. Plus, the Drill Sergeants have to deal with those losers all the time, so complaining didn’t seem like an option.

So I drove on. It hurt like a bitch but I still beat most people, if not everyone, at the stuff we had to do. But, on Friday morning we had a group run and part of the warm-ups were “high-knees” and I felt the pain all through the back of my heel.  I fell out of the pack on our run.

I went to sick call on Saturday and they sent me to the Troop Medical Clinic. The doctor told me I injured my Achilles Heel and gave me some pain meds. Most injuries, you get put on “profile.” That means the doctor specifies what you can and cannot do. I made sure to tell the doc, “NO PROFILE.” He was pretty cool about it but I need a brace because if it rips through all the way, I’ll need surgery. My brace is a huge metal thing I can hardly fit in my boot. I’m part robot now!

Good news though. I was worried about my Drill Sergeant thinking I was weak. But since the night before was peer reviews, he already knew I am a strong soldier. When I got back from the Clinic, one of the other Drill Sergeants said to him, “Hey, your Private Coyle tore her Achilles. How f**ked up is that?” (This was overheard by me . . . they were in the back room.)

My Drill Sergeant responded, “No. F**k. That right there is my best Private!”

Then he yelled, “Coyle, what the f**k did you do? You going home?”

I said, “No Drill Sergeant! And no profile Drill Sergeant!”

“F**k yeah, Private!”

(During a high school soccer game, Amanda collided with an opponent and sat out of the game for a few minutes. She begged the coach to put her back in and Amanda played out the game. Her ankle was swollen that night and the next day, so I took her in for X-rays. You guessed it, BROKEN. Talk about high pain-tolerance.)

The Sergeant and I talked about some of the training, like “high knees,” that really screws me up. He said since I am not a “f**ked up Private,” he’ll let me pick and choose what I should not do to abuse my heel. And two days ago, I thought he didn’t know me! Now he does and looks out for me. He also has been harder on me and points out my little mistakes so everyone can hear. I know it’s only been two days since, but trust me, there’s a lot of stuff he finds to yell about. I hope is it because he is getting ready to put me in an official leadership role.

Love ya and miss ya!

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Our Daughter Entered the Army ~ An Update ~ Part 6

15 Wednesday Aug 2012

Posted by robincoyle in In Search . . .

≈ 65 Comments

Tags

Daughter Enters Army, Daughter in the Army, Daughters in the Army, writers, writing

Here is another letter from Amanda giving us insight on life as a soldier at Army Basic Training.

Letter Five Dated July 27, 2012 ~ Summarized

(Notes in parentheses are mine.)

(If you recall, I sent a care-package to Amanda, but it crossed paths with her letter asking us to send her some things . . . face wash, conditioner, etc. She sent this letter after she received the care-package.)

Hey Hey Rental Units!

Holy smokes! What an amazing freaking care-package. Mom, if you weren’t writing a novel (which I’m still impressed brought me to tears and am anxious to read again), a writing tips book, and a blog, I’d say start a care-package company. You, no joke, thought of everything without me saying anything. Listen to this. I got like a million flippin’ ant bites in the field on Wednesday night and you somehow knew to send aloe wipes.

(Hmm . . . Care-package business. Interesting idea.)

Some stuff I can’t have until the end, like medicine or reading material. I thought we could have meds, but nope. I’m pretty sure they are concerned about suicide.

(I sent aspirin, antihistamine, and cough drops. Gosh, I didn’t think about the Army being concerned about the high-suicide-rate with our soldiers.)

We can’t have anything sharp either . . . not even razors or tweezers. Well, the razor thing is partially because shaving our legs is not a necessity. We were supposed to get razor privileges here on Saturday, but this dumbass girl screwed it up. Let me explain . . .

Some things never change

Don’t worry . . . that isn’t Amanda. (Photo credit: AN HONORABLE GERMAN)

If you remember from the website, there are three phases of Basic Combat Training (BCT): Red, White, and Blue. On-line, it seems like it is just a cute way to explain BCT to civilians, but here, it is a huge deal when you change from one phase to the next. It is a reward and signifies our progress, like “oh hey, you are starting to get it, you are working as a team, and you’re disciplined and physically and mentally tough.” It also means we get to make a phone call, the yelling decreases, and the freedoms increase.

We are not even close to being able to phase yet. Why? One girl was dumb enough to ask a new female Drill Instructor if we could have razor privileges, even though our Senior Drill Instructor already said “NO,” and told us how to earn them. That was the last straw for the Drill Instructor, so nope, no phasing for us for a while and no razors for the next seven weeks.  Fantastic. I look like a gorilla.

Our Instructors are both really cool and the hardest Sergeants here. They have higher standards for us than the other Drill Instructors. I know I make it seem like my platoon is all-jacked-up, but relatively speaking, we’re not.

The Senior Drill Instructor inspected our barracks while we were at physical training and, oh man, that did not go well one bit. I stood up and took the blame. I’m “Bay Boss” and making sure the Bay is clean is one of my jobs. I’ve just been overwhelmed and it was my last concern. NOT ANYMORE!

I spent all my free time developing a chore-chart like we are in f**king second grade. I need some gold-star stickers. I thought everyone would be pissed at me, but most people said it was everyone’s fault, and thanked me for taking the blunt of the heat. In fact, we did peer evaluations today and I was in the top five of every list, and mostly ranked #1. You see, my Senior Drill Sergeant didn’t really know who I was before, but after today, with him reading my name out loud 29 times as #1, he knows who I am now!

(That’s our girl!)

We were out in the field Wednesday and Thursday. It was pretty cool. A lot of sitting on dirt in classes though, in the million-degree weather. Of course, no rain today to cool things off. I was excited to sleep outside, but the woods keep the heat and humidity in like crazy. Because it was so hot, I didn’t sleep inside the sleeping bag, hence, the ant bites.

(Amanda’s idea of “cool” and my idea of “cool” are two different things.)

People here are from everywhere, but my friends, the two girls and a few guys, all happen to be from California believe it or not! My friend  Rebecca is from Southern California and yes, she is in my Bay and platoon, thank God!

Thank you so much for your love and support. I miss you!

P.S. Sloppy handwriting . . . it is way past my bedtime! It is 22:15 and I’m exhausted!

(I’m exhausted from just reading her letter!)

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Our Daughter Entered the Army ~ An Update ~ Part 4

09 Thursday Aug 2012

Posted by robincoyle in In Search . . .

≈ 90 Comments

Tags

Daughter Enters Army, Daughter in the Army, writers, writing

Here we go with our fourth installment of letters from our daughter at Army Basic Training in Fort Jackson, South Carolina.

As an intro, I sent Amanda a care package filled with a crazy assortment of goodies . . . a set of Uno playing cards, nail clippers, face wipes, magazines (which we now know were confiscated), and a baggie of green plastic Army men. I thought the Army men would make her laugh.

My care package crossed paths with Amanda’s letter (below). She starts the letter with a list of things she could use. Because of my “Mother’s ESP,” most of the things on her list were already en route to her. Funny . . . green plastic Army men were NOT on her list. How odd.

Letter Three Dated July 19, 2012 ~ Summarized

 Notes in parentheses are mine.

“Hey Rental Units!! (Another term of endearment she uses for us.)

 . . . Seriously, even just some of the things on this list would be great. They took away most of our stuff. We have no razors, conditioner, moisturizer, or face wash. I look like a monkey right now. We also have to wear these huge grannie panties. You don’t want to risk not wearing them because if you go down as a HEAT CAT, they strip you down and wrap you in an ice blanket.

(The temperature in South Carolina then was over 100 degrees and 100% humidity.)

English: Military Birth Control Glasses (also ...

I’m sure she looks adorable in these! Military Birth Control Glasses circa mid 1990s. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Plus I have awful Birth Control Glasses (BCGs). So basically, I’m hideous right now, but we all are.

(I’m ok with that if it keeps the boys away from you.)

My platoon is very slowly getting this teamwork thing. Everyone here comes from all walks of life. Some are from gangs, some are in college, and one guy has two master degrees. And with that, many people have trouble acclimating to each other. One guy still flies a confederate flag and the platoon is probably 1/5th black.

Tomorrow we have the obstacle course called “Fit to Win.” After everyone goes through the course, a six-man team is selected from each platoon to compete against the other platoons. I think I’ll smoke it and be on my platoon’s team.

(I bet you do smoke it honey!)

The food here is getting worse. Basically it is because we eat the same thing everyday. Breakfast is awesome though. Bacon, eggs, hash browns, cereal, and pancakes or something like that every morning. Plus, I eat an apple at every meal. It is so hot here that an apple is like, the best. I eat a ton during mealtime and then I’m hungry again in one hour.

(She continued the letter the next day. Note the change in her voice.)

I got your letter! It was perfect timing . . . I am so exhausted.

I am in charge of my Bay and people complain and bitch to me about every single thing. On top of that I fix people’s feet (think of all the marching and pursuant blisters) and help them with their physical training.

I got in trouble with the Drill Sergeant for setting up Fire Guard (think night watch) a certain way. But the thing is, I set it up so the people who failed the physical fitness test when we first got here didn’t have to pull Fire Guard. I wanted them to be rested for the 4 am fitness test tomorrow, because . . . if you don’t pass, you go home. I gave myself the last Fire Guard shift so I will be waking up at 0245 tomorrow. After a four-mile road march and being selected to be on the platoon’s obstacle course team and competed against the other platoons, I did more than any other female in my Bay. I am bruised from head to toe and sore as hell.

I love being here. I love doing Army stuff. I don’t even mind getting up at 0245 tomorrow. But, I am beat and tired of 90% of girls here. Thank god we are getting more time to hang out with the males.

Anyway, your letter came and made me so freaking happy! I love you and miss you and your sanity.

Gosh we miss you too!

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Our Daughter Entered the Army ~ An Update ~ Part 2

05 Sunday Aug 2012

Posted by robincoyle in In Search . . .

≈ 88 Comments

Tags

Army Boot Camp, Daughter Enters Army, Daughter in the Army, writers, writing

For those of you just joining this series about our daughter Amanda joining the Army, click here.  Your comments and support of her efforts, and my worry, are heartwarming and we thank you.

Amanda shipped off to Army Basic Training on July 2nd. We spoke to her several times before her phone was taken away. We received a form-letter from her on July 12th. The first real letter from her arrived on July 14th. I kid you not; we checked the mailbox hourly in anticipation of word from her.

I forgot to tell you something in the first of this series; Amanda finished reading my manuscript on the trip to Fort Jackson. She called me when she arrived at the base and said, “Mom . . . your book made me cry three times.” This is heady praise coming from a girl who didn’t cry at the end of Old Yeller.

Letter One Dated July 9, 2012 Summarized

The notes in parentheses are mine.

“Day Three is officially over. It is pretty easy in terms of getting yelled at or smoked. We are split up almost 100% of the time by gender. I sleep in a bay (barracks) with 60 girls, who are called females in the Army. I don’t think I have ever spent this much time with females in my life.

(Robin’s first note here . . . let’s not forget she is ONE of our THREE daughters.)

Amanda leading a night land navigation exercise in the rain when she was in ROTC.

The military stuff is easy.

(Amanda did four years of ROTC in college and knows a bit about the drill)

I don’t get yelled at ever. I just keep my head down.

Oh man, right now as I write this letter, two platoons in my bay are arguing about being quiet while trying to go to sleep. People are “shushing” each other thinking it keeps things quiet when it actually makes it louder. Every once and a while a f**k comes out and it gets rowdy. Hilarious.

Food here is awesome. Every night there are several sides, vegetables, and meats, with a full salad bar. We eat really fast but it doesn’t bother me. I eat healthy and just shovel it in. No table manners though!

(Good girl for noticing. We taught her well!)

Holy smokes it is hot here! But tonight we had an awesome thunderstorm. The air is thick in my lungs when I run, but I was the top female in my platoon in the diagnostic Physical Training test.

All in all, it hasn’t been bad. I’m just ready for training to start so they can see my potential and know I can do more than marching and push-ups.

XXX ~ A

P. S.  Madre, they took away your book. 😦  I won’t get to read it again until I am on the plane to come home.”

(My last note here . . . those Drill Sergeants are cruel! Don’t they know fine literature when they see it?)

 

 

Our Daughter Entered the Army ~ An Update

04 Saturday Aug 2012

Posted by robincoyle in In Search . . .

≈ 85 Comments

Tags

Army Boot Camp, Daughter in the Army, writers, writing

I wrote a post in July about dropping our oldest daughter, Amanda, off at the Army recruiting station to then ship off to Army Boot Camp at “Relaxin’ Jackson” ~ Fort Jackson, South Carolina. Your outpouring of support of Amanda’s decision to join the Army, and support of me as her weepy mother, warmed my soul.

I thought you might like an update on what is happening with Amanda. Because I like to write short-ish posts, I’ll give you the updates since her departure in serial form. I’d hate to lose you because I blathered on.

Boot Camp is an experience most of us will not, well . . . experience. Her insider’s view is interesting.

Cover of "Private Benjamin (Full Screen E...

I hope our daughter’s face doesn’t look like this. Cover of Private Benjamin (Full Screen Edition)

We learned from her letters that Boot Camp isn’t far from what you see in the movies. Richard Gere from An Officer and a Gentleman and Goldie Hawn from Private Benjamin looked over Amanda’s shoulder while she wrote her letters.

After we dropped Amanda off, she and a hundred or so other recruits from all over Northern California were put up a local hotel. The next morning, the Army bused them to a Processing Center (makes them sound like salami, right?), where they “hurried up and waited.” She spent the day in a back-spasm-inducing plastic chair and waited her turn at the Processing Center.

Being the considerate and caring mom that I am, I gave Amanda a printed and spiral bound copy of my novel as a going away gift. To give you an idea of the length of her waiting-around-time at the Center, she read half of the manuscript.

The next day, the recruits were up at 0-dark-thirty to catch planes to various Army bases across the U.S.

Do you remember the horrific heat, humidity, thunderstorms, and flash floods the South endured in early July? Record-breaking bad weather greeted Amanda in a hot and sweaty embrace when she walked off the plane.

Her first week at Fort Jackson was what the Army calls “Reception.” Sounds like a lovely royal wedding party, but it was physicals, fitness testing, and more paperwork. Her phone wasn’t taken away . . . yet . . . and she called us several times.

Then, silence.

The next thing we received was a full-page form-letter.

 Dear ___________________:

            I have arrived safely at my Basic Combat Training unit, and I am in good health. My Drill Sergeants has given me some important information I need to pass on to you…………….

You get the idea. Amanda would never say “I am in good health.” But, she filled in the Dear _____________: with “Madre and Padre.” We are not Spanish, but all three girls call us that. Don’t ask. I don’t know why.

(My note here . . . I’m dying to edit the form-letter and send it back to the Army with a link to the Strong vs Weak Word series . . . but I digress.)

The letter goes on to say she isn’t allowed to receive contraband such as alcohol, food, candy, or porn. Now I ask you. What God- and Army-fearing mom sends their kid porn? Octo-Mom? Isn’t she a stripper now?

We knew from materials Amanda received before leaving, a comment on my post made by the wife of a Drill Sergeant, and from a friend of Omawarisan, we wouldn’t hear from Amanda again for weeks.

We didn’t.

Stay tuned. I’ll fill you in on what she wrote in her first letters.

 

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