Tag Archives: Daughters in the Army

Our Daughter Entered the Army ~ An Update ~ Part 13

04 Tuesday Sep 2012

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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 Thanks to “Don’t ask, don’t tell” being repealed, everyone gets their own shower stall and bathroom stall.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

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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

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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

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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

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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

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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

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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

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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

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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

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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 Enters the Army ~ An Update ~ Part 5

10 Friday Aug 2012

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I bring you letter number four from Amanda.

But first, thank you all for your wonderful comments on her letters. I can’t wait for her to read them when she is granted computer privileges.

Letter Four Dated July 24, 2012 ~ Summarized

Notes in parentheses are mine.

Hey Fajah! Hey Madre! (Fajah is Dutch for father, and NO, we are not Dutch. I also think there is an Austin Powers connection.)

My last letter probably made you a little concerned because I complained so much about the people here. I think I complained because:

  1. Yes, many of the females here are awful. 60 girls in one room is about 57 too many. But I do have some close friends now and that helps make everything else tolerable. Plus, we are spending more time with males and they are cool.
  2. I was exhausted.
  3. The last two weeks have been mostly classroom work and getting yelled at. Not at me directly, but at my platoon.

Our tough-as-nails daughter cleans up nicely, don’t you think?

We are learning the basics like DO NOT MOVE in the position of attention. We used to do that in karate and the instructors would try to make us laugh. Here, if you move you are called a “dumbass” and have to do a million push-ups.

(Amanda has her black belt in karate.  Again, not bragging, just stating the facts.)

They are teaching us to work as a team, not as an individual. A lot of people have trouble with that and only look out for themselves. Me on the other hand, the thing I’ve gotten in trouble for, is thinking critically. I anticipate what will be needed next and while most of the time I’m right, I shouldn’t be doing anything until I’m told.

Things are getting better because we are starting the real Army stuff, (Remember, Amanda did 4 years of ROTC.) and there’s less stuff for them to screamed about. (Yes, Mom, the screaming is just like the movies. They call us names I’ve never heard of. It’s kinda cool. My Drill Instructor is super funny and most of the time he’s actually making fun of you.)

(Not my idea of “kinda cool.”)

I told you about the obstacle course competition against the other platoons. I was selected to be on the team that represented my platoon. We didn’t win though. One of the girls got “tired” and slowed way down. Doing the course the second time was 4-times as hard. First, you’re smoked from doing it the first time . . . and it is a f**king competition so it is all out.

 (Amanda gets her competitive spirit from her dad, NOT me.)

Sundays are our days off, kind of. The morning is for church if you go. Since I don’t, I get personal time. I got paper out to write to my sisters but wrote two sentences before passing out. After lunch is “Area Beautification” so we clean and scrub. Definitely not like the movies. We sweep and mop of course, but not on our hands and knees.

Yesterday was, in my opinion, the best day here.

 (Wait til you read her definition of the “best day!”)

We had a 0445 wake-up call and did intervals on the track. Then we put on our rucksacks and marched three-miles to the “gas chamber.”

 (The gas chamber is where soldiers are taught to correctly wear and use preventive biological equipment. Then they are exposed to a controlled concentration of gas – thereby building confidence in dealing with and identifying a biological agent. Doesn’t THAT sound like fun?)

I’ve done it before so it is no big deal. It just burns like a son of a bitch. Then we marched to “day land navigation,” ate dinner, and then did “night land navigation.” (They use a map and compass to navigate to get to “points” in the field.) My team came in first! We marched back to Bay and got to bed at 0145. We slept in this morning though!  The wake—up call was at 0645!

(Not my idea of sleeping in.)

We go on our first Field Training Exercise soon! I don’t really know what to expect. It is only one night in the field. Everyone is calling it camping. It’s not camping, well it is, but is the Army. The Drill Instructors hate hearing it called camping. Lots of walking I expect.

We eat three meals a day. No more, no less. I find myself starving at each meal and I eat a ton, but am starving again when we hit the rack.

Glad to hear things are good at home. Also, sorry about the swear words. We can’t curse in front of the Drill Instructors and I’ve been frustrated.

(Swear away Amanda! I don’t blame you.) 

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Our Daughter Entered the Army ~ An Update ~ Part 3

06 Monday Aug 2012

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Here is Installment Three bringing you up to speed with what our daughter is doing at Army Basic Training in Fort Jackson, South Carolina. If you missed Parts 1 and 2, scroll down to the links below.

Letter Two Dated July 14, 2012 ~ Summarized

 Notes in parentheses are mine.

“One week down! It’s been kinda a roller coaster since we got here. Not that bad physically at all, until recently. The purpose of the beginning phase in Basic is to learn how to work as a unit. Many people DO NOT understand that concept.

Last night before dinner chow, one of the females mouthed off big time. So after a heavy helping of broccoli, cheese, and rice casserole, we went to our bay (barracks) for some quality time with our Drill Sergeant and M-16 rifles for physical training . . . just squatting with it above our head, then holding it in one hand straight out. I’m getting in shape tho!

(That sounds miserable!  I’m sure my broccoli casserole is much better than the Army’s. Sorry honey, I couldn’t resist the bad joke.)

Yesterday we went to what to what is called “Victory Tower.” It includes a 50-foot rappel tower and several rope confidence courses. That was when the cadre found out I went to Mountain Warfare School. I got the course done pretty quickly and then just had to wait.

(When Amanda was in ROTC, she was selected to attend Army Mountain Warfare School and Winter Mountain Warfare School in Vermont. She is the only female in the history of UCLA’s ROTC program to be selected to attend both sessions. I’m not bragging here . . . just stating the facts. Well, I guess I am bragging a tad.)

Last night after Victory Tower and before chow, the females in my bay unanimously voted me as “Bay Boss.” I honestly didn’t think many people liked me, but I guess I’ve helped out everyone in some shape or form.

(Amanda is like that.)

Getting started as “Bay Boss” was stressful. I was up most of the night getting everything prepared for the morning.

The weather is insane here. Seriously hot and crazy thunderstorms. The other day it dumped rain on us and we had to sit in the classroom soaked and freezing.  We learned to not complain about the heat anymore.

I miss you guys. I also miss my cell phone. 🙂  It’s been liberating having a break from all technology though. Only nine weeks left!”

(We miss you too Amanda!)

I need to set the record straight. I know what you all are thinking . . . “The Army took Robin’s novel away from Amanda because it contains pornographic material.” Geez people! What kind of novelist do you think I am!?

The cadre takes away ALL reading material. In the first care package I sent her, I threw in People Magazine and the book about the surfer-girl whose arm was bit off my a shark. She wrote to me they took those away too because the soldiers have to EARN the privilege of reading material. Wow. They are tough.

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