My father swears that my mother stalked him until he said "I do". However, my mother claims the story went the
other way around. Either way on June 19, 1984 my parents were married at a small Baptist chapel in Charenton,
Louisiana exactly 4 years after the day they met. They lived in Franklin for a short time before moving to New
Iberia.
On the afternoon of July 28, 1985 my mother started to have contractions and rushed to Lafayette for delivery. I
was born at Lafayette General Medical Center (LGMC) on July 28, 1985 at 11:50pm weighing 8lbs, 4oz with a full
head of hair. (Of which I had the unfortunate pleasure of seeing proof that I am my mothers’ daughter from old
photographs).
From birth until the age of 17 I lived in the same house of the same small town with the same neighbors. (I still see
them when I go home). My childhood was filled with various adventures that generally lead to something bad. One
vivid memory is the day a few school-friends and I were arrested for trespassing. Wouldn't you know that the
abandoned house we claimed as our hang out was still considered someone's property.
Dad was just starting to work at the Hospital when we went to our "hang out". I asked him if we could go (my friend
was visiting) and he told me to stay home so he could take a nap before he went back to work that afternoon. Of
course, we decided to sneak out and go anyway.
When my friend and I got to the abandoned blue house all of "the guys" were already there. They started to tell us
about how the neighbor was making a fuss about them being there.
"We just told him we were looking for frogs in the pool and he left." declared the mischievous boys, laughing at how
they'd out-smarted the neighbor.
I guess we all figured the neighbor bought it because we went inside and sat around the upstairs bedroom. I was
all jittery because my biggest crush, "Calley" was lying on a mattress right at my feet. How lucky I felt! (Practically
every girl in the school had a crush on him; he was the new guy from California). I was finally gaining some
courage to talk to him too!
It wasn't 15 minutes after we were sitting upstairs that I looked out the window saying "Oh look, it's that guy from
next door." My friend looked out announcing "It's the cops!" and Calley yells "Po Po's!"
Everyone started to run! I didn't know what was going on or what to do; I'd never actually been pursued by the
cops! Some of the guys knew the drill all to well and the cops knew them by name, especially my crushes good
friend "Chochi". (yes, we all called him Chochi). We all started to run down stairs, my friend and another guy were
caught at the back door we came in at. So we ran back up-stairs.
We were like trapped cats, surrounded by dogs. I'd noticed a ledge on the side of the house earlier and I was first
to run to it. Calley, Chochi, another guy and I all stood looking over the edge, none of us wanting to jump. Finally,
I leaped! I was more scared of my dad than the cops. If he found out I didn't listen to him, I was dead! I looked
back up, Chochi was gone, but I gave the other two that look of "Come on.. I'm the girl and I jumped first, jump!"
(Maybe a little of "Oh my god.. I made it, I'm not hurt!") The guys jumped down and I started to sprint for my house
(It was just up the street) and WHAM! A cop appears from behind the bushes with a gun pointed at us! BUSTED!
We were all put in handcuffs and taken to the police station. I cried the entire trip. We passed in front my house
and all I could think was that I wouldn't be able to sit for a very long time when my dad was done with me. While
we sat together in a room trying to “get our story straight”. We all yammered about how scared we were when
everything happened, what we thought when we each got busted. (The guys of course were not scared at all,
guys are never scared). Then came the fun part.
“We’re going to let you kids call your parents to come pick you up so we can explain to them what has to happen
next.” Explained one of the police officers.
God, no. Anything but that. My dad’s still napping, couldn’t they just take me home. I wasn’t a bad kid, just at the
wrong place at the wrong time with the wrong people. One by one everyone got up to call their parents, I cried a
bit more scared of what my dad would do when I woke him up. I figured it was best to let him sleep as long as
possible; maybe he wouldn’t be too mad. Then it was my turn.
“Hello” croaked my dad from the other end of the phone, obviously being woke up. “Dad, I need you to come get
me.” I was already starting to cry again. “What? Where are you?” oh boy… this is going to go over well. “I’m at
the police station, Dad.” I either don’t want to or simply can’t remember what was said at this point. However, the
conversation ended with “I’ll be right there.”
I started to pray! Everyone tried to assure me that it wouldn’t be that bad. Yea right, they didn’t know my dad.
The only person that was scared for me was my friend. I begged her to stay with me until my dad calmed down at
least. I was certain that he would kill me as soon as he got me home.
The drive back to the house was in complete silence, aside from my father asking my friend a few questions. The
fear built more and more, he wasn’t even talking to me. Dad asked if she wanted him to drop her off at her house.
I didn’t budge, but I hoped she didn’t forget that she was supposed to stay with me at our house for a while.
“No, sir. My mom’s not home right now anyway.” She answered. Thank goodness! We got home and went into
the house. I sat at the kitchen table, scared to even go into my room; I didn’t want to risk making him more upset.
He must have realized how scared I was because he sat at the table with his cup of coffee and the three of us
talked. First about the whole incident, then just random topics. A few days later we had to make a court
appearance where majority were charged with breaking and entering on top of burglary. My friend and I were
charged with trespassing because it was our first offense, and my last.
After that horrific day I stayed home. I got into video games, chat rooms and some basic programming stuff. Over
time I ventured into computer games and learned more about computers such as the basics of HTML and JAVA. I’
d see things on sites and want to make them myself. With the help of my dad and copying sites to study their
coding. I made a pretty nice site for a “Guild” I created in a game called “The Realm Online” which I still play today.
In my younger years I swore to some day be an actress “like the people on TV”. However time and trials of life
steered me in other directions. I can recall as a little girl I would make up songs as I sat on a bench alone during
recess. I had a tendency to be alone in school. I was that girl who stared at the floor with my books clinched
across my chest, never looking at anyone.
It was my sophomore year in High School that I decided to take a Creative Writing class. Easy credit and I would
sometimes write things here or there. I’d usually throw it away after I wrote it though. From that class up to today I
keep every piece of work I write and most of which is published on deviantART. The first piece I ever wrote in that
class was a sort of condensed Romeo and Juliet poem titled “Lost Love”. I’m not sure why I wrote it, I just had that
story in my mind while I was writing I suppose. Through the years I’ve written quite a collection of poems, but never
considered full publication. My poetry was and is my release. Without my poems it’s very possible I wouldn’t be
typing this autobiography now.
It was during my tour in Korea that I began to write my book. At the age of 17 I joined the U.S. Army in an attempt
to escape the evil grasp of my terrible parents for not allowing me to drink and do drugs with the other kids!
(sarcasm, in case you didn’t catch that). It was some time near the end of my Junior year that I decided I would join
the Army to "get away from my parents". The hopes of every adolescent still living at home.
My dad asked me if it’s what I really wanted to do. I declared “anything to get out of this house!” What a foolish
child I was. My father signed consent paperwork for me to enlist in the U.S. Army and after a year of the Delayed
Entry Program training I was off to Ft. Jackson, S Carolina for Basic Combat Training (BCT). I turned 18 during my
time in BCT, but managed to keep it quiet until after the Drill Sergeants were done with their “smoking sessions”.
Although the 9 weeks of BCT were tough, nothing compares to my dad! It was a cake walk compared to life under
his roof.
After BCT I went on to Ft. Rucker, Alabama where my parents came up to visit me frequently. My dad got so tired
of driving up from Louisiana that he moved to Dothan, Alabama and worked at the local hospital as a “travel tech”.
After an additional 6 weeks spent in Ft. Rucker I was going to my first duty assignment. I had one week off that I
spent in Louisiana saying all of my hellos and goodbye’s to everyone I knew. It was off to Camp Humphreys, S.
Korea for me.
My first year in Korea was a bit of a blur. I spent a lot of time in the local village drinking, as the drinking age was
somewhere around 16 for the locals and no one hassled the under-agers for drinking, at first. Somewhere around
mid-way through my first year the drinking age for soldiers was moved from 19 to 21. However, I enjoyed my time
in Korea all in all and decided that the Army Incentive Program (AIP) was a good idea. Soldiers were offered
additional income if they volunteered to stay an extra year in Korea. After much thought (and a few more drinks) I
decided I would go along with the AIP.
I met lots of fantastic people and made quite an impression on the chain of command in Korea. The tour in whole
is something I’ll never forget. Especially the November that I was originally scheduled to leave Korea and instead
of leaving anywhere, I was laid up in bed. A couple Non-commissioned Officers (NCOs) and myself were
attempting to get some radio’s that were locked inside a largely fenced area that vehicles are usually kept in
(motor pool). I seemed to get a flash back to the day I jumped off the house and related it to my balancing on
barbed wire in an attempt to get over this particular fence.
I balanced on top a board my NCOs were holding, looked down at the ground, felt I was stable enough and I
jumped. Unfortunately I didn’t calculate the distance I was jumping from and the un-level ground I was jumping to.
I hit the ground, heard the pop and grabbed my left knee. I was in so much pain I couldn’t scream at all. The
higher ranking NCO called to me, asking if I was alright. I yelled back “It’s hurts!” that’s all I could say.
The other NCO leaped over the fence effortlessly to see if I was alright. He coaxed me into sitting up. He was
looking at me like he expected I would die any moment. I tugged at the pant-leg on my uniform, pulling it up to see
if I was seriously injured. No blood, I'm OK. My NCO helped me stand, and then helped me walk until I managed to
take a few steps on my own. He grabbed the radios as two soldiers opened the gate of the motor pool bringing a
vehicle in. (Great timing, guys).
I hobbled my way a good 150 feet back to our motor pool and apparently had the urge to pee. I made my way to
the restroom, handled business, and walked back out into the bay, much like an elderly woman with a bad hip.
Just as I went to step down from the bay level, maybe an inch, I heard it. SNAP! I quickly grabbed hold of the
black and yellow caution pole to my right and winced in pain.
My NCOs were trying to get everything done before we left for lunch; I’d offered to stay behind to help out. I knew
what was left wouldn’t take much longer so I tried to be a tough soldier girl and wait to go to the Troop Medical
Center (TMC). The highest ranking NCO (who we all called Daddy Coe for his father like mentality) saw me lose
my footing and quickly announced that he was taking me to the TMC right away after seeing the level of pain I was
in.
The months following that were grueling and painful. I’d destroyed my left ACL and required surgery to repair it.
Although you are capable of living without your ACL, I opted to have it done as I like the idea of being able to walk
like a normal person. I did manage to take leave for Christmas that year, don’t remember much of what I did for my
vacation. I do remember that my parents came to Korea in March for my surgery.
My mother’s an RN so she knows all of the drugs and what they do. My father is a Radiographer/CT Technician so
he knows all the bones and such like that. The two of them make quite a team for any medical ailments. They
came to Korea just to be sure the doctor knew what he was talking about; they didn’t trust me going into surgery
with a military doctor. Everything went well as far as the surgery goes. However, once you’ve had surgery what
was operated on will never be 100% again, I'm sure those that have been there know that.
During my second year in Korea I began to write my novel after dating a Marine for a short time. I hadn’t had the
greatest luck with relationships, but he seemed to shine a little hope into my life and inspired me. The book began
with that and spiraled to what it is today. I’ve had so many turns and twists from my original story, but I’m pleased
with what I’ve created.
After my second year in Korea was over I flew back home, stopping in Hawaii to visit my parents. They’d both
moved to Hawaii temporarily after they left Korea from my surgery. Hawaii was beautiful and I enjoyed the famous
“Puka Dog” from Kauai Island, where my parents were living. I flew back to Louisiana and drove my “Ruby”, a ’99
Pontiac Grand Am, up to New York.
New York was my new duty assignment. I was sent to Fort Drum, the most rapidly deployed unit in the United
States of America. Home of the 10th Mountain Division. I knew nothing about the place until I had my orders in
hand and I tried so hard to get out of being sent there, but it happened anyway. Three months after arriving to Ft.
Drum, I was deployed to Afghanistan with HHC 3-10 General Support Aviation Battalion (GSAB). I spent my first six
months on Bagram Air Field (BAF), went on my Rest and Relaxation (R&R), and spent my last six months on
Jalalabad Air Field (JAF).
The first six months were a very bad ground hog day and the second six months wasn’t much better, but at least
the occasional mortars made things interesting. They never hit the actual base while I was there, which I’m
fortunate for. I’d slept through some of the mortar attacks (attempts might be a better word for that). However the
ground hog day mentality of my tour in Afghanistan gave way for lots of free time, which I spent, focused on my
novel. I’d share it with co-workers and get their input, make little changes constantly until the story became
something completely unique.
After a very long year in Afghanistan I returned to Fort Drum, New York and on February 8th, 2007 I met a Spanish
man wearing a shirt that said “it’s not a myth, it’s a legend”. He noticed me sitting alone and brought me a drink
(which he got free with the drink he purchased, two for one night). We started to talk a bit and after we left the
club, spent the entire night talking to each other. From that night until today he and I have not left one another’s
side for more than a few hours for work or running errands.
On May 25th, 2007 I started my off time from the Army until my deactivation date of June 26th, 2007. Mario and I
got ourselves an apartment and I moved out of the military barracks. After much deliberation and discussion about
our current situation, me being a civilian and him still being military, we decided to get married ahead of schedule.
We’d already talked about it being in our future and nothing about us was conventional from the start, so why
not?
We both talked to our parents about it and Mario asked my dad for permission to marry me over the phone, just to
make it a little more official. We would have gone through with it anyway and even my dad said he knew that, so
he wouldn’t go about making things more of a hassle. Besides, Mario’s the first guy I’ve been with that my father
actually approved of and daddy always takes his side.
On June 8th, 2007 Mario and I were married at the local Justice of the Peace. We plan to have another wedding
on our anniversary for family and friends to attend. The preparation for that day is sure to be an adventure.
That's a story for another day.
other way around. Either way on June 19, 1984 my parents were married at a small Baptist chapel in Charenton,
Louisiana exactly 4 years after the day they met. They lived in Franklin for a short time before moving to New
Iberia.
On the afternoon of July 28, 1985 my mother started to have contractions and rushed to Lafayette for delivery. I
was born at Lafayette General Medical Center (LGMC) on July 28, 1985 at 11:50pm weighing 8lbs, 4oz with a full
head of hair. (Of which I had the unfortunate pleasure of seeing proof that I am my mothers’ daughter from old
photographs).
From birth until the age of 17 I lived in the same house of the same small town with the same neighbors. (I still see
them when I go home). My childhood was filled with various adventures that generally lead to something bad. One
vivid memory is the day a few school-friends and I were arrested for trespassing. Wouldn't you know that the
abandoned house we claimed as our hang out was still considered someone's property.
Dad was just starting to work at the Hospital when we went to our "hang out". I asked him if we could go (my friend
was visiting) and he told me to stay home so he could take a nap before he went back to work that afternoon. Of
course, we decided to sneak out and go anyway.
When my friend and I got to the abandoned blue house all of "the guys" were already there. They started to tell us
about how the neighbor was making a fuss about them being there.
"We just told him we were looking for frogs in the pool and he left." declared the mischievous boys, laughing at how
they'd out-smarted the neighbor.
I guess we all figured the neighbor bought it because we went inside and sat around the upstairs bedroom. I was
all jittery because my biggest crush, "Calley" was lying on a mattress right at my feet. How lucky I felt! (Practically
every girl in the school had a crush on him; he was the new guy from California). I was finally gaining some
courage to talk to him too!
It wasn't 15 minutes after we were sitting upstairs that I looked out the window saying "Oh look, it's that guy from
next door." My friend looked out announcing "It's the cops!" and Calley yells "Po Po's!"
Everyone started to run! I didn't know what was going on or what to do; I'd never actually been pursued by the
cops! Some of the guys knew the drill all to well and the cops knew them by name, especially my crushes good
friend "Chochi". (yes, we all called him Chochi). We all started to run down stairs, my friend and another guy were
caught at the back door we came in at. So we ran back up-stairs.
We were like trapped cats, surrounded by dogs. I'd noticed a ledge on the side of the house earlier and I was first
to run to it. Calley, Chochi, another guy and I all stood looking over the edge, none of us wanting to jump. Finally,
I leaped! I was more scared of my dad than the cops. If he found out I didn't listen to him, I was dead! I looked
back up, Chochi was gone, but I gave the other two that look of "Come on.. I'm the girl and I jumped first, jump!"
(Maybe a little of "Oh my god.. I made it, I'm not hurt!") The guys jumped down and I started to sprint for my house
(It was just up the street) and WHAM! A cop appears from behind the bushes with a gun pointed at us! BUSTED!
We were all put in handcuffs and taken to the police station. I cried the entire trip. We passed in front my house
and all I could think was that I wouldn't be able to sit for a very long time when my dad was done with me. While
we sat together in a room trying to “get our story straight”. We all yammered about how scared we were when
everything happened, what we thought when we each got busted. (The guys of course were not scared at all,
guys are never scared). Then came the fun part.
“We’re going to let you kids call your parents to come pick you up so we can explain to them what has to happen
next.” Explained one of the police officers.
God, no. Anything but that. My dad’s still napping, couldn’t they just take me home. I wasn’t a bad kid, just at the
wrong place at the wrong time with the wrong people. One by one everyone got up to call their parents, I cried a
bit more scared of what my dad would do when I woke him up. I figured it was best to let him sleep as long as
possible; maybe he wouldn’t be too mad. Then it was my turn.
“Hello” croaked my dad from the other end of the phone, obviously being woke up. “Dad, I need you to come get
me.” I was already starting to cry again. “What? Where are you?” oh boy… this is going to go over well. “I’m at
the police station, Dad.” I either don’t want to or simply can’t remember what was said at this point. However, the
conversation ended with “I’ll be right there.”
I started to pray! Everyone tried to assure me that it wouldn’t be that bad. Yea right, they didn’t know my dad.
The only person that was scared for me was my friend. I begged her to stay with me until my dad calmed down at
least. I was certain that he would kill me as soon as he got me home.
The drive back to the house was in complete silence, aside from my father asking my friend a few questions. The
fear built more and more, he wasn’t even talking to me. Dad asked if she wanted him to drop her off at her house.
I didn’t budge, but I hoped she didn’t forget that she was supposed to stay with me at our house for a while.
“No, sir. My mom’s not home right now anyway.” She answered. Thank goodness! We got home and went into
the house. I sat at the kitchen table, scared to even go into my room; I didn’t want to risk making him more upset.
He must have realized how scared I was because he sat at the table with his cup of coffee and the three of us
talked. First about the whole incident, then just random topics. A few days later we had to make a court
appearance where majority were charged with breaking and entering on top of burglary. My friend and I were
charged with trespassing because it was our first offense, and my last.
After that horrific day I stayed home. I got into video games, chat rooms and some basic programming stuff. Over
time I ventured into computer games and learned more about computers such as the basics of HTML and JAVA. I’
d see things on sites and want to make them myself. With the help of my dad and copying sites to study their
coding. I made a pretty nice site for a “Guild” I created in a game called “The Realm Online” which I still play today.
In my younger years I swore to some day be an actress “like the people on TV”. However time and trials of life
steered me in other directions. I can recall as a little girl I would make up songs as I sat on a bench alone during
recess. I had a tendency to be alone in school. I was that girl who stared at the floor with my books clinched
across my chest, never looking at anyone.
It was my sophomore year in High School that I decided to take a Creative Writing class. Easy credit and I would
sometimes write things here or there. I’d usually throw it away after I wrote it though. From that class up to today I
keep every piece of work I write and most of which is published on deviantART. The first piece I ever wrote in that
class was a sort of condensed Romeo and Juliet poem titled “Lost Love”. I’m not sure why I wrote it, I just had that
story in my mind while I was writing I suppose. Through the years I’ve written quite a collection of poems, but never
considered full publication. My poetry was and is my release. Without my poems it’s very possible I wouldn’t be
typing this autobiography now.
It was during my tour in Korea that I began to write my book. At the age of 17 I joined the U.S. Army in an attempt
to escape the evil grasp of my terrible parents for not allowing me to drink and do drugs with the other kids!
(sarcasm, in case you didn’t catch that). It was some time near the end of my Junior year that I decided I would join
the Army to "get away from my parents". The hopes of every adolescent still living at home.
My dad asked me if it’s what I really wanted to do. I declared “anything to get out of this house!” What a foolish
child I was. My father signed consent paperwork for me to enlist in the U.S. Army and after a year of the Delayed
Entry Program training I was off to Ft. Jackson, S Carolina for Basic Combat Training (BCT). I turned 18 during my
time in BCT, but managed to keep it quiet until after the Drill Sergeants were done with their “smoking sessions”.
Although the 9 weeks of BCT were tough, nothing compares to my dad! It was a cake walk compared to life under
his roof.
After BCT I went on to Ft. Rucker, Alabama where my parents came up to visit me frequently. My dad got so tired
of driving up from Louisiana that he moved to Dothan, Alabama and worked at the local hospital as a “travel tech”.
After an additional 6 weeks spent in Ft. Rucker I was going to my first duty assignment. I had one week off that I
spent in Louisiana saying all of my hellos and goodbye’s to everyone I knew. It was off to Camp Humphreys, S.
Korea for me.
My first year in Korea was a bit of a blur. I spent a lot of time in the local village drinking, as the drinking age was
somewhere around 16 for the locals and no one hassled the under-agers for drinking, at first. Somewhere around
mid-way through my first year the drinking age for soldiers was moved from 19 to 21. However, I enjoyed my time
in Korea all in all and decided that the Army Incentive Program (AIP) was a good idea. Soldiers were offered
additional income if they volunteered to stay an extra year in Korea. After much thought (and a few more drinks) I
decided I would go along with the AIP.
I met lots of fantastic people and made quite an impression on the chain of command in Korea. The tour in whole
is something I’ll never forget. Especially the November that I was originally scheduled to leave Korea and instead
of leaving anywhere, I was laid up in bed. A couple Non-commissioned Officers (NCOs) and myself were
attempting to get some radio’s that were locked inside a largely fenced area that vehicles are usually kept in
(motor pool). I seemed to get a flash back to the day I jumped off the house and related it to my balancing on
barbed wire in an attempt to get over this particular fence.
I balanced on top a board my NCOs were holding, looked down at the ground, felt I was stable enough and I
jumped. Unfortunately I didn’t calculate the distance I was jumping from and the un-level ground I was jumping to.
I hit the ground, heard the pop and grabbed my left knee. I was in so much pain I couldn’t scream at all. The
higher ranking NCO called to me, asking if I was alright. I yelled back “It’s hurts!” that’s all I could say.
The other NCO leaped over the fence effortlessly to see if I was alright. He coaxed me into sitting up. He was
looking at me like he expected I would die any moment. I tugged at the pant-leg on my uniform, pulling it up to see
if I was seriously injured. No blood, I'm OK. My NCO helped me stand, and then helped me walk until I managed to
take a few steps on my own. He grabbed the radios as two soldiers opened the gate of the motor pool bringing a
vehicle in. (Great timing, guys).
I hobbled my way a good 150 feet back to our motor pool and apparently had the urge to pee. I made my way to
the restroom, handled business, and walked back out into the bay, much like an elderly woman with a bad hip.
Just as I went to step down from the bay level, maybe an inch, I heard it. SNAP! I quickly grabbed hold of the
black and yellow caution pole to my right and winced in pain.
My NCOs were trying to get everything done before we left for lunch; I’d offered to stay behind to help out. I knew
what was left wouldn’t take much longer so I tried to be a tough soldier girl and wait to go to the Troop Medical
Center (TMC). The highest ranking NCO (who we all called Daddy Coe for his father like mentality) saw me lose
my footing and quickly announced that he was taking me to the TMC right away after seeing the level of pain I was
in.
The months following that were grueling and painful. I’d destroyed my left ACL and required surgery to repair it.
Although you are capable of living without your ACL, I opted to have it done as I like the idea of being able to walk
like a normal person. I did manage to take leave for Christmas that year, don’t remember much of what I did for my
vacation. I do remember that my parents came to Korea in March for my surgery.
My mother’s an RN so she knows all of the drugs and what they do. My father is a Radiographer/CT Technician so
he knows all the bones and such like that. The two of them make quite a team for any medical ailments. They
came to Korea just to be sure the doctor knew what he was talking about; they didn’t trust me going into surgery
with a military doctor. Everything went well as far as the surgery goes. However, once you’ve had surgery what
was operated on will never be 100% again, I'm sure those that have been there know that.
During my second year in Korea I began to write my novel after dating a Marine for a short time. I hadn’t had the
greatest luck with relationships, but he seemed to shine a little hope into my life and inspired me. The book began
with that and spiraled to what it is today. I’ve had so many turns and twists from my original story, but I’m pleased
with what I’ve created.
After my second year in Korea was over I flew back home, stopping in Hawaii to visit my parents. They’d both
moved to Hawaii temporarily after they left Korea from my surgery. Hawaii was beautiful and I enjoyed the famous
“Puka Dog” from Kauai Island, where my parents were living. I flew back to Louisiana and drove my “Ruby”, a ’99
Pontiac Grand Am, up to New York.
New York was my new duty assignment. I was sent to Fort Drum, the most rapidly deployed unit in the United
States of America. Home of the 10th Mountain Division. I knew nothing about the place until I had my orders in
hand and I tried so hard to get out of being sent there, but it happened anyway. Three months after arriving to Ft.
Drum, I was deployed to Afghanistan with HHC 3-10 General Support Aviation Battalion (GSAB). I spent my first six
months on Bagram Air Field (BAF), went on my Rest and Relaxation (R&R), and spent my last six months on
Jalalabad Air Field (JAF).
The first six months were a very bad ground hog day and the second six months wasn’t much better, but at least
the occasional mortars made things interesting. They never hit the actual base while I was there, which I’m
fortunate for. I’d slept through some of the mortar attacks (attempts might be a better word for that). However the
ground hog day mentality of my tour in Afghanistan gave way for lots of free time, which I spent, focused on my
novel. I’d share it with co-workers and get their input, make little changes constantly until the story became
something completely unique.
After a very long year in Afghanistan I returned to Fort Drum, New York and on February 8th, 2007 I met a Spanish
man wearing a shirt that said “it’s not a myth, it’s a legend”. He noticed me sitting alone and brought me a drink
(which he got free with the drink he purchased, two for one night). We started to talk a bit and after we left the
club, spent the entire night talking to each other. From that night until today he and I have not left one another’s
side for more than a few hours for work or running errands.
On May 25th, 2007 I started my off time from the Army until my deactivation date of June 26th, 2007. Mario and I
got ourselves an apartment and I moved out of the military barracks. After much deliberation and discussion about
our current situation, me being a civilian and him still being military, we decided to get married ahead of schedule.
We’d already talked about it being in our future and nothing about us was conventional from the start, so why
not?
We both talked to our parents about it and Mario asked my dad for permission to marry me over the phone, just to
make it a little more official. We would have gone through with it anyway and even my dad said he knew that, so
he wouldn’t go about making things more of a hassle. Besides, Mario’s the first guy I’ve been with that my father
actually approved of and daddy always takes his side.
On June 8th, 2007 Mario and I were married at the local Justice of the Peace. We plan to have another wedding
on our anniversary for family and friends to attend. The preparation for that day is sure to be an adventure.
That's a story for another day.
| Autobiography of Salley Ashley (Written Oct 23 2007) |
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Last Page Update: 05 FEB 2008
