Surviving the Military: A Memoir

By Norma D. Davis

Norma D. Davis has struggled with finally telling the truth about how betrayal almost caused her to give up on sisterhood and brotherhood all together when a female soldier helped a male soldier rape her because her sexual moral compass remained the same despite the pressure.

Davis only spoke with mental health officials about the traumatic experience and betrayal in 2008 for the first time. Davis came forward and decided that young adults, veterans, males, and females that are heading out into the world need to always be aware of the evil that lurks around them. Davis wants all of them that have been traumatized to know that they are not alone, nor to be afraid about speaking out, anymore.

Davis wants all men and women that have been traumatized to also know she doesn't feel ashamed or embarrassed, but the violator should.

You can only prosper if you take risks, but beware in your travels.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Fulton Books, Inc.
• Release date: Apr 20, 2022
• ISBN: 9781638602057

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Surviving the Military

A Memoir

Norma D. Davis

Copyright © 2022 Norma D. Davis

All rights reserved

First Edition

Fulton Books

Meadville, PA

Published by Fulton Books 2022

ISBN 978-1-63860-204-0 (paperback)

ISBN 978-1-63860-205-7 (digital)

Printed in the United States of America

Table of Contents

Dedication

Chapter 1

Basic Training

Fort Jackson, South Carolina

Chapter 2

Academic Individual Training

Fort Benjamin Harrison, Indiana

Chapter 3

Idar-Oberstein and Wildflecken, Germany

Chapter 4

Final Orders

Fort Dix, New Jersey

Surviving the Military

Synopsis

Dedication

To April, Amari, Lloyd II, and Lloyd III—my life support system.

All I ever wanted was someone I could count on during each chapter of my life.

To Kene Holliday, thank you for being a great mentor.

To all the women that just wanted to serve and protect their countries—Army, Navy, Air Force, Coast Guard, and Marines.

Chapter 1

Basic Training

Fort Jackson, South Carolina

One day, after my nineteenth birthday, was my first day of independence away from my polio-surviving, disabled mother. I had enlisted in the US Army, and I was ready to go. I can honestly say that I don't remember a birthday card, cake, or present the previous day, but I do remember walking out of my mother's apartment and feeling my mother's eyes burning on my back as the army recruiter and I walked down the sidewalk.

My heart was fluttering as I passed the teens playing skelly and some little girls jumping double Dutch, and farther away, I could see my friend Wanda Mercado racing the boys and dusting them one at a time like we often did. Kevin and Tony were in their usual spot on the long blue bench playing chess. No one seemed to notice I was leaving on this unusually pleasant day in February and I didn't say goodbye to anyone because I don't like saying it to people, I care about. Not to mention, I was going off to war and I might not return. I was determined to branch out on my own, to expand my associations beyond. My friends Leslie Simmons (Air Force), Darrell Graham (Marine), Emelyn, Stuart (Army), Tammie Graves (Army), Junie Martin (Army), Robert Peco (Marine), Shaun Gaynor (Navy), Qunice Cook (Army), Keith Fields (Army), Collin Carr (Army), Alphonso Swilley (Army), Leonard James (Army), Tyrone Swilley (Army), and several other childhood friends enlisted without hesitation. I enlisted after not getting into The Julliard School of Music, and my Erasmus Hall Academy of the arts high school guidance counselor telling me I wasn't college material. After not hearing from Kenyon, I enrolled at the Heffiey & Browne secretarial business school for a year, obtained some shorthand, typing, and clerical skills, giving me something in the military of value to do.

After arriving at Fort Hamilton, I was escorted into a large area with four rows—twenty women and men on each row. A commissioned officer entered and began to speak to us about the oath of enlistment. The officer began to read the oath of enlistment to the eighty men and women and we repeated.

I, Norma Denise Davis, do solemnly swear or affirm that I will support and defend the constitution of the United States against all enemies foreign and domestic—

Before we could finish, a young, white, skinny man fainted, but little did he know that once we recited the oath twice, we were officially inducted into the US Army unless he had a medical condition that the doctors didn't catch.

The next stop was the processing center that was extremely bright and loud with sergeants screaming and yelling orders. Each soldier received their money-green duffel bag with your name and serial number, dog tags, camouflage uniforms, battle dress uniforms (BDU), black jump boots, green prickly wool socks, green T-shirts, green water bottle, and camouflage outer jacket. We were then shuffled off to another long line, one side for the men, and the other side for the women. The men were getting their hair shaved down to peach fuzz while the women laughed and giggled as some men began to cry. The women were getting inoculated and also crying.

I watched as the nurse stood on one side with a large needle shaped like a gun and pulled the trigger of different vaccines into a female soldier's arm.

That shit hurt.

The nurse simply walked over to the next gun sitting on a medical tray. You ready for the next one?

Hell no!

Everybody burst into laughter.

I wasn't laughing because I was next. As the nurse was picking up the first gun, and another nurse walked over to help, I had to ask.

Can I get both at the same time?

The nurses looked at one another and said, Sure, why not?

Both women walked on each side of me and placed both guns up to my arms.

Are you ready? Three, two, one. The nurses shot both guns together.

Noooo! I picked up my duffel bag that felt like a bag of bricks at this point, and on the other end of another line where they handed me my metal helmet to contend with. My arms were in so much pain, that would last for days. I wanted to cry but couldn't.

We all ended up in a large waiting area with no chairs, just a bare floor. My excitement was running high on the inside, and on the outside, I was Cypress Hills Projects, Brooklyn, all the way, cool, calm, and collected, and not letting them see me in sweat mode. The women ranged in ages eighteen to thirty-five years of age. I felt like I was in a Baskin-Robbins of all thirty-one flavors. The women were all shades of rainbow beauty.

By this time, the rain was pouring, and it was cold and dark with rumbling lightning and thunder. Some soldiers went off into groups, some found comers to go hide in, and many took their gear that was given and found a way to get comfortable and go to sleep for just a minute. Between the pain in our arms, no sleep, and nothing to eat, we needed just a minute to relax. Me pacing the floor was a stress reliever as we waited, waited, and waited some more. The term Hurry up and wait is so true.

A young lady with a complexion like mine and blue eyes approached me and sat down. I had seen a blue-eyed dark skin beauty before from 385 Fountain nicknamed blue so I wasn't shocked.

Hi.

Hi, how are you doing?

You would think they never saw a sister with blue eyes before.

They're starring at you?"

Rude.

I'm sorry. I'm Vanessa from Jersey City, they call me Blue.

Norma from Brooklyn, call me Cookie.

Cookie check this out. My brother joined last year and he prepared me for a lot of what's going on, but I saw something unusual."

What?

I saw drill sergeants walking by and they went into a room and I could see a glass window and I could see all the women…us…through it.

Get outta here.

For Real?

But why is that unusual?

Because we're not supposed to be meeting the drill sergeants until we get to basic training.

So what does that mean Vanessa?

I'm not sure.

"You mean they're watching us all right now?

Yes.

Well if you find out why the change, please let me know.

Will do.

It's official, They are picking us out like a team and each of us will go to the drill sergeant that wants us. I just hope my team isn't sorry. As the news spread, several women began licking their lips, and blowing their breath on the mirrors, and drawing smiley faces.

After all of those vaccines, they needed to evaluate us for side effects, so after almost three hours, the noncommissioned officers (NCOs) came into the waiting area and, once again, began to shout.

On your feet! Some soldiers were still groggy and slowly began to rise to their feet.

Let's go, let's go! We grabbed our duffel bags, helmets, and got into formation.

Move, move, move! One soldier was being defiant.

I am moving shoot, while grabbing her gear.

We were never told what? Who? Where?

In my nineteen-year-old mind, I thought that after the Military Entrance Processing Stations (MEPS) probing, they would give us a heads-up. At first, they were so nice with all the details. I was informed that I would be spending two days showing that I was physically fit to join and be given an aptitude test to find my skill set. After the induction, and you had signed papers that you could never sue Uncle Sam, your life was null and void as your own. In other words, they won't tell you anything after you have signed your life away.

As the sergeants came into the waiting area, they carried one sheet of paper, and they had ten young male privates rolling in carts carrying large manila envelopes with our name, rank, serial numbers, company, and drill sergeants' names on them in bold black markers. They contained our aptitude test, pictures, personal information, and information where we would be stationed to give to our families. We had documents for filling out allotment checks, life insurance and beneficiary's information requests.

Take your envelopes, your property, and your sorry bodies over to the appropriate sign that says ‘Alpha,' ‘Bravo,' ‘Charlie,' or ‘Delta.' And stand behind the sign. My envelope had Bravo Co., so I figured that's where I was going and ran over to the line and stood.

Move it, move it!' Why are you walking, soldier?

One soldier said, Yes, sir, yes, sir.

I'm not a damn sir. I work for a living. You call me sergeant!

She hollers, Yes, Sergeant! While running over to the Charlie sign.

I was going to bravo company, and SSG Porcia and SGT Dixon would be my drill sergeants. Both were tall African American, handsome men, both from Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. SSG Porcia stood six feet six and two hundred pounds solid. SGT Dixon was similar in build, but a few years younger than Porcia. SGT Dixon's orders once again began to echo once we were all in line.

If I do not call your name, you answer with, ‘Yes, Sergeant.'

Atkins, Asher, Braun, Davis, Braun answered like she had missed her turn.

Yes, Sergeant.

SGT Dixon continued to read from the list, and SSG Porcia pulled her aside to make an example out of her for not listening to what was said.

Though it seemed chaotic at the time, it was very well-organized.

The 250 soldiers were loaded on several five dark-green buses. Once again, we didn't know where to.

Let's move it!

The bus ride to the barracks was long, dark, and cold. We all tried desperately to look out the windows to see signs, but we couldn't make out anything on the roads. It was as though no one was around, and we were on another planet.

We awoke to the brakes squealing on the bus, and a slight jerk. We all looked around and saw a bright light and a beige brick building. The bus door flew open and SGT Dixon began his screaming routine.

On your feet. We stood and began exiting out the bus.

Grab your things from under the bus and head up those stairs. As he pointed, we began to walk slowly toward the building, up a flight of stairs to our sleeping quarters with our duffel bags over our sore shoulders, we entered the space that was filled with twin beds, lined up with wardrobe closets for us each of us; with our sheets, green wool blankets, and pillow were on the mattress. We saw our beds first and we all laid down for just a moment when SGT Dixon came in.

Put everything down, come downstairs, it's time for chow.

We grabbed our military-issued jackets and ran down the stairs.

Yes, Sergeant!

We all chimed in, Yes, Sergeant!

We arrived at the mess hall, and all we