| The Guard and Me |
| What is a veterinarian doing in the Army National Guard? Why, protecting the country, of course. Guard training for October included a weekend bivouac; the medical clearing company of which I am a member, along with our trucks, jeeps, and supplies, set up a temporary encampment in the field. Dressed in fatigues, combat boots, field jacket plus liner, and pistol belt complete with poncho and first aid kit, I could hardly move. My pockets were bulging with all those little things that must go someplace |
| when a purse is not appropriate. As I slung the bag containing my sleeping bag, Army blanket and mess kit over my shoulder, I knew I was a sight that would send the enemy retreating. After a couple of hours spent loading the convoy, we were on our way. And what a beautiful weekend! From the vantage point of the cab of a 2 1/2-ton camouflaged truck, I saw Wisconsin at her finest. We passed fields of tassled corn, patchwork crops of green and gold, Holstein cows, red barns, and a silo with a red and white striped top. Shouting over the roar of the diesel engine, the young mother of two who was driving, said, "I love this truck!" We agreed that the fumes and bucking seat were preferable to driving the vacuum cleaner back home on a beautiful fall day. At the encampment site, the first order of business was to unload the trucks and set up the tents. Pistol belts, field jackets and finally, shirts lay on the ground beside us as stakes were driven, poles raised, and roped pulled. My chance came with the big mallet, and as I swung that huge, wooden hammer against the stake that was braced by a black combat boot, I felt the tension of a stressful week melt away. By midafternoon, the tents were up--surgery, pre-op, post-op, lab and x-ray, and the wards. Litters, cots, and medical equipment were opened and set up. I could picture Hawkeye and Radar moving among them. Gratefully, we filled our mess tins with a late lunch and retreated to the shade of a tent or truck. The rest of the afternoon was spent in open-air classes on subjects pertienent to the operation of a medical company. My specific mission was to give a lecture on zoonotic diseases (diseases transmitted from animal to man) that might be encountered in southeastern Wisconsin. With the sun setting behind me, I launched into the hazards of wildlife rabies, tularemia (rabbit fever), Lyme's disease, which is spread by ticks, and vival encephalitis spread by infected mosquitoes. Dinner included Salisbury steak and the best homemade brownies I've ever eaten. After dinner, we received a mobilization briefing. Our function is to be ready and mobile if we are needed in a state or national emergency. Our unit was activated during World War II and Korea; we provided medical care to the Cuban refugees at Fort McCoy a few years ago and have served when called by the governor. All was not work and study; social hour was a time to relax and talk with other members of the company. Bedtime meant crawling into a sleeping bag in the pre-op tent wearing most of my clothes. I slept soundly and the five o'clock wake-up call came much too early. After breakfast, the activities of the day before were reversed. Equipment was loaded, tents broken down, packed and loaded. With layers of topsoil under my nails and blisters on my hands, I crawled into the truck for the ride back to the armory. What is this veterinarian doing in the National Guard? Where else can a 37-year-old woman lie in dirt with an M-16 aimed at a target, or drive a 2 1/2-ton truck, or swing a mallet that would make a giant wince? Or maybe it's the interaction with other professionals, the educational opportunities, or the salary and retirement. The Guard is all of those things to me, but most of all, it's the lump in my throat when together, tired and dirty after that long weekend, we salute the flag of the United States of America. This article appeared in the Milwaukee Sentinel on Dec. 1, 1982, over 20 years ago. Today I think about the sacrifices that women in all branches of our armed services have made in times of past wars and are making everyday in Iraq and other hot spots around the world. I am proud of my years spent with the National Guard and Army Reserve, and grateful for those opportunities. But I served during peace time. Would I have gone to war if called? Of course. Still, I'm very concerned about our men and women in the Guard and Reserve military are who are being asked to put their families and lives on hold while they serve tour after tour in dangerous war zones. Regardless of one's view on the War in Iraq, this is unfair treatment of our military families. I don't know the answer, but I suspect that the only fair solution is the reinstatement of the draft, this time for both genders. And, I suspect, also, that our elected officials would rather sacrifice our young military men and women than their political careers that this stand might demand. If we all directly share in the sacrifices that war demands, our votes influencing political decisions have more relevance. |
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| H. Ellen Whiteley, D.V.M., All Rights Reserved |
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