Gold Star Families: The Knock on the Door When a Military Member Dies…
Heart of a Military Woman| No Comments »in the photo-video story of military families receiving the KNOCK when a loved one has died while in service to our United States Military. It shares the importance of Gold Star family connections in the wake of THE KNOCK, as well as education for those outside the circle of Gold Star family grief.
Heart Of A Hawk: One Family’s Sacrifice and Journey Toward Healing
Also included is the lovely poem, "Please Don’t Knock."
Whether you are a military family, know of one, know of a person serving in the US military service (any branch), you will be touched by this message.
An excerpt from Heart of a Hawk:
There was only one reason for two men in Army dress greens to be standing at the door in the still dark morning. They were bringing a horrid message not worthy of sunlight. But this couldn’t be possible. Just yesterday Dave had called Allstate to reinstate Patrick’s car insurance. He had mailed a check to Fort Polk to the captain’s wife to help buy soap and shaving cream to put in the barracks for the guys when they arrived home next month. But at that moment, Deborah knew death had truly appeared at their door like a thief in the night. It was 6:00 a.m., February 12th, 2004.
During the notification officer’s announcement, "Sir, I’m sorry to inform you…," Deborah’s mind replayed a flood of memories. She and Dave had just discussed the trip to Fort Polk to meet the unit when they arrived in another fifty days or so. They had planned the trip to Disney World. The Christmas tree was still in front of the dining room windows with Patrick’s gifts beneath it. Now, was someone actually telling them the sun would no longer rise? That overnight, the earth had stopped spinning on its axis? That gravity no longer existed? Deborah fell to her knees on the floor, her hands cupped to her face, catching the flood of tears. Dave stood in silence, his arms crossed in front of his chest as though the posture would repel the horrible truth.
What did you do in World War II?
Heart of a Military Woman| No Comments »Veterans Day 2010
Sat down with my father this afternoon, having cake at the dining room table, and asked a simple question: "Dad, what did you do in WWII?"
WOW! So glad I grabbed my iPhone and hit RECORD… for the next hour he told me! I had NO IDEA he was in 19 helicopter crashes while doing his job in the Army Corps of Engineers, and as a recalled Reservist. What an amazing man. At a perky 83, the stories flowed from him as if they happened yesterday! The detail. The places. The pride.
We need to HAVE those conversations! Thank YOU to ALL who serve(d).
-Sheryl Roush, Author of Heart of a Military Woman
Military Story: “Dead Air” by Shirley Sisko Harkins
Heart of a Military Woman, Stories| No Comments »
by Shirley Sisko Harkins
When I enlisted in 1976, the Women’s Army Corp (WAC) was in the process of being disestablished as a separate branch of the Army. I’m very proud to have been one of the last WAC’s, serving during this exciting era in military history. Women were being admitted to West Point. Maternity leaves replaced compulsory discharges, and the umbrella, a traditional military taboo was approved for issue in the name of promoting a positive feminine image. The powers that be even retained a designer to fashion a sporty new mint green, wash and wear uniform. The times they were a changin’.
There were those, of course, who weren’t enthusiastic about the trend. I encountered several male soldiers who appeared to be threatened by the growing presence of women in the motor pool, the mess hall, and even in co-ed barracks. Some men attempted to deflate our influence with casual flirtation. Others insisted we carry our weight—equal pay for equal work, by golly. None, however, stood out so predominantly in my memories as a certain surly NCO at Fort Gordon, Georgia.
Even though I’d have to change it here to protect the innocent, I wish I recalled his name. He was a gristly, Old Army type—a field instructor attached to the signal school where I was trained. I was offered only three occupational options; food service, clerkship, or communications. I’d opted be a radio teletype operator—a dinosaur Military Occupational Specialty (MOS), like the WACS that no longer exists. Quaint historical reference makes for great story telling. Ask any veteran, young or old. When two or more gather together, the war stories commence in earnest.
The Old Army NCO taught in the field, training the students to apply classroom academics to the actual equipment we’d use to perform our duties. We knew the basics of setting up and maintaining a radio network, but hadn’t learned a great deal about trouble-shooting. His job was to station himself with one network station each day and teach us how to deal with real life obstacles as they cropped up.
His approach was stoic—stand back and let us flounder, making one frantic mistake after another, until the entire network crashed. Afterwards, he’d explain what went wrong and help us to figure out how we could have responded more effectively. In theory, his methods seemed valid enough, but his criticism was often sarcastic and condescending. Locking us in a poker face look, he’d observe every move without offering the slightest hint as to whether we were right or wrong. We never knew what was coming; reward or reprimand. It was excruciating.
One morning, I was manning the network controlling station. By the time he stuck his head through the door of the rig where I was working, I’d already lost communication with one of my network stations. The others were apparently beginning to panic, thumbing through their ciphering and frequency manuals to determine if their settings were correct. Lack of confidence in their own training may have caused them to fiddle with the dials.
The gristly NCO watched while I performed a network check, hailing the other two stations and getting dead air in response. I feverishly typed in the abbreviated commands again and got nothing. Staring at the teletype for a few seconds, I prayed for inspiration. He was expecting me to do something, so I hopped out of the rig and headed toward a nearby jeep.
I slipped on the Morse code key leg strap and began tapping out the commands. The NCO followed. He rested an elbow on the crash pad, leaning in toward me. He didn’t say a word. When the keypad failed, I sat for awhile staring at the field phone, knowing that any transmission on it would be unsecured. I glanced at the NCO, but received no encouragement either way.
I decided to go for broke, snatching up the handset and cranking the generator. He was going to chew me up and spit me out no matter what I did, so I had nothing to lose. Via landline, I was able to contact each network station. Careful not to reveal any classified information over the airways, I instructed them to consult their manuals so we were all on the same page.
Afterwards, I jumped back in the rig and ran the network test again. Oh, to hear the glorious beeps, clicks, and whirs of life. We operated the rest of that day without incident. The NCO never uttered a word. Later that day, back in the barracks, I was summoned to the pay phone in the foyer. I greeted the caller, hearing tinny juke box music, tinkling glassware, and raucous voices in the background. Because he spoke so few times, I didn’t recognize the NCO’s gravelly voice until he introduced himself.
The hair rose on the back of my neck. I must have really messed up if he was calling from the NCO Club to tell me so. Judging by the way he slurred his words, the lecture probably wasn’t going to be polite.
When I didn’t respond, he continued. “I hate women,” he said. “I especially hate women in the Army, so it really hurts to have to tell you this.” He paused for what sounded like another slug from his cocktail.
“But you did one heck of a job out there this morning getting that network back up and running.” Of course, being Old School, he didn’t say “heck,” but I took the liberty to paraphrase.
When I caught my breath after the initial shock, I thanked him. He promised that if I ever told anyone about our conversation, one-sided as it was, that he would promptly deny it. With that, he hung up, and I was left listening to dead air again.
I would go on to receive promotions and other honors from the United States Army, but none gratified me as much as a phone call from a gristly Old School NCO with a chip on his shoulder for women.
~Shirley (Sisko) Harkins
www.dramadrash.org
©2009
"I am a believer of thirteen years and spent much of that time absorbed in scripture study and research. I also hold a Masters Degree in Biblical Study and Theology. My ministry extends to my homelife as a wife and mother. My children are grown and I’m very proud of the godly young adults they’ve become, despite being raised in the church only half of their lives. I am priviledged to serve the Father as Artistic Director of Drama Drash Ministries."
PHOTO: Shown here with husband Danny.
"Dead Air" is published in the Heart of a Military Woman book by Sheryl L. Roush and Eldonna Lewis Fernandez
Chapter: A Day in the Life
Book released Veterans Day 2009.
Posted here with permission from Authors.
Contact: Sheryl@HeartBookSeries.com for permission to reprint. It will be granted.
Shirley Harkins lost her battle with cancer on December 28, 2009. She did, however, get to see this story in print shortly prior to her passing. Upon receiving acknowledgement that Dead Air would be published, she write this note to the publisher:
Dear Ms. Roush,
I am so delighted to be included on this book. My time in the military was among my prouded.
Warm Regards,
Shirley Harkins
Beloved wife, mother and grandmother, she went to her well-deserved place in Heaven as a Daughter of Israel on Monday, December 28, 2009 after a long courageous battle with cancer. Burial with military honors on January 1, 2010 in the Fort Sill National Cemetery, Elgin.
Shirley was a shining star. Much beloved, greatly admired and well respected by all who knew her. She was a woman of constant positive outlook, great self-determination that enabled her to accomplish any goal she set for herself, great personal strength that she readily shared with all who needed her, and great kindness to all. Shirley loved the Lord with all she was and was a model of great fortitude. She never wavered in her faith and commitment to her path of truth and light.
Shirley Sisko Harkins graduated from Luther L. Wright High School in Michigan, spending her senior year as a foreign exchange student in Brasilia, Brazil, where she became fluent in Portuguese. She then attended Michigan State University in Lansing, Michigan. She was a veteran of the US Army, serving honorably as a member of the Women’s Army Corp (WAC) with the US Army Signal Corps in Bad Kreuznach, Germany from 1976 until 1978.
She married Daniel Harkins, earned her Master’s degree in Business at Cameron University in Lawton, then earned a Master’s degree in Divinity and became an ordained minister, as well as Director of the Drama Drash Ministries of Lawton, Oklahoma.
I discovered that peace doesn’t mean the end to conflict;
it simply demonstrates the love of God.
And we don’t have to wait for a major crisis in our lives;
we can allow the peace of Christ to rule our hearts each day.
Richard Parker, Upper Room Daily Devotional
VIEW OTHER BOOKS –AND MUSIC IN THIS SERIES:
Click on title to view each book.
Heart of a Woman (printed)
Heart of a Military Woman (printed) ….. and on Kindle
Heart of a Mother (printed)
Heart of a Mother (printed with Bonus Music CD)
Heart of a Mother … Music CD
Heart of the Holidays (printed) ….. and on Kindle
Heart of the Holidays … Music CD
Heart of a Woman in Business (printed)
Corazon de Mujer (printed) (Heart of a Woman in Spanish)
Heart of a Military Woman: A Book of Tributes
Heart of a Military Woman| No Comments »Heart of a
Military Woman:
A Book of Tributes
INTRODUCTION TO THE HEART OF A MILITARY WOMAN BOOK
When I sit and think about all the military influences in my own life today, I don’t have to look very far. I reflect first on my immediate family tree.
My father, Hiram Roush, served in the Army Corps of Engineers, and went on to become one of the best military aircraft design checkers, masterminded the hydraulic wheel lift system on the E-2, and saved the Apollo 11 black box from exploding on impact at the first landing on the moon on July 20, 1969.
Dad’s younger brother, Henry, was killed in a test flight at Miramar Air Station, taking another guy’s shift so he could be with his family.
Dad’s older brother, James Roush, was a B-52 Bombadier, noted for his accuracy and successful missions.
My mother, Beverly Roush, was a Rosie the Riveter, and met my father when working late shifts at the same plant. Several relatives are members of DAR (Daughters of the American Revolution).
Living in a military base town such as San Diego, it was bound to happen that I would meet and marry a man in the Navy, an Air Traffic Controller (Top Gun), stationed on the USS Horne, and later USS Valley Forge. Not sure how “romantic” this was, but he proposed to me during an episode of M*A*S*H. I understand all too well, being a West-Pac Widow, as his ship was assigned to the USS Ranger during the Persian Gulf War. Although he was highly decorated for his merits, he came home a different man, and became an abusive alcoholic. I’ve since dated a Submarine Senior Chief, and a Marine (not that I’m dating my way through the ranks!).
As a professional trainer, many of my clients are from the military world, not only the individuals and their families, but also their service providers, their hospitals, their housing coordinators, and their transition teams.
I have a certain affinity and a special place in my heart for our military, so I’m proud to produce this book of stories from—and tributes to—each and every one: the service member and their loving, dedicated families.
—Sheryl Roush
The Heart of a Military Woman book was proudly released on Veterans Day, 11 Nov 2009. To purchase copies for yourself and as gifts, click here. To schedule co-authors swww.sherylroush.com and/or Eldonna Lewis Fernandez, female motivational and inspirational speakers for your event, click here.
Veterans Day Remembrance
Holidays, Patriotism, Poems| No Comments »Veterans Day Remembrance
It is the soldier, not the reporter,
Who has given us freedom of the press.
It is the soldier, not the poet,
Who has given us freedom of speech.
It is the soldier, not the campus or community organizer,
Who has given us the freedom to demonstrate.
It is the soldier, who salutes the flag,
Who serves beneath the flag,
And whose coffin is draped by the flag,
Who allows the protester to burn the flag.
— Father Dennis Edward O’Brian, USMC
My Life at The Pentagon
Heart of a Woman in Business, Stories| 1 Comment »Story submission for Heart of a Woman in Business by Sheryl Roush
My Life at The Pentagon
The metal cabinet filled with office supplies rattled under the fierce pounding of the young major’s unrelenting fists. We had just come out of the conference room. The clanging and clacking sent the other officers and civilians scurrying to their cubicles like kids playing hide and seek. The roar hung overhead like a threatening thunderstorm.
While I stood there in disbelief, thinking of my options, the sound floated into the hallway—the primal scream of a mortally wounded dinosaur. Should I meet him on his terms? Should I retaliate? I turned without a word, went into my office, and closed the door. It is better to act than to react.
Major Miller did not agree with a course of action I had laid out for him. We discussed it, but I did not adopt his way of thinking. He could not contain his anger. In my nine years on the Army Staff in the Pentagon, this was the only incident when someone so strongly and openly disagreed with me.
Coming to work in the Pentagon was distasteful for many officers. There is a popular cliché portrayed on postcards and other memorabilia, “Happiness is the Pentagon in the rear view mirror.” Officers coming into our division usually had been in command of troops. They were accustomed to being the leader in their units. In the Pentagon, they had a desk job in a cubicle, without a secretary or staff of any kind. Yet, a tour of duty in the Pentagon was necessary for moving up in the ranks. There, officers learned things they would never be exposed to in the units, like the culmination of the budget process, force planning data and assumptions, and preparing general officers for their Congressional testimony, among many things. They also had an opportunity to work closely with civilians in the Department of Defense.
Major Miller is a good man, a dedicated soldier with sound values. He had simply encountered a different kind of tension in this job, a civilian woman in authority, and he didn’t know how to handle it. The sound of his pounding floated into the office of the Director, a Major General (two stars insignia). After a short while the general’s executive officer (XO), crossed the hall. He knew that my boss was on Temporary Duty, out of town. The XO opened my office door, stuck his head in and asked “Is everything okay?” I nodded, “Yes.” He closed the door and went back to his office. That sign of affirmation and trust, and others like it, kept me going when otherwise my knees may have buckled.
After some time, Major Miller regained his composure and came in to see me, apologetic and ready to get to work. I was neither vindictive nor angry. His outburst had not diminished my standing or my self-esteem. He soon transferred out of the office.
During times of emergency regular duty hours in our area went out the window. Often it was 7:00 PM or later before we left the building. On one occasion, it was 10:00 PM before I got home. There were no taxis in sight.
Walking from the Metro rail station to my condo took me down a dirt road traveled only by our shuttle bus which had stopped running by the time I arrived. Two parallel ruts, a small clearing, then underbrush and trees—we had been warned of robberies that occurred along this road. This was in the days before cell phones and I was afraid.
My heart pounded—would the gate to the condo complex be chained? How could I get around the enclosure if it were? I nervously fingered my pass card as I neared the gate. The night was dark. God is good, the pass card slipped into the groove on the second try and the gate release clicked. I pushed and the bars began to move. Within seconds I was in the lighted parking lot. My steps quickened and soon I was inside Building 4 where I lived. The upholstered furniture in the foyer was very inviting, but I resisted. Upstairs I had a drink and fell into bed. Knowing that morning was not far away. When we realize the value of what we do, we are inclined to do whatever it takes to get the job done.
It was another exciting day. A unit commander who had served in our office when he was a young major, needed help quickly—desperately. He had orders to move his troops as quickly as possible from the tree-studded hillsides in Germany to the hot desert sands of Saudi Arabia. Saddam Hussein had already invaded Kuwait—no one knew where he would strike next. The adrenaline was pumping! This commander had a serious computer problem. If it didn’t get fixed, troops in the Middle East would not get the supplies they needed. In the fog of war, his regular chain of command was not responsive. He called me.
“I need some help here,” he said and then explained his situation. I called the experts at the Logistics Center in Petersburg, VA. They gave the computer problem the necessary priority and the mission was accomplished. Sounds easy, doesn‘t it? Creative thinking, professionalism and dedication to duty saved the day.
A few years later, as I stood in the line of well wishers at a Change of Command ceremony in Pennsylvania, I spotted that officer in line ahead of me. He was then Chief of Staff of an Army Depot, a colonel with eagle insignia on his uniform. I stepped out of line and tapped him on the shoulder. He turned and in what seemed like slow motion, a huge smile spread across his face as he recognized me. He abruptly stepped out of line, grabbed me around the waist, lifted me off my feet, and began whirling me around! It was surreal! “Here’s a colonel in full uniform with his boss standing nearby,” I thought, “whirling me around and around!” It was like a warrior’s homecoming, our own Times Square celebration. He was very happy! I was embarrassed but very happy, too.
Celebration is good for the soul. Too often we demure, “It was nothing,” and short circuit someone else’s thanksgiving.
Whether on the battlefields of war or the battlefields of business, personal power is important. Be real. Know who you are. Value loyalty to your country and your God. Speak your truths and respect others. You have the power.
The Army is a family. It’s their culture. As a civilian employee, I was family, too.
In our organization departing personnel received a large picture of the Pentagon surrounded by a wide white mat. The print and mat were circulated among the staff for comments, kudos, and farewells, then framed and presented to the departing person.
My father was especially pleased that one of his children was working in the Pentagon. When he was hospitalized in Corpus Christi, Texas, with congestive heart failure, I asked one of the officers if I could get the print matted for my father. He wanted to know more. I explained about my father’s condition and suggested that our Director, Major General Akin, might sign it. The officer said he’d see what he could do.
After a few days he presented me with a framed, matted print for my father.
Our Director was away, so took the picture to the next level. Lieutenant General Ross, the Deputy Chief of Staff for Logistics, a three-star general. General Ross personalized it.
MR FREDDIE FOUNTENO
Office of the Deputy Chief of Staff for Logistics
Headquarters Department of the Army, Pentagon, April 1991.
“Mr. Founteno, We share your pride in Jo and the super job she has done for the Army. She is clearly one of our best. Please accept with our compliments this symbol of our nation’s defense.”
One might suggest that the comments about me were exaggerated and I would not argue. My father was so pleased, he had a nurse post the framed print in the hallway outside his room so everyone going by could see it. He died May 9, 1991.
Great people are never too important or too busy to take time for others.
-Jo Condrill, CEO of GoalMinds, Inc., www.GoalMinds.com
What does it take for a woman to successfully lead a diverse group of seasoned personnel? The Secretary of the Army awarded Jo Condrill The Decoration for Exceptional Civilian Service. It is the highest award possible for a civilian employee.
Jo Condrill has created an eCourse designed to reveal the secrets of her success. Check out http://www.goalminds.com/minicourse.html
She is the founder and CEO of GoalMinds, Inc.