I am a former WAC

Week 11 - Military - I am a former WAC

It was summer, 1973.  I was 19 years old and I didn't know what I wanted to be when I grew up. But I knew I wanted to run away from home where my folks were approaching the end of their marriage.  So I joined the Army.  Actually the Woman's Army Corps (WAC) as the Women were not part of the regular army until 1978.

I went to visit the local recruiter and took the aptitude test.  I scored well, high enough that I could select any specialty that I wanted. It was the recruiter who suggested Language school, like the Private Benjamin movie with Goldie Hawn, my recruiter suggested it was the country club of the Army. The language school required you to pass a special aptitude test.  It had a made up language that you had to answer questions about.  I passed it as well.  At that time, a recruit had an option to be guaranteed either a job specialty or a permanent duty station on the enlistment contract. For the language school there were 2 options, for a 3 year enlistment you were guaranteed to be sent to the language school; for a 4 year enlisted, you could select the language.  I enlisted for 3 years.

I was assigned to the basic Romanian Language class; it was a 9 month school. There were 6 students in my class, 2 FBI agents, 1 soldier and 3 WACs, one of which was out on a medical discharge half way through our class.  It was like going to college, we were billeted in 2 man rooms in a brand new barracks. This was quite a change from the WWII wooden barracks we were housed in at Ft. McClellan. We had formation once a week and didn't march to class. We had a "garden party" once a week.  Imagine my disappointment when I realized that at the "garden party" I had to rake gravel and do yard work.  

I worked for the Army Security Agency (ASA - the Army’s spy organization). My MOS (Military Occupational Specialty) was Advanced Intercept operator - Romanian Linguist. You might ask what the heck is that? Back in the cold war, spooks were stationed in remote locations with their radio equipment and reel to reel tape decks.  They would scan the radio waves seeking intelligence.  When they would locate radio traffic that sounded interesting, they would tape the channel, note the radio frequency, date, time, language, etc. and ship it off to other spooks to analyze.   This MOS required a top secret clearance. While I was attending school, the FBI was conducting a background check on me. When I went home on leave, my former coworkers told me the FBI had there to interview them.

There were two of us who left the Phoenix Entrance Processing Center on July 23rd, 1973.  They put us on plane from Phoenix to Atlanta. In Atlanta we went to the USO room where Military personnel met the incoming recruits and put them on buses to be transported to Anniston, Alabama the home of Ft. McClellan where all WACs were sent for basic training.

We arrived at the base after dark.  I was assigned to Company D, 3rd battalion. Most recruits attended basic training for 8 weeks.  In the summer of 1973, the Army was trying to see if they could shorten basic to 6 weeks.  The trial wasn’t successful  and they soon went back to 8 weeks. I was one of the lucky few who was in a 6 week Basic training program.

Alabama in July and August is hot and humid. Prior to joining the Army, I was working as a delivery girl for my dad's auto parts store in Tempe, Arizona; I delivered the part using a non-air conditioned truck.  I was used to the heat, if not the humidity.  If the heat and humidity were too high, we were not allowed to march or to perform PT.  The day we graduated our DI complained that we still couldn't march worth a damn.

Our Barracks were vintage WWII; No air conditioning.  Our platoon of just under 40 recruits was assigned to the 2nd floor.  There was one open room with 40 metal bunks (probably WWII vintage as well with a thin mattress and a thin pillow), and 40 sets of lockers. There was a large wall fan on one end to the room.  That was our sole source of comfort from the hot Alabama summer. We were taken to a warehouse full of uniforms to be outfitted.  We were given shots multiple times - the military brats with their shot records had an edge on the rest of us.  We were getting shots on one hot afternoon when I received word that I needed to go see the Captain. That was an unusual occurrence.  So off I went.

The Captain had a message from the Red cross; my brother-in-law Jim Pender had been seriously injured in fall.  I had been living with Jimmy and my sister Shirley the previous spring.  I was real upset and wanted to go home to help my sister.  The Captain gave me a choice, I could go home for 5 days and still graduate with my class; I could go home for longer, but would have to join another unit to complete basic training; or I could request a hardship discharge.  I went home for 5 days.  Around the end of August I graduated from basic training with my platoon.  My mother, my sister Shirley (now a widow) and my niece Rachel who was just toddler attended my graduation.

I went to the Defense Language Institute (DLI) at the Presidio of Monterey, California. DLI was multiservice (Army, Navy, Air force, Marine), and multi-agency (FBI, California Forestry, NSA analysts, etc). There was a bunch of Green Beret’s in the Spanish classes across the hall from me.

One big difference at DLI from most other posts was the mix of males to females.  DLI had a largest percentage of women to men of any base.  The ratio was 1:10 when I arrived in September of 1973 and 1:4 when I graduated in the summer of 1974. 

My roommate and I were very compatible, we were soon inseparable. When I went home for my sister's wedding, Lee came with me.  When she went to Denver to visit her family, I went with her. We still keep in touch. Lee was a Russian Linguist.  The Russian program was one of the largest.  They had a voluntary Russian Folk Dancing group that Lee joined.  I used to attend the practices with her.  Just before the group was to perform in Carmel, one of the dancers was unable to make it. Lee talked everyone in to letting me join the group "as I already knew the routines". So I went with the group to Carmel. Another weekend I went with the group to dance at a Russian Festival in San Francisco. 

As the summer of 1974 approached, it was time for graduation.  The Army posted available permanent duty station slots that were available to us based on language specialty. Based on your class rank, you selected your post (i.e. top student got first choice). In our class the 1 male soldier, Jim, was sent to Augsburg, Germany. Poor Leava and I were not given a choice - we went sent to Fort Meade. It seems that the Army spent 9 months training 2 women in Romanian Language and the only billets available for Romanian linguists were tactical; and women were not allowed to serve in tactical positions. So we were shipped to Ft. Meade to work at NSA (National Security Agency). 

My next stop was Intercept operator school at Goodfellow Air force base in San Angelo, Texas. In the months preceding my arrivals there had been a hail storm in San Angelo - One of the WACs had bought a new car sporting hail damage divots on the hood.  I arrive after the spring tornado season - so I didn't have to find the storm shelter during my stay.

The barracks at Goodfellow AFB were new 2 man rooms, 8 rooms to a pod. Each pod had a bathroom and a day room with TV and a refrigerator. You could call in and request a box lunch and they would deliver it to you at the barracks on a bike.  The school population was very low when I was there. I had a room to myself. I was only there for 6 short weeks.  It was hot, especially after my 9 months in cool, damp Monterey.

The classes were 6 hours long; in the heyday of training operators for Vietnam, the school would run 4 six hour shifts. In the summer of 74, they were only running 2 shifts; I was in the noon to 6 shift.  My MOS required me to be able to type 25 words a minute.  They held typing class in the morning.  I had taken typing in high school; I passed the typing exam my first day. So I had mornings free and didn't have to report until noon. As a night person, the schedule was very pleasing to me.

I found the Intercept operator school fascinating.  We learned how to identify different Eastern Block languages (Russian, Bulgarian, Polish, etc.) and type of traffic (tank, aircraft, border guard, etc.) We also learned to use the electronic radio and taping equipment. I graduated at the top of my class and received a promotion to PFC as a result.  

It was in San Angelo that I met my first husband, Bruce Nekich - he was a Vietnamese Linguist.  He was at Monterey the same time I was, but I didn’t know him. We spent our weekends roaming Texas.  We spent one weekend in Dallas where I caught up with one of my former roommates. We went to Ciudad Acuña, Mexico (across the River from Del Rio).  We graduated at the same time and we were both heading for Ft. Meade.

My next stop was my primary duty station, Fort Meade, Maryland which is located about half way between Baltimore and Washington just off the Baltimore-Washington Parkway. I was assigned to the USASA Support Group -ASA members assigned to support the National Security Agency (NSA). We called NSA the golf ball factory due to the large white antennas on top of the building. Our barracks were inside the NSA fenced compound which was separated from the rest of the base by a distance that was more than I wanted to walk.  I was assigned to the Romanian Linguist group which was located at an NSA annex located near the Baltimore Washington Airport (a 20 minute bus ride between sites).

Bruce and I were married just before Christmas 1974. There was no base housing available for lowly E-3/E-4’s so we rented an apartment off post in Glen Bernie, Md. Transportation was a problem, we only had 1 car, and we worked at different sites.  Bruce was at the main office, I was at the annex, we made due. Bruce had the car - I carpooled with my office mates who lived nearby. For a short time, I moonlighted for the janitorial service that cleaned the NSA offices at night for extra money.

After I had been at Ft. Meade for about a year, the Army took all soldiers who were working at NSA in non-Army billets and moved them from the NSA support group to the 376 ASA Company. The 376th (located at Ft. Meade on the other side of the base) was a "tactical unit" (hello...I'm a woman).  They issued me fatigues and combat boots. That was our daily uniform vs. the dress skirt and jacket I had been wearing. They issued me a gas mask which they fitted with custom inserts to correct my vision. They issued me an M-16 (hello I'm a WAC, I didn't fire weapons in basic training - I had classes on putting on makeup).  They took us out to the range, gave us a crash course on handling, firing and cleaning a weapon.  Which was actually doing us a favor as those who wished to reenlist in the regular army now had the proper qualifications.

We had to pass a combat PT test (they didn't have for women - they said we had to pass the men's PT test, but later reconsidered). We had to go through the gas chamber once a year. We had mandatory formation every morning.  About twice a month they would have a random drug test, if your number was called you went to pee.  Then they made PT mandatory twice a week - we could do any activity we wanted but we had to do PT.  My ex was a golfer, so twice a week we were on the golf course where I attempted to hit a little white ball down the greens.  It was not my best moment.

When we weren't busy with all this nonsense, we were supposed to go to NSA and continue with our NSA support activities.  So after formation we had to find a way to the other side of the base and catch the bus to the annex. We were arriving at NSA around 9:30 or 10 in the morning. Our NSA management didn't know what to make of it - and frankly didn't believe us as they were used to working with people who were assigned to support NSA full time. I didn't take too well to not being believed.  I went to the NSA personnel department and asked for a transfer to anywhere else.  I soon had a change of management. When my 3 years was up, I was honorably discharged.