Spoils of Invasion

Michael G. Crawford

Chapter One

Finishing the early morning chores was formost in her mind at this point. First year students were required to achieve in very short time, their customary and extraordinary proficiency chores. This meant they must clean, organize, polish and secure the small cubicals they called "cadet quarters", all before they were inspected by their upper classmen, all in just 10 minutes before breakfast. So from 6:00 am to 7:00 am, then drudged through their tedious toils. But there was also the ritual of infusing the day's trivia into their already overloaded minds. From the morning's breakfast menu, to the latest football scores and major player statistics, it all had to be memorized. The cadet had to be ready to recite at any given moment, with a certain amount of feelling, the questions proposed to them by their upper classmen.

Even if not as old as America's oldest academy, West Point, the discipline forced upon the first year cadets at the this Academy was not that much different. And despite the lack of long tradition at the Colorado facility, the Air Force Academy still seemed to instill in the young cadets the feeling of long lines of cadets having gone through it all before. It was a reminder to them that as much as it was hated and feared, the first year hazing was never-the-less survivable.

And for Darla Franchesca Sanchez Lake, it would never become easier or more tolerable. As a women in a classical male environment, her persecutors seemed to reach down into the depths of their failed relationships with women, as well as their own memories of failures as humans, to find more highly developed forms of hazing to the female plebes. Nothing, short of physical or sexual abuse, was held back, the upper classmen being coached by others experienced in washing out female interlopers in the all male world of the Air Force.

Certainly Darla had not yet found anyone to help her figure out how to survive the year as a plebe. Her biggest hopes had died that first day when she was beset upon a flaming shrew in dirty brown hair known to her only as Mr. Carlson. "Mr." Carlson was Angie Carlson, one of the few female cadets to survive being a plebe for 12 months. And now that survivor had to prove she would show no mercy to another of her sex. Moreover, rumor had it that Carlson would have the unprecedented job of leaning on a plebe next year as well, the bright minds of the Air Force Academy wanting to forstal any hint of inability of the female cadets to handle male subordinates as well. This too would be Darla's test, if her time as an upperclassmen ever arrived. And the special exception, albeit a discrimination of sorts, would continue at least until the Air Force had enough females in the command grades to prove their point.

Suppressing the sigh that might be interpreted as a typical female weakness by those too ignorant, she moved over to the mirror to begin the daily plebe's self inventory, making sure her cadet uniform was in the best form.

Her roomate, Buddy Lenderson, had gone through a whole lot of shit the first two weeks for having a female roommate yet had stuck with her with incredible loyalty. Now they had adjusted to living in the same room and going through inspections together. He moved over and pointed at things that he saw needed fixing, with a special care to the areas Darla could not see as well in the mirror. Then she did the same for him, making sure that both of them would survive the ritual morning inspection.

Then they both played through an inspection of their quarters in the few remaining minutes before the upper classmen arrived.

They heard the sounds of quiet as the upper classmen began their walks down the long hallway, to arrive at precisely the appointed hour, not one second early or late. She took a long breath and let it out, noting as she stood at a attention by the door, that her roommate looked especially pale today.

"Fuck em, Buddy. They don't know who they're messing with!" she whispered and out of the corner of her eye she saw the grin flash for a moment and then disappear before their "enemy" made the square turn into their doorway.

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"Quote me the Military Code of Conduct pertaining to orders of battle, Mister!"

"Sir! A soldier must obey the lawful order of his superiors, Sir!" replied Darla in that forced battlefield cry of command voice.

"Pray tell, Cadet, give me an example of an unlawful order".

That gave her pause. A new twist on that one. Oh well, step thee into the breech, my dear.

"Sir! Lt. Calley ordered his men to fire upon a village clearly filled with non-combatants. Despite his orders to seek and destroy Viet Cong, he allowed his suspicions to take the form of retribution for the entire village, Sir!"

"Are you another Lt. Calley, Cadet?" asked the other upper-classman to Lake.

"No Sir! I believe orders I give will be nothing but legal orders, Sir!"

"You believe Mr. Lake? You believe? Your orders WILL be lawful. Period. Do I make myself clear Mr. Lake. That will be 20 rounds Mr. Lake. Report yourself to the yardmaster for punishment this evening. Proceed to your breakfast!"

"Yes, Sir, thank you Sir!"

"Oh you are so welcome Mr. Lake, very welcome. Dismissed."

"Sir!"

Darla marched away, her fuming not visible on her face. Talk about chickenshit. Lawful orders indeed. She had done excellent on the answer. She knew the lesson better than most, having had the military man's code of ethics crammed down her throat at that early age. It began her thinking of her Uncle Francis. Damn she missed home.

But even as the discipline was wearing down on her, a part of her mind would be stepping back to watch it all in a kind of third body experience. She had to learn how to do this right. Male cadets might take a while to learn how to perform as upper classmen, but she would have to do it right the first time, with no mistakes and with the great fervor that Carlson seemed to enjoy. And speaking of the devil, her she came to make the intercept. Leave it to Carlson to catch her with only a minute to go before the "stand" in the mess room. Now she would be late.

"Keep moving Cadet, we wouldn't want you to miss your daily intake of much needed nutrition." But the women still moved right up to her face, and then miracously stared walking backwards, their faces nose to nose.

"Senior Cadet Davies told me that you feel you have a good understanding of the Code of Ethics and the Military Code. So I have a more pertinent question..."

"Ah, been waiting for that" thought Darla to herself, as she tried to maintain her composure marching to class with an upperclassmen hanging off her face.

"Exception 14, for women in combat, Mr. Lake"

"Sir! A woman soldier may not move forward into combat. But if that woman soldier is fired upon, may defend herself as necessary."

"Glad you know that Mr. Lake. You and I get to save our butts in battle. If I ever hear of you not returning fire, I'll personally come find you and fly the appropriate fighter aircraft up your rearmost orifice. You clear on that?"

"Yes SIR!"

"Proceed"

"Sir!"

Whew it was certainly worse today. She wondered what was up. Then she figured it out. Gym class promised to be filled with surprises. She had heard rumors that the Secretary of Defense had finally signed off on the Panama Act. After 160 women found themselves in combat in Panama, a number of them had been forced to return fire, killing a few of Noriega's personal forces. Congress had been alarmed, and drafted a new section to the Military Code, prohibiting Command Officers from placing units with female soldiers in proximity to battle as to insure their their need for return of fire. In other words, a commander could be court martialed for engaging the enemy with female soldiers. "A giant leap backwards, thank you Sir!" she voiced inaudibly to herself. "Damn".

But as she got to gym class, she saw a couple of smiles on the two men she called friends at the Academy, Buddy Lenderson and Courtney Phillips.

"Marchessi didn't go for it!"

"What?"

"We just saw it on the TV! The Secretary of Defense is going to be on. Come on, let's take a sec to look."

Darla was going to pass on the idea, time running as short as it was, when she noticed the gym instructor waving her group over to the locker room office where he had a TV plugged in.

As she arrived, she saw the Secretary of Defense, Adam Marchessi was on the screen, his dower face now even more so as he was reading a statement.

"...and I will not second guess the commander in the field. If it is his or her determination that an assault force must be moved into line of combat, then that force moves regardless if it is made up of men, woman, or little green men. To prohibit a commander free field of fire unnecessarily just because their might be a women out there, is an insult to the fine women in our services today...worse, its an insult to brave women throughout our country. Congress should be ashamed of what they have asked our military commanders to do, and I have urged the President to veto the bill most emphatically, and I caution Congress to consider the political ramifications of an override attempt. I don't believe the women of America will reelect any elected officer of our nobel and brave country who could stoop so low."

Darla smiled at the news, and her instructor noticing the smile, said,

"Anxious to go to battle, huh Lake. Fine with me. Let's see what you got. SUIT UP!" he shouted to her and the rest of the cadets. Darla, after setting her aside her joy at the Secretary's position, returned to the here and now, realizing that today was probably going to be exceptionally interesting. They were going to be doing baton practice. This was a four foot shaft with padded bags on either end. The objective was to train the soldier in combativeness, and personal defense skills. Next month they would move into hand to hand. She also knew it was a test to see if the would-be leaders had the spirit of a soldier...the strength, courage, and mental toughness to fight when called upon. Well they all had a surprise coming their too. She hadn't learned to speak Japanese in a language class.

As she moved into her little corner of the locker room, she quickly stripped to her T- shirt and panties, then just as quickly pulled on the bulky gym shorts. She was glad she was able to change here, and that she was allowed, along with the other female cadets to shower in a separate walled off pair of showers. It kept the awkwardness down. The Academy was still behind in co-ed facilities...her high school friends were at Berkeley or Davis, with rooms and showers fully co-ed. Leave it to the slow moving Acadamy to remain so sexist. Of course, it probably was a good idea in many respects, with the hazing and all, it might not do to have the cadets reminded that some of them were of the "wrong" sex.

For some reason, this brought to mind the image of Carlson frog marching her across the compound this morning.

Even with Carlson's face inches from her own, Darla had been able to enjoy that special mindset that let her watch and learn...learn how to be the ultimate bitch. Could the upperclassman have known about the Secretary's decision? Or was she trying to prepare Darla for the day's lesson in combativeness. Well as she had thought earlier, today would be a surprise for a few. She'd take 'em down to the deck in record time...every opponent.

In her normal classwork, she showed this same lack of mercy, setting the standards for which the brightest minds the Academy could lure into their fold after she graduated. That was her mission, and she was well on to accomplishing it. Not that the competition was any less great in the years before she was accepted to the Academy. On the contrary. She was nearly not accepted despite her 4.0 average, incredible test scores, and exceptional pre-academy skills endorsement from her Uncle. He had been a test pilot at Edwards, and a flight instructor. His endorsement had commented on his own predjudice, but rather than emphasis his fatherly relationship, he had written that his predjudice was for the exceptional skill level that Candidate Darla Lake had demonstrated at her FAA exams at age 16.

The confirmation of the Aptitude Battery Tests administered prior to her offer of Academy attendance, had shown that if she could manage graduation, she would go directly to transition training for jets, bypassing primary all together. As a pilot with 3,000 hours, fully instrument rated, she would have hated to have to go through all the bull of requalifying. She even had managed to qualify for dual engine rating as well, with some 200 hours flying the General's Lear.

All because her Uncle had told her at age 11, she was a natural...

Chapter Two
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Last Updated: November 8, 1996