Gray Girl (30 page)

Jan could bang out sit-ups all
day.
 
Time usually gave out
first.
 
So she started pumping, up
and down, up and down.
 
She heard
Kristi say, “50.”
 

“ONE MORE
MINUTE.”
 

Dang!
 
I am smokin'!

She heard, “75,” then “80,”
...then
“85”….

“TIME'S UP! CEASE
WORK, CADETS!”
  

90
friggin sit-ups!
 
Take that Dogety!

The first portion of the APRT
finished in less than fifteen minutes.
 
Company H-3 then proceeded outside for the two-mile run.
 
Every
thirty seconds, a group of ten cadets began running until they came to the
“turn around point.”
 
There, they
circled around an orange cone and ran back to the starting line.

In the last group of plebes, Jan,
Kristi and Angel lined up for the start of the two-mile run. The three women
took off together, but soon Jan pulled ahead of Angel and Kristi.
 
Most of the guys started in earlier
groups and began returning on their left.
 
“Good job, Jan, you're doing great,” Drew shouted as he ran past.
 
Cadet Trane and a couple other
upperclassmen cheered her on as well.
 

“Good running form, Wishart.” Dogety
said as he passed.
 
That was a
compliment, she figured, coming from him.
 

Just as she was closing in on the
“turn around” cone, a male cow shouted,
 
“Move those thunder thighs!”
 

And then, it just didn't matter
anymore.
 
It didn't matter that she
knocked out 40 push-ups and 90 sit-ups.
 
It didn't matter that a handful of guys cheered her on.
 
It didn't matter that she finished the
two miles in 15:45.
 
The only thing
Jan absorbed, the only thing Jan thought about for weeks, was her
thighs
.

33

Saturday,
May 8, 1982

0040 Hours

Jan’s breath caught.
 
She
was seeing but not believing.

He bent down, fumbling with his pants, trying to pull them up to cover
his now limp penis.
 
As he struggled
with the trousers, he shouted, “You really fucked up this time, Wishart.”
 

Several paint cans were lined up just inside the door.
 
Kristi grabbed one and threw it into the
room knocking him backward onto another desk.
  

Jan flew out the door, followed by Kristi.
 
They ran across the hallway.
 
Jan flung open the door, and they raced
up the steps two at a time, coming to B-3.
 
The rapist shouted from somewhere below,
 
“I’m gonna kill you both!
 
You fucking cunts!”

The roommates reached B-2, B-1, and finally G where Jan flung open
another door leading to one of the Mess Hall kitchens.
 
They had no idea where they were in
relation to their barracks, but they kept running.
 
Halfway through the kitchen, Kristi
spotted a large butcher knife hanging on the wall.
 
She grabbed it and kept running behind
Jan.
  
They passed through two
double swinging doors into the massive Mess Hall.
 
Only exit lights could be seen in the
dark cavernous space.
  
Jan
bumped into a table.
 
“Shit!”
 

“Jan, let’s hide under a table.
 
There are about five hundred in here; he’ll never find us.”
 

But Jan didn’t like the idea of being trapped.
 
What if he did find the one they were
under?
 
Then what?
 
“Kristi, you hide under that table,” she
pointed to one nearby.
 
“I’ll keep
moving and draw him to another part of the Mess Hall.
 
When you hear him leave this area, take
off and go find the Cadet in Charge of the Guard.”
 

Kristi didn’t like the idea of splitting.
 
She figured two are better than
one.
 
Especially if it came down to
hand to hand combat.
 
“Jan, let’s
stay together.”
 

“Okay, well then, let’s head to one of the exits and figure out where
to go once we are outside.”
 

“You sure we shouldn’t just wait him out in here?
 
He can outrun us.”

“I’m sure we can’t have a meeting and discuss all the options.” Jan
seethed between her teeth.

“Okay, you decide then,”
Kristi
said.
 
Jan didn’t want to hide, but since
Kristi did, she agreed.
 
Their eyes
had adjusted to the darkness and Jan crawled under what looked like table 149
while Kristi crept under table 163.
 
They both kept in a crouching position in case they had to make a run
for it.

Only a moment later, they heard the attacker lumbering through the
kitchen through which they had just passed.
 
He pushed through the double swinging
doors and began prowling up and down the rows and rows of tables.
 

“I know you bitches are in here,” he shouted.
 
“I can smell you.”
 

Jan kept quiet under table 149.
 
She heard him come closer and closer.
 
He approached her table.
 
She held her breath.
 
She saw his black cadet shoes as he
walked passed.
  
That’s it,
bastard, keep going.

She watched his shoes as he turned at the end of the row and came back
down the next row over where Kristi’s table was.
 
“You can’t fool me, bitches, I’ll find
you eventually.”
 
Jan saw him stop
right next to table 163.
  
“Ah,
what have we here?”
 
He lifted the
tablecloth with the toe of his shoe.
 

Kristi bolted out the other side and began running wildly, butcher
knife in hand.
 
Jan jumped out from
her hiding spot and ran after her friend, relying mainly on sound given that
she could barely see anything.
 
They
ran into tables, chairs and food carts, knocking over dishes, silverware,
serving trays, and any number of condiments.
 
Thankfully, their pursuer had the same
problem.
 
But he was faster and more
nimble at getting back up and was quickly closing the gap.

Kristi ran toward the Poop Deck, the large stone balcony in the middle
of the Mess Hall where announcements were made at every meal.
  
Jan ran after the shadow that was
her roommate, following it up the steps of the Poop Deck.
 
No, Kissy, not up.
 
Anywhere but up.

The man saw the two women enter the stairwell and gave chase.
 
“Now, you’re going to pay,” he
shouted.
 

“Kristi, what are you doing?”
 
Jan called to her friend.
 

“Just keep following me, Jan,
”
 
Kristi
called back as she reached
the balcony and raced across it.
 
Jan followed, making sure not to look over the sides.
 
They arrived at the other end where
another stairway lead back down to the main floor.
 
Kristi turned to Jan, “You know where
you are now, go get the CG and come back as quickly as you can.”
 

“What about you?”
 
Jan
asked.

“Just go!” Kristi shouted.
 

Jan didn’t think.
 
She just
ran down the steps, two at a time.
 
She
kept running, out a familiar exit, then all the way to the Command Guard office
where she flung open the door, and shouted, “COME QUICKLY!
 
SOMEONE’S TRYING TO KILL MY ROOMMATE!”

34

Accomplishment of the mission

Welfare
of his subordinates

Efficient
use of resources

Responsibilities of a Commander,
Bugle Notes, 81, p. 57

Staying focused on academics became a
huge problem for most cadets by the end of April.
 
Everyone began planning and imagining
their summer leave.
 
Jan knew she
needed a study group to help her focus on term end exams, so she rounded up her
small band of friends.
 
Drew and Jan
sat on her bed while Kristi and Angel sat on the floor for their first session
at 2000 hours.

“Officer in the building!”
 
Someone shouted from the hallway and the
four plebes popped to attention.
 
Metal taps from an officer's shoes became louder and louder.
 
Click,
click, click,
click
.
 
The tapping stopped when G-3’s Tactical
Officer, Captain Easmann, arrived at their door.
 
Behind him stood Drew's Squad Leader and
Company Commander.
 

“Cadet Hambin, come with me,
”
 
Captain
Easmann ordered.

Jan and Drew looked at each
other.
 
Then he shrugged his
shoulders and walked out of the door, following his TAC.
 
Jan tiptoed to the door, peeked around
the frame, and watched as Drew disappeared in the stairwell.

The next morning, Jan’s history
professor ordered the class to pick up their desks and place them a couple feet
apart from each other.
 
The “Stagger
Desks” command was kind of like “Fallout.”
 
Everyone moved their desks to random, disorderly positions.
 
This supposedly diminished the ability
and temptation to cheat.
 
She rushed
through the pop quiz, not caring about her grade, dropped the paper on her
professor’s desk and ran out of the door to find Drew.
 

She couldn’t study after Captain
Easmann took Drew away.
 
His room
had been empty both times she had checked before Taps.
 
She couldn't sleep most of the night
either and hadn’t seen him all morning.
  
Now she knocked softly again on
his door.

“Come in.”
 

Claude Jenkins, Drew’s roommate, sat
at his desk behind his neatly made bed.
 
The other bed, Drew’s bed, had been stripped.
 
No sheets, no blanket, no pillow.
 
Drew’s desk sat empty.
 
Papers, books, alarm clock were all
missing.

“Where's Drew?” she asked.

“He resigned,” Jenkins said.

“WHAT???”

“They made him move all his stuff to
Transient Barracks this morning.”

“Why?”

“He should tell you.”

“Tell me now!”

“I’m not supposed to say anything.”

“C’mon Jenk, you know I’m his best
friend.”

“That’s why he should be the one to
tell you.
 
I’ll go with you to see
him if you want.”

“Yes, I want to see him.
 
But give me a hint, dammit.”
 

Claude Jenkins stood up.
 
“C’mon, let’s go.”

The two plebes raced over to
“Transient Barracks,” which wasn't the name of a building like Thayer Hall or
Washington Hall.
  
It was the
label given to a set of rooms used to transfer cadets out of the Corps—a
holding area for anyone who resigned or was expelled.

They found Drew there alone in a room
with all his bags packed.
 
He seemed
smaller somehow.
 
He looked
defeated, empty.
 
Transient.

“Drew!” She ran to hug him.
 
He had tears in his eyes, and Jan’s
started to well up also.
 
“Drew,
what happened?”

“I had to resign,” he said.
 
“I didn't have a choice.”

“Why?”
 
Jan asked as Jenkins stood quietly next
to her.

“A couple of my wrestling teammates
accused me of being a homosexual.
 
They said I tried to touch them in the locker room.”

Jan gasped, “Oh, Drew!”

“I know.
 
It's not fair.
 
It's not right.
 
But it's their word against mine.
 
And there are two of them.”

“No!”
 
she
cried.
 
No,
No, NO!
 
“They can’t do this,
Drew; we can fight it.”

“I’m afraid we can’t,” he said.
 

Jan stared at him in disbelief.
 
I lift mine eyes…
“Why not?
 
We’ve fought plenty of things already.
What’s one more?”

Drew sighed, “This is too big,
Jan.
 
I can’t win.”

...
to
the hills, from whence cometh my help.
 
This couldn’t be happening.
 
Not now.
 
Not to Drew.
 
Weren’t there plenty of other cadets who
didn’t want, or didn’t deserve, to stay at West Point?
 
Shouldn’t Jan be the one to leave?
 
She didn’t know what to think or how to
feel.

“
Are
you a homosexual?”

“No!” he said immediately.
 
“Of course not.”

It didn't matter either way to
her.
  
Yet homosexuals would
never be accepted in the Army.
 
Everyone knew that.
 
Drew
continued, “the TAC told me I had two choices:
 
I could resign and leave with dignity or
I could try to fight it and get kicked out anyway.”
 

Or
was it: From whence cometh my help?
 
Is it a statement or a question?
 
“Drew, there’s got to be a way to fight this.
 
I will stand by you.
 
So will Kissy, and you, too, Jenk,
right?
 
She turned to Drew’s
roommate.

“Uh, I…I’ll do what I can,” Jenkins
said.

“Thanks guys, but there’s nothing
anyone can do.
 
It’s over,” Drew
sighed.
 
His shoulders fell.

I
lift mine eyes…to the hills…
 
“Drew!
 
Drew!
 
Drew!”
 
She choked as she said his name
 
“How can I stay without you?”
 

“Don’t say that, Jan.
 
You’ve done everything on your own and
you’ll be fine.”
 
He put his arms
around her.

“No.
 
No, I won’t be fine.”
 
She hugged him again.
 
The two friends sat down on the
bed.
 
Jenkins sat on Drew’s
footlocker.
 
They talked for close
to an hour until there was nothing more to say.
 
Nothing could be done.
 
They were powerless to change the
judgment and sentence. There would be no leniency.
 
No appeal.
 
No pardon.
 

They could only say goodbye and hope
that someday, everything would be okay.
 
But Jan knew nothing would be okay.
 
Nothing would ever be okay.

She hugged him one last time.
 
“Drew, I don’t want to stay here without
you.”
 
She felt the tidal wave
rising in her bowels.
 
I will not cry, I will not cry, I will not
cry.

“I
want
you to stay.
 
I
want you to finish.
 
Make me proud,”
Drew said.

“I can’t, I can’t…”

“Stop that right now, you hear?”
 
He cut her off.
  
“Besides, you have other friends,
Jan.”

“No one like you!”

“Well, that’s true, but still, you
have friends here who need you and who will take care of you.”

She felt Jenkins’ hand on her
shoulder.
  
“C’mon Jan.
 
It’s time to go.”
 

“Take care of her, Jenk,” Drew said,
“and let her bitch at you every so often.”

Jan slunk toward the door.
 
She heard Jenkins mumble something to
Drew.
  
It sounded a little
like “she already does.”

As soon as they exited the building,
Jan took off running.
  
She ran
along the Apron fronting The Plain, past George Washington on his high horse
and past MacArthur on his pedestal.
 
The tears would not wait until she was safely under her Gray Girl this
time.
 
Like Clark Kent in a
desperate search for a phone booth, she ran faster and faster.
 
She had to find a spot, anywhere, to
hide and transform from one person into another.
  
She kept running away from the
barracks toward the road leading up to the Cadet Chapel.
  
She ran so fast, the tears didn’t
fall down her cheeks.
 
Instead they
traced a line from the outside corners of her eyes to her ears, dropping inside
her eardrums.
 
It seemed more like
her ears were crying.
 
She thought
how funny it would be if people cried from their ears instead of their
eyes.
 
She thought about all those
nights in Beast when she cried herself to sleep.
 
Lying face up, her tears fell in her
ears then too.
 

This isn't really crying.
 
Since the tears go from one orifice to
another.
 
Since they never fall down
my cheeks.
 
Since they never land on
my chest, or my lap, or my arms. Since they start inside and finish inside
....they
really don't count.
 
And I've never really cried at all.
 

Dear
SKIP,

Drew
Hambin, my best friend, resigned today.
 
His teammates accused him of being a homosexual.
 
I do not believe it—but even if it
is true—it still does not alter my opinion of him.
 
He is a good, kind and intelligent
person. He was a good cadet and he would have been a great officer.
 
They labeled him guilty before he could
even speak for himself.
 
We may have
overcome some prejudices, but mankind will always carry resentment for a
different kind.
 
I'm not saying Drew
is a homosexual—I’m saying that even if he is—why should that stop
him from being a good Army officer?

Drew's
resignation shook my belief in this place even more.
 
If his teammates lied,
then that shoots the honor system all to hell.
 
And as to my belief in a good and caring
God…well, this situation didn’t help that either.

Jan

Dear
Jan,

I
am very sorry to hear about Drew.
 
I
know you must be quite upset.
 
Yet,
I’m sure Drew would want you to hang on and finish what you’ve started.
 
He would want you to succeed.
 

We
are very close now to finishing this year.
 
It’s right around the corner.
 
I suppose if you have not guessed my identity by recognition day, I will
reveal myself to you.
 
I sort of
prefer to stay in hiding, but I know it’s not fair to you to keep you
guessing.
 
Still, I hope you will
not treat me differently once you know who I am.

Keep
your head up.
 
Despite this setback,
you still have a lot to be happy about.
 

SKIP

Deep down, Jan believed Drew might be
gay.
 
Although,
she also wondered if the charges were trumped-up out of jealousy.
 
Drew’s good looks, athletic prowess, and
total ease around women might have been threatening to guys who wanted to have
even one of those qualities.
 
She
just could not believe he would try to molest his teammates.
 
He’s
just not that incredibly stupid.

Anyone who made sexual advances on
someone else in an inappropriate way ought to be “resigned,” she accepted that
much.
 
If that were really enforced, then there might be more cadets in transient
barracks than in all of Old South.

Although Jan didn’t know Jenkins very
well, he seemed almost as upset about Drew’s departure as she was.
 
She stopped by his room on occasions to
commiserate with him and because she just wanted to make a new friend if
possible.

Claude Jenkins was an average
guy.
 
His height, weight and looks
were average—not great, not bad either.
 
He seemed to be about average in
academics and athletics.
 
That made
him just about the ideal friend, she figured.
  
Just like me, Jan, the middle
child, the average girl.
 
Jan, not Jane nor January nor Janiqua.
 
Just Jan.