Four Three Two One

Say her name. Say my name. Do you even know our names? Of course you don’t, because there are far too many of us. Women who have signed on the dotted line to serve and defend our nation, to stand up for our citizens. Yet somehow we were not given equal respect, often no one stood with us. We were not given the same opportunities, the standards were different, our worth was less.



US Navy boot camp, a young 18 year old female, we will refer to as One, had gotten through six weeks of barely any sleep. Mental and physical challenges, schooling and being completely isolated from her previous life, her mindset was changing. There were three weeks left until graduation, life was getting little easier. The routine was becoming normal, she felt fit, confident, and excited for the next chapter to come.

One got called in by the Recruit Commander, the Naval equivalent of a drill sergeant. As she stood at attention in his office, he told her he had been impressed with her hard work and leadership skills. He had decided to award her a position on the recruit staff, previously held by another female who had an injury and had to leave. Being acknowledged in this way was quite an honor. In a division of around seventy recruits, there were maybe six such positions, three for males, three for females. One committed to being the best leader she could be and took her job very seriously.

Time continues to pass, the routine is just that. Two weeks pass by and all of the recruits can feel the energy of the home stretch. July in Great Lakes is hot, and during classes some instructors allowed the recruits to remove their uniform over shirts and wear their undershirt with their uniform top because AC was sparse and ineffective, and the classrooms were stifling. During a group project, the recruit leaders were assigned to help out and to oversee the other students. Sometimes having to lean over a desk to help point something out on the papers. It was a tedious class, the air thick with heat and sweat, but thankfully soon over.

Recruit Commander shouted at One from his office. She reported and stood at attention. He informed her that it had been made known that she was flirting with some of the male recruits during the lesson, taking advantage of lack of over shirts and flaunting her breasts in the thin white tee shirt while bending over the male recruits desks. The recruit chief, the highest ranking recruit leader had complained about her. Chief had pointed out a specific male, X that she was overly sexual towards, and stated that X had reciprocated. That male was also one of the six recruit leaders. X’s recruit leadership positions was the male equivalent to One’s. Equal in rank and responsibilities.

She was outraged, but could not show it. Her military bearing mattered. Outbursts of emotion had very negative consequences in this place. As she rigidly stood at attention, with hot tears stinging her eyes and carving a burning path down her stoic face, she attempted to speak and defend herself. These allegations were false. There were over fifty students in the classroom, and also instructors. She had been assigned the duty of help and oversight, which is what she had done. No one felt flirtatious or sexual in this environment, there wasn’t time or energy for that. One couldn’t believe this was happening.

As she stammered attempted explanations to Recruit Commander he boomed at her to shut up. She was being defrocked, demoted. Humiliated. Recruit Commander ripped the pin displaying her leadership rank from her collar. She nearly vomited, anxiety boiling under the surface of her skin and the heat was choking her. X was called into the office. Recruit Commander asked him for his side of the story. He denied all of it and stated that One hadn’t done anything of the sort. He was allowed to leave. With his pin still affixed to his shirt.

Recruit Commander told her that he thought Chief liked her. That he had been jealous of her showing attention to another male. He told her that if she was smart she wouldn’t waste her time on these recruit losers but she should wait until she got to her first assignment outside of bootcamp and fuck with real men.

“ About face recruit, you are dismissed.”


Two arrived at a new duty station on a warm summer day. She was met by her sponsor who was to help her get checked in. There are few better places to be stationed than a lovely seaside town, but she was immediately warned about a few long term sailors who were known as “phase sharks”. They hung around when new female sailors arrived, especially on the hunt for those still eighteen or nineteen, vulnerable and out on their own for the first time. Quick to offer guidance to show them the ropes, gaining their trust…and exploiting it.

Phase sharks were usually a little older, wisened to the ways of the base and the command. Able to purchase alcohol, and willing to share it with naive females. Two was invited to a beach party that weekend. A few of the other females who had arrived to base around the same time she did were going too, so they all stuck together. Safety in numbers.

A bonfire, waves crashing under a moonlit sky. Drinks and music. What an amazing way to kick off her time at a new duty station. Two she was underage, but felt so mature being in the military and far from home, earning what seemed like a huge paycheck to a young woman. The drinks were good and the fun continued well into the night.

It felt like she blinked for a moment, just a microsecond of resting her eyes and she woke up on her back in the cold wet sand. A body was on top of her, inside of her. She didn’t know what was happening, she felt sick, she was freezing and it was so dark. She saw a face, she recognized him, but didn’t remember his name, they had never even spoken. She blacked out again.

Two awoke to harsh sunlight flooding through the window of her barracks room. She was in her bed, confused as to how she got there and still damp and so itchy and uncomfortable from the experience at the beach. A terrible hangover, and the brutal shame of violation.

She stumbled to the shower wondering “How could there be this much sand?” It was in her hair, between her toes and in her armpits, inside her mouth and crunching between her teeth.

In her vagina. She had to scrub it out with her fingers, but even then it lingered for days.

Two saw him often after that weekend, randomly around base. He refused to make eye contact with her. They never spoke.

Three was depressed. She didn’t feel well, her health issues had her at medical command more often than she cared to admit. She felt hopeless and isolated. Scared. Alone. She had taken too many pain pills. Not on purpose, or at least she didn’t think so, it was late, midnight, maybe later. She felt sick, she was shaking. She had made a mistake. She called 911, explained what had happened.

The emergency room gave her charcoal to drink, she had given them the pill containers, there wasn’t enough missing for this to be deadly, just enough for her to feel sick and confused. She hadn’t meant for this to happen… had she?

She called her command. The hospital wanted to keep her for twenty four hours to make sure her mental health was stable. She was released the next day and picked up by a friend, sent home with instructions to rest and follow up with her regular doctors.

Three loud knocks on her apartment door. A male Chief Petty Officer she barely knew stood there. Insisting she come with him to base for a disciplinary hearing for missing work. She showed him the paperwork from the hospital, signed by a medical doctor. However, it wasn’t from a military doctor so it didn’t matter. She told him what happened, she told him how lost and confused she felt. How dark and depressed. She asked for help, guidance on what she should do to start on the path to feeling better. The Navy was supposed to support one another, brothers and sisters in arms.

He told her to come with him to work, to not mention this hospital incident to anyone because there are protocol for this type of occurrence in the military and he didn’t believe her and didn’t have time to deal with all of the mandatory reporting paperwork.

She never felt trust in her leaders again. A plead for help wasn’t worth the paperwork.

Four was brought in front of a disciplinary review board. She had missed too many mandatory work outs. She had tried to make them but the morning sessions began before her children’s daycare opened, and the afternoon sessions ended too late for her to make it in time for pick up. She knew she needed to do better but felt she had no one to turn to. Childcare was limited, and expensive. Her relationship was not in a good place, a marriage headed to divorce. All of her leaders wanted her to just be at her military commitments no excuses or questions asked. But Four is a mother and her children come first. She had no one else to turn to.

They took her rank away, cutting it from her uniform. They chided her for being a terrible shipmate. Told her she wasn’t to be trusted. Docked her measly paycheck, and gave her extra duties which took her away from home even more than before, making an already difficult problem much worse. They delayed her exit from military life because her paperwork wasn’t correct, or finished in time because the disciplinary actions had set her timeline back. She received no compensation for signing on for extra time, no bonus. No help. A person in need of help, shouting into a void.

You see Four is Three, she felt like she couldn’t trust her leaders because when she asked for their help there was none. She was told she was faking and to hide what happened because it wasn’t worth someones time.

Because Three is Two, and no one would look at her in the eyes when she was lost and violated.

Because Two is One and her worth is less than that of her male counterpart.

Because Four is One, they took her rank away in times when she was most desperate and vulnerable. When she needed to be lifted up, not torn down.

And all of them are me. Because this is what can happen to women in the military.

I served for nearly eight years. I travelled, learned another language, served in a job that was critical to our nation during the Post 9-11 war era. I met wonderful people and my heart bursts with pride even today at the service I and so many others gave and I am so honored to be held in esteem with the vast majority of my brothers and sisters in arms. The United States military is bar none. There is no equal, not even close. Few moments in life award a feeling of higher honor and pride than putting on that uniform and feeling part of that team.

But the truth is, there is an underlying culture of toxicity. It runs deep. It is more often than not a male/female problem, but I asked female leaders for help too. And they didn’t help me.

I worked in a military job with a higher female to male ratio than most. And in nearly eight years I have four experiences that make me feel sick inside to this day. Other experiences of this type of culture don’t stick out to me as much, but they are there and they happened too.

They are there for me, and for many, many other female service-members. Women who were harassed, raped, disbelieved, discounted, abused and yes even murdered. Look them up. Their stories are everywhere. Their stories also haven’t been told, because there are too many. Not everyone wants to share. I don’t blame them, they did nothing wrong.

If this makes you uncomfortable then good, maybe the message will stick. Because everyone who failed me, who took advantage of me, who didn’t help me when I needed it, kept on with their successful military careers. I know their names. EVERY. SINGLE. ONE. Their faces are burned into my memory. They forgot me but I won’t forget them.

I swore to support and defend my nation, to stand side by side with fellow service members. But in these instances it did not support and defend me, and I stood alone.


~Jamie Wilson
August 17 2020