Whenever I speak to someone of my life on an Army Post, expecially to a young woman, I always get the same, "Lucky Girl, What was it like?"

Hmmm. What was IT Like? It was normal to me. It was comfortable. Of course, I was not dumped on an Army base at the age of 16 and told to, "Go have fun!" It was "normal" to me. Besides, I knew by that time that any trouble I got into would bring shame to my Dad, so I did my best to repect his position.

By the time I was 14, mom threatened to hang a sign around my neck that said, "I'm only 14!" I looked much older, and dad had long since restricted my wearing tube or halter tops out in public, as a walk to the Shoppette became an experience—Deuce and a half's full of young G.I.'s driving by shouting cat calls and wolf whistles.

When mom would go with me, she would yell after them, "She's only 14!" I don't know why she thought it was me they were shouting to—my mom was very pretty and had a nice figure! I wasn't even really into the male sex at that age—so it more scared me than anything.

Of course a couple of years later it was a completely different story, and also quite embarassing. I was hospitalized with Mono/ParaTonsillar abcess when I was 16, at the Army hospital on post. As I was aware that some of the corpsman were very nice looking young men who were only a couple of years older than I was, it was fun to talk to them, and they would often come and visit me in my room and we would sit and chat.

I would often be awakended for morning vitals with two corpsmen, one standing on either side of my bed singing me, "Good Morning . . . time to wake up Dawn" . . . they made some tune up to go with the words.

One young corpsman wasn't too bright, however, and I told my Dad about it when he came up later that day during his lunch break. I had horribly swollen tonsils, to the point of narrowing my throat making breathing difficult. I was on oxygen, and he walked into the room with a lit cigarette! (Remember the days they allowed smoking in hospitals?)

"Get out of here with that," I rasped at him. "Don't you see the sign on the door? I don't want my face to catch fire!" He looked at the cigarette in his hand and said, "This is okay, there has to be a spark to ignite the oxygen," and holding the cigarette up said, "See, No spark!"

I said "What do you think that thing is burning on the end of it? Now put it out!" He finally stomped it out on the floor, and he never came in with a cigarette again.

Due to the Mono, I had to have a a test of some kind on my liver, which required a change of gowns (I had chosen to wear my own nightgown in the hospital). However, because of the IV in my arm, I needed help changing, and of course they sent one of the cute corpsmen down with me to the radiology department.

Both of us were very uncomfortable and HE was even blushing and trying to help me while turning his head away! He kept saying, "Im a medical professional"—not sure if he was trying to convince me or himself, but we got the job done and was relieved to be out of that situation! (Until after, and I had to change back!) I never told my parents about this encounter, as the corpsman was on his best behavior and I was afraid Dad would make another complaint to the hospital.

I had always thought the Corpsmen were especially nice looking in their crisp, white uniforms, and would sometimes walk by their barracks just to catch a glimpse of one of them, but I never went in. The following year, my mother came down with something, and spent several hours in the Emergency Ward. One young Corpsman was very nice to me, and brought me down to the dining hall to buy me lunch. (My dad was TDY at the time, so it was up to me to bring her to the hospital.)

We spent most of the afternoon together and he asked for my phone number. He only called a couple of times, but during Christmas dinner a month or so later, as we sat down to eat, we thought we heard the screen door open and close. After dinner, dad opened the front door for one reason or the other, and there between the doors sat a small wrapped Christmas present with my name on it. He brought it to me and wanted to know, "Who is it from?"

This Corpsman had bought me a bottle of really nice perfume, and when I called to thank him I asked why he didn't ring the door bell. He had never been to my house before, and had only met my mother when she was a patient . . . he was afraid of my dad. My dad was a MSG (E8) at that time, and higher ranking NCO's scared this PFC.

I began to work at a new McDonalds that opened right off post and was, of course, popular with the GI's. I became friendly with several of them, but never dated any. On those freezing Massachusetts winter nights, after closing, I would bring coffee or hot cocoa to the M.P.'s stationed at the gate on my way through heading back home, so I got to know several MP's, which was a good thing.

I never dated any of them either, but it was good to know a few! I also worked at another popular place with the GI's . . . the Pizza and Sub shop on Post. The MP's would always come in to grab a sandwich when on duty, and afterwork for Pizza and a Pitcher of Beer. I was coming home from work at McDonald's late one night, and was not necessarily following the posted 30mph speed limit.

I saw an MP speed trap so I hit my brakes to slow down. They didn't come after me, however, the next evening while at my job at the Pizza place, a couple MP's came in. "Saw you fly by us last night lead-foot!" I laughed and said something smart. He said I was lucky he knew my car. That was the way I got out of speeding tickets when I was a teen-ager.

The year after dad returned from Korea (1982) dad made SGM (E9). I often went roller skating at the Roller Rink in nearby Leominster, which was the fad in the early 80's. I went every Saturday night, and met many GI's there. I remember one young soldier I met-we really hit it off . . . then I asked him what company he was with. He told me very proudly, "I'm with the Intelligence School—going to school there right now".

I guess he thought I would think he was extra-smart or something, but I said, "Uh-Oh . . . this may not be good." I aked him if he knew SGM Hunter and his face went white—he had just connected our last names. He just shook his head and mumbled over and over, "SGM's daughter . . . SGM's daughter . . . "

Needless to say, we never did begin dating. Too bad—he seemed like a really nice guy, too. I told my dad about it and asked him if he knew the guy. Dad said he thought he knew him and just laughed. (Another victory for Dad!)

Most of the students at the School respected him, but there were a few who didn't, mainly due to the fact that they were in trouble with him. I knew he left our quarters several times in the middle of the night to handle a situation, and he was also the one who showed up at the barracks at 2 AM, turning over cots, dumping foot lockers. He would not stand for any illegal drugs on the premesis. Of course the MP's were always there to make the arrests.

Toward the end of my Senior year of high school I began dating a SP4 from my dad's unit. We went to the same Off-Post Church, and he was a few years older than I was, but he was a very nice guy, so at the tender age of 17, we began to "see" each other.

I guess my dad knew this guys character—they worked together every day and were friends, so my parents didn't mind, which surprised me. We had to be careful though, because during our relationship my dad became Command Sargeant Major of his Battallion.

It was while I was dating him that I was snuck into the barracks a few times. The Desk Sergeant knew who I was, and we would only do this, if we knew we could trust whoever was on duty. When bringing me up one evening he gave the call, "female on floor!"

We heard another voice echo back from down the hall, "CSM's daughter on floor!" We were very nervous doing this because we knew my dad would not be happy I was sneaking into 'his" barracks. We never stayed long, usually just long enough for him to hit the showers while I listened to his stereo, but we didn't want people getting the wrong idea—so door was always left opened.

When he and I split, after I went away to college, there were a few other young men from dad's unit he was trying to fix me up with. I think he wanted me to marry Army and stay in that life.

He always had me up to Bn HQ for one reason or another when I was home. Morning Calisthenics were fun. I would stand up in the front with my dad and lead the routine. His Bn had a softball team, which at the age of 39-40, he was the oldest on the team—all the young guys calld him "Pops".

I wound up being the score keeper for his softball team. which was a lot of fun-they all had to talk to me. During basketball season, I was at the games cheering his unit on—literally. Someone made me a cheerleader with some of the girlfriends and wives of the other players. His unit was Staff and Faculty (S&F). It took us awhile to figure out which direction to hold the S&F signs, depending on which way we entered, or it would read F&S.

Sometimes I felt like I was a tag-a long when he would participate in different things, but dad never treated me that way. He was alway glad to have me along. Even when he knew what I was REALLY doing—Scoping! I guess he figured if I was doing it in front of him, he could keep and eye on me..and expecially anyone who was scoping back!

I could always talk to my dad about everything, and when he was able to be home, he was my rock. Maybe he took me with him because he wanted to spend time with me, which I'm sure had a lot to do with it.

He would just laugh at me when we would be out jogging in a housing area, and suddenly I began running on the other side of the street. "Okay Dawn, who lives here?" he would ask. He knew my real purpose of wanting to go running with him, but I enjoyed the time spent with him too.

He still plays Softball here in Florida in the "Over 60" league. He jokes, "We don't play to win—no one's that good anymore! We just play because we love the game."

He wanted me to come down and keep score for them a couple of years ago like old times.. "No thanks dad. I think I'll pass. Besides I'm married now."

He just looked at me . . . and laughed.