The Role of Family in Supporting Soldiers

One of the first field problems that I ever took part in was a Battalion Field Training Exercise. My part in the event was rather insignificant. My unit was transitioning from being a Light Infantry Unit to one that utilized armored vehicles. My first duty position was as the headquarters LAV (Light Armored Vehicle) driver. Our unit had not received any vehicles yet, so I did not have much to do. In fact, since I didn't have a job, I had no reason to go into the field.

All the same, I found myself in the rain, enjoying the outdoors with everyone else. Once we arrived at the site of our encampment, it became clear that this was an misconceived venture. There was no organization at the company level. The individual platoon leaders picked random spots to dig in with no higher directives to ensure that this was a coherent and mutually supportive exercise.

My platoon set up on an easily defended hill with a view of the surrounding area. Later that night it was determined by the Commanding Officer that my platoon should occupy the lowlands at the foot of the hill and leave the hill for the imaginary enemy.

After a while all the vehicle crews were gathered from their respective platoons and moved to the company headquarters, since they had no vehicles and were of no use to their platoons. I found myself doing radio guard at various times throughout the night. This was a simple and comfortable duty since the radio was located in a heated vehicle.

In the morning when I woke up I ate the first of the three Meals Ready to Eat (MREs) that I had brought to the field. I ate my second meal for lunch and the third for dinner. By the morning of the second day I had exhausted my issued food supply and started consuming the Ritz crackers and Easy Cheese that I had smuggled in. [This extra food is known in the Army as Pogy Bait (POGS are personnel other than grunts- non infantry personnel)]

I ran out of cheese and crackers around dinner time on the third day. There were rumors of hot chow coming soon, but they never materialized. I went wondering in the dark to find some food. I had heard from other soldiers that there was a pallet of MREs that had been dropped off somewhere in a clearing near by.

I wondered in the darkness until I found the pallet. As promised it was stacked with boxes full of MREs. I fumbled around, grasped the smooth edge of the plastic wrapper of an MRE and went back to my sleeping bag (or fart sack as they are referred to in the Service).

When I arrived I could hear moaning in the darkness. I could see writhing sleeping bags under ponchos strung up between trees. As I opened my MRE I heard a voice warn me that they were all bad. These prepackaged meals that were made to survive nuclear holocausts had somehow spoiled in while waiting in the warehouse. The Lemon Pound Cake had hair growing on it. The Beef Chow Mein was rancid. Even the laxative gum was hard like the gum you get in baseball cards. I took out a bag of fossilized Skittles and crunched my way to sleep.

In the morning there were more rumors of hot chow. I set off with several friends to find the place where the cooks had set up, but never found it. I pilfered more rancid MREs for M&Ms and Charms hard candies. By this time, order in the camp was starting to break down. The vehicle crews had taken a tarp from one of the existing vehicles and suspended it between some of the old growth trees to stay dry. The commander had ordered us to take it down, but in the absence of everything that should be present in such a situation, like food, we did not feel impelled to eliminate our one source of comfort.

Eventually married men started turning on the cell phones that they had been forbidden from bringing to the field and calling their wives. They started telling stories about rotten food and no hot chow. They started telling their wives that they were on a training mission with no training value. The wives were irate.

The Army is not without checks an balances. Army savvy wives flooded the Inspector General's (IG) office with complaints. They told stories about men vomiting out rancid Beef Noodles and Black Been Burritos. The IG office was made aware of hot chow that never came and field problems with no training value.

By the fourth day we had food, real food, hot food, brought out in insulated containers, served by real Army cooks. Later that day it was announced that the field problem would be ending early. We piled into utility vehicles and those who couldn't fit marched back. We returned to the barracks and cleaned the our weapons made rusty by rain. We ate fresh hot food from the Chow Hall and basked under the warm showers.

All of this took place because of the families of soldiers who were willing to act on their behalf. The value of Army Wives is enormous. When they complain about their soldiers being mistreated their voices are heard. The role of military wives (and husbands) in insuring that their soldiers are well treated. They can make complaints that their soldiers could never make. They can say things to high-ranking officers that soldiers would never dream of, and when they do the there are no consequences.

If a soldier is being mistreated family members should go directly to the commander. They should not make complaints through the Family Readiness Group (FRG) but go straight to the source of the problem. If that doesn't work, they should take their complaint up the chain of command. If that fails they should go to IG. If IG isn't responsive they should write their representatives in Congress. If a soldier is ever disciplined for complaints made by a family member the complaint should go straight to IG.

Family members have a responsibility to their soldier. Only they can ensure that their soldier's rights are not being violated. Nobody else will do this for them.