Life as an American Female Soldier

What does the rest of America know about the war? Not much. These days, even I barely follow the news from Iraq. The headlines are always negative: "Thirty-seven soldiers killed today." And you're like, "I hope it isn't another one of my friends."

CAPTAIN JENNIFER ERRINGTON, 30 COLUMBIA, MD

I spent nearly a year in Iraq. How do you go back to normal life after something like that? You can't just turn it on and off. Home looks the same, but I'm not. I'm harsher; I'll get in these moods where I go from happy-go-lucky to "get away from me." I have nightmares. I can't stand it when a balloon pops. I'm less trusting.

My husband works part-time at Wal-Mart, and I'm not working at all. After everything I've been through, I can't concentrate. I was diagnosed with post-traumatic stress disorder last fall. I'm not looking to the future anymore. I look at every day and how I'm going to get through it.

SPECIALIST ASHLEY PULLEN, 23 EDMONTON, KY

Life as an American Female Soldier
Hair falling out, periods on hold, and peeing in a cup: for female soldiers, life on the front lines involves stuff men never have to think about.
By Tara McKelvey

SERGEANT STEPHANIE JAMES, 23
URBANA, IL

"THERE WERE SO MANY THINGS I COULDN'T CONTROL. LOSING CLUMPS OF HAIR WAS JUST ONE MORE THING."

I signed up for the army in June 2001, when I was 17. They were offering to pay for some of my college education. I wasn't concerned about the possibility of going to war; I just kept thinking, This is going to be cool.

Two years later, I was a sophomore at the University of Illinois in Urbana, and I got a phone call from my platoon sergeant, who said, "Your unit has been put on alert." That evening, I went to see The Vagina Monologues at a local theater with friends from my dorm. I didn't say anything about the phone call. On November 11, Veterans Day, I was told I was being deployed. I quit my part-time job at David's Bridal shop and boxed up the clothes in my dorm.

In February, I went to a base in Kuwait, where you had to wait in long lines no matter where you were: in the mess hall, bathroom, shower. You were never alone. At night, I put on headphones and played Norah Jones to block it all out.

One of the most important things I brought from home was a photograph of me and my mom. I'm 1 or 2 years old in the picture, and I'm wearing overalls and a red shirt. My mom is holding me, and she's wearing a beaded necklace. When I was feeling homesick, I'd look at the picture. I also had a bright-orange University of Illinois T-shirt that I slept in at night. As soon as I got to Kuwait, I regretted not packing my flatiron. My hair gets so frizzy when it's hot outside — and over there, it was always hot. I finally had my mom mail me one.

In the military, they try to make things equal. Mainly, that means women are supposed to look like men. You can't wear earrings. Makeup can't be excessive. I didn't wear any, but I always carried ChapStick. Once, a friend sent me nail polish. She wrote, "There probably aren't many times you can feel like a girl. If you have some downtime, have a pedicure party." During off-hours, we watched TV. I got everyone hooked on Sex and the City.

I met another soldier, Sergeant [Ivory L.] Phipps from Chicago. He was in his 40s and had been in Desert Storm. He always had the Bible with him, reading Psalms. I felt calm when he was around.

On the evening of March 16, 2004, I arrived at a base near Baghdad. The next day, my friends and I were standing next to the laundry building at lunchtime. We had only been in Iraq about 18 hours. I saw Sergeant Phipps nearby. Then I heard the explosion. When a mortar goes off, first you hear a thunk and a second later — boom. It's basically just a shell filled with pieces of metal and random stuff. The shrapnel blows up and out, so you have to get down out of trajectory range.

Our squad leader yelled, "Get down!" and he grabbed me. I blacked out. Next thing I remember, I was sitting in the bunker. My heart was beating so fast. I could hear people outside yelling for help.

Afterward, I saw my squad leader carrying Sergeant Phipps's duty cap in his hand. It was covered in blood. I was like, "Oh, my God." Phipps passed on. In my time in Iraq, my squad lost five people.
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Life as an American Female Soldier