Infanteering is a young man's game. Same for the ladies. With the massive loads they sometimes have to carry, in later years, say 40s' the bones begin to ache and protest ! Mine do but of course I am very young still !
As a woman, who was in the military and spent twenty years, after getting out of the Army, working in commercial roofing and sheet metal, all man’s work, I thought that I might chime in. When I arrived at my permanent duty company, the first question the CO asked me was, ‘Do you want’ and I quote,
'women's work' or to go do your job?’ Which was Multi-channel Communications. I replied that I had not just spent nearly a year training to be a soldier so I could wear a skirt and pumps and ride a desk. So, off I marched, to my supposed doom, with the CO’s blessing. It obviously isn’t the Infantry, but it was very labor intensive and my section Sgt. loved to train, so we were always out working on something. I was only 5’-5†and maybe ninety-five pounds soaking wet, by far the smallest one in my company and only one of eight women, the rest pushed paper.
After I got out, I took up Welding, but had to stop the training when I was pregnant with my first child. Once I was ready to go back to work, because of my welding training, I hired onto the commercial roofing company. By then I was around 120 pounds. I spent the days working with material and equipment that weighed as much as I did, up ladders, across roofs, into and out of trucks ect. Plus, you have your safety harness, rope and about fifty-five pounds of tools and you are kneeling, squatting, bent over and crawling around all day. Humping eighty pounds of gear up a five story ship’s ladder is a pain in the a**. We typical did twelve to fifteen hour days, seven days a week. It was brutal, hot, filthy, dangerous work, but it paid very well, and I foolishly did it. We had an attrition rate of two out of ten hires staying on, and most quit before lunch. To be fair we were a** h****. We knew what we were capable of and expected it of everyone. If you didn’t pull your weight, we ran you off. They bid work expecting us to do three times the squares per day of tearing off and putting the roofs back than any other company. It was how we made money.
Now, for Chas’ point. We, woman, aren’t designed for that kind of physical punishment. I congratulate and respect her for making it through. I do hope she has thought about the long term effect of it on her body, though. My doc, asked me if all the guys I worked with were breaking down. I said ‘Yea, of course, we are all fifty or so years old.’ She just chuckled and said, ‘Well dear, what the hell did you expect to happen to your tiny frame?’ All of my joints are a mess. Tendon, ligament, cartilage, arthritis ect…issues. Far more damage than is normal for someone, especially a woman, my age. My only finger not smashed, broken or slashed is my right pinky finger. Just because you can do a thing, doesn’t necessarily mean you should. So, I have a wrecked body, and not much to show for it.
Another worry that I have is how shunting women into some of these more dangerous jobs impacts the unit’s dynamic. Even for me, with the guys knowing my capabilities and trusting me to have their backs, there was still an imbalance. It could be distracting. I think, and we all discussed this stuff now and again, they felt like if I got hurt doing something dangerous and they didn’t ask if I needed help, they’d be blamed. Same thing in the Army, especially when we trained strangers who did not know me. It adds a distraction to the group. More worrisome, I had several incidences of men showing off on my behalf and endangering people. Men, I think, to a degree, have a built in sense of protectiveness toward women, and that even when they know it is not necessary they have a difficult time keeping it at bay. So, agin even if you can do the job, doesn’t mean that you being there is what’s best for the unit’s cohesion and functionality.
Anyway, I apologize for rambling. I will close with this. When I was in Basic Training, I was made the platoon leader. My lead drill Sgt., who liked to chatter away at me, took me aside one day and after waving the big, black, oak staff, that he carried, around along the line of privates, shook his head dejectedly and said,
“Private, promise me this. That if you ever get sent into combat with a woman, that the very first thing you’ll do is shoot her, take her weapons, her ammo and her food. Promise me, Private.â€
Go figure. 🤔