Writing a story about the Army proved to be a fascinating task. I live in California near Marine Corps Camp Pendleton where I have many Marine friends. I soon learned it wasn’t just rivalry that separates these two military branches.  The vernacular is different and I had to learn its idiosyncrasies fast. In spite of all the Army research I gained through books, interviews and Internet searches, I finally realized I had to go where the Soldiers were.

First up: Fort Irwin in the California desert, the home of the National Training Center where armed forces live in cultural scenarios similar to the countries where they will be fighting. Opened during the Cold War, this bastion of military training has served the US and some foreign armies ever since. In 2007, the focus was on Iraq. With warnings to dress in dust-colored clothing and wear comfortable shoes, a Public Affairs officer drove me to Medina Wasl one of the Iraqi “villages” at the Center where training occurs. With Specialist John Davis portraying an Iraqi police officer as my guide, within an hour I became part of the village role-playing. For a writer this opportunity to be in the story turned out to be one of the most exciting experiences of my life. Soon I learned to watch for trip wires, suspicious behavior, caches of weapons and buried IEDs. I ate field chow and slept on a cot in makeshift quarters with the female role players who depicted Iraqi villagers. Most important though, I talked to the Soldiers and listened to their stories of frightening deployments, boredom, loneliness and pride in jobs well done.  I left Ft. Irwin full of information and enthusiasm, driving home to the comfort of my family, thinking for those brave young soldiers facing deployment an entirely different fate awaited.

Next up: The 1st Battalion, 3rd Regiment, The Old Guard, at Fort Myer, Virginia and Walter Reed Medical Center in DC. On perhaps the hottest and most humid day possible, a Public Affairs Sergeant guided me through Fort Myer from the lobby of Charlie Company and the barracks, to the stables and the kennels and finally to the Sentinel platoon’s private quarters near the Tomb. I saw Soldiers drilling and talked to instructors. I watched Soldiers press their uniforms. I stood in awe, my heart thumping, as The Old Guard Sentinels solemnly walked their guard duty at the Tomb. I learned that paying homage to their fallen brothers and sisters at Arlington Cemetery is more than duty for these Soldiers, it is their finest tribute. 

The next morning, I headed to the Walter Reed Medical Center where another dedicated Public Affairs officer took me under her wing. She walked me everywhere I needed to be for the story’s setting to be correct.  The story is fiction, but the observations I made there became part of the novel. Their Military Advanced Training Center-the MATC-an enormous gym? I was there. The prosthetic lab? There, too. Ward 57, home to the amputees? Yes.  I talked to tired-eyed doctors, ferocious physical therapists and a compassionate chaplain. I steeled myself for the interviews with young men recovering from wounds and the loss of limbs resulting from devastating IED damage, but came away rewarded by stories of  hopefulness, courage and cheer.  I will never forget those dedicated people.

Finally: I needed Soldiers to act as fact checkers as the research progressed. Gary Trudeau’s book The Sandbox turned me onto military bloggers; mil blogs. I looked for good writing and found two gems: a California Army National Guard Sergeant who’d just returned home from Iraq and a recently retired Chief Warrant Officer working as a contractor in Iraq teaching their airmen to fly. Lastly, I needed a contact at The Old Guard to vet the details of their close-knit group. The Public Affairs Sergeant assigned as my tour guide there, a fine writer herself, became that person.  Since I sent my protagonist into peril, Soldiers who’d served as Army Rangers added colorful anecdotes; a Navy corpsman and civilian therapy personnel helped with medical details; other Soldiers contributed vocabulary slang; and a Marine officer assisted with training scenarios.  Google and YouTube provided photos of clothing, settings, weaponry, vehicles and the sounds of battle.

So indeed I did ignore the writer’s challenge to “write what you know” and instead wrote what they know.

<script type="text/javascript">