For Love of Country : Military Policewoman - The Middle East ( now being sold on Amazon)

I was kept busy throughout the day. My room was covered with sand and had to be cleaned. Dirt and sand had accumulated. The bed, pillow, carpets, everything was filled with sand. Was this due to one storm? At five I went to the club as ordered and stayed for thirty minutes. The mess opened as well and that is where I preferred to be. I was starving and had missed lunch. Joanie, my roommate from Edmonton, and I fled the bar to go to the mess. We ate and though we were both exhausted, we went to the PX to buy more cleaning supplies. That night I slept well. Joanie and I met and went to breakfast in the morning. We decided that breakfast was an essential meal. The day consisted of briefings in the morning, and I went to the Detachment in the afternoon. It was an interesting day. I met the Dutch and the U.S. military police and it appeared that they hated each other. Doug was there of course and continued to agree with anyone and everyone. I found that immensely comical because they all differed in opinions. I was very pleased with the Provost Marshal, a Colonel. I found him to be a delightful, keen man with no hesitation in saying exactly what he thought. I took some of my clothes to the cleaners and gave them to an Egyptian. He grinned and touched a design I was wearing on my t-shirt which happened to be on my breast. I was furious. I demanded to speak to someone in authority. The manager came and we spoke in the office away from everyone. I explained what had occurred, and he informed me that the Egyptian would be fired. I found that harsh. I had only wanted him spoken to, a warning. I realized how important these jobs were for them. They were paid well. The manager informed me that the employees all knew how they had to refrain from such behaviour and that it was stressed with zero tolerance. He would have to let the man go. I felt kind of bad for this man. Yet, I could not allow any man to touch me inappropriately. I was surprised that he had done so in front of other soldiers. I never did see him again. Again the remaining part of the day was spent cleaning and washing clothes by hand. I fell asleep exhausted and awakened early morning. I wrote a brief note to my mother advising her that I had arrived. I was walking towards a group of people lounging outside. I sat with them to smoke a cigarette. One of the Canadian soldiers scoffed as I sat down and told me that I should put some clothes on. I turned on him. I was wearing shorts. “Don’t you ever talk to me like that again!” I raised my voice. I was angry. “I will wear what I want, when I want and how I want in my own time. Get it???? You are here, what, one week? Seeing a woman is too much for you? Get over it! You are not that affected by these women dressed from head to foot. You are a Canadian and you better remember that!” None of the other men commented, but he knew he was alone. This was his problem. Soon the other men began talking about general things. I was in the conversation. My accuser, displeased that I had told him off in front of everyone, backed down. He remained silent and I never heard a peep from him again during my tour. No one had supported him.” Excerpt From: Silva Redigonda. “For love of country : military policewoman. www.silvaredigonda.ca and Amazon