The Sinai Desert - For Love of Country Military Policewoman www.silvaredigonda.ca

I and the other Military Police person, Doug, were briefed at 11: 00. There were also two other people who had different jobs there listening to the briefing. This was unusual and it did nothing to lift my spirits. The MWO also insisted having either Doug or myself in charge. Doug immediately spoke up that he should be in charge. Doug said he had a way with words, more specifically he said he had a mouth. To avoid an argument, and not create animosity in such a short time, I refrained from further conversation. I had made it quite clear that I was not happy with what was planned. I had expected to work at the Police detachment, but the MWO stated that he preferred us to remain with the unit, but there was not enough work to occupy us. He indicated that working as a bartender would be part of our duties, as well as keeping the bar clean. I informed the MWO that we could not be bartenders as it was a conflict of interest. How can we arrest impaired drivers if we serve them alcoholic beverages? I began quoting orders which listed what was not permitted quite clearly. I imagined my six months as a gopher for the unit and felt my spirits, charm and happiness or what was left of any positivism rapidly diminishing. Our Canadian Officers also had the same demeaning duties. The MWO pointed to the man behind the bar and said he was an Officer. I immediately regretted my hostility towards the guy. He was being humiliated enough. If I didn’t like the prospect of cleaning the bar as part of my routine, I could just imagine how the Officer felt. Doug cordially agreed with everything the MWO wanted, and of course I disagreed. Doug could think he was in charge, but not of me. He could report to the MWO all he wanted. I had worked with people outside the military police only once before, at the Olympics. I learned quickly at that time that it gave some the opportunity to get even. I was worried that it would happen again. It did not bother me to work with this unit. What did bother me was the concept of working at the Detachment and being sent back to the unit to sweep and clean for a couple of hours. I saw a bleak prospect for my time here. The MWO continued that if we were not treated fairly we were to return to the unit. I assured him that would not happen. We were told that at 5pm we were to return to the club for a meet and greet. With no sleep possible, hungry, and my first day of menstruation, I was not happy. I went to my room and changed. Being aware of too many men around me, I wore jeans and a t-shirt. Others, less bashful or conscious of pale white legs wore shorts. Some of the men even wore bikini sunbathing attire. For a brief moment it seemed as if we were at a resort. Not much later, I was sipping on a free Coke, compliments of the Commanding Officer. I was gazing outside the window from the club when I saw the wind begin to drift the sand. It became worse and I saw my first sandstorm. “Just like in the movies!” one man at the bar exclaimed. I continued to watch the storm and saw birds being forced to fly in reverse. I wondered how they survived. I was amazed. It then suddenly started to rain. I learned that the forecast had called for coming winds. There had been no warning for this storm. I realized that this would be one of the many dangers our pilots would face. My enthusiasm about the storm was not shared among my colleagues. Perhaps they were too exhausted. People who had been outside began running into the club, soaked and sandy. Excerpt From: Silva Redigonda. “For love of country : military policewoman.