R/
SSgt Cristal [former Fourth Battalion drill instructor]
As I prepared to take command of Fourth Battalion, the boot camp for brand-new female recruits, I told myself I would have to stop cussing so damned much.
I would have to reconstruct my “resting bitch face” into a countenance brimming with sunshine and light.
I would work to encourage a culture of compassionate listening, and I would try not to yell.
It was, after all, the Marine Corps.
I was excited to take over—proud that I had been hand-selected, and eager for a new challenge. In every position I had ever held, I did my best to leave it a better place. I aimed for efficiency and to improve the Marine Corps overall, but I also worked hard to improve the quality of life for Marines under my watch. After years of deployments, the last thing I wanted was a Marine feeling stressed out over recruiting duty or a drill-instructor tour.
This job—commanding officer of Fourth Recruit Training Battalion—seemed perfect for me. I hoped to take the lessons I had learned as a Marine—but also as a female Marine—and build up a group of women who understood just how capable they were. I wanted to prepare them to succeed in a Marine Corps that might not always be supportive or understanding of their goals; and I wanted them to come out with a strong vision of themselves and their abilities. I wanted it for my drill instructors. I wanted it for my officers. And I wanted it for my recruits. The Marine Corps had treated me well, and I knew that strong, capable women could only help the service.
I found the Marine Corps accidentally after a Navy recruiter rejected me for my math SAT scores, but I was attracted to the Corps from the beginning because I felt that it was a place for me to make my mark. From the start, I knew the Marine Corps was the smallest, most elite branch of the military, with the fewest women and the highest standards. I had always had high expectations for myself, so this resonated with me in a way no other profession or organization had. Plus, without the Marine Corps, I would never have met my husband, Joe. He has saved my life on more than one occasion, including on Parris Island. Over the years, my feelings of affection and loyalty to the Corps increased because it was the one place where I felt I could make a difference.
It was where I wanted to believe I belonged.
Ultimately, I loved how much I learned with every new mission, and I expected to learn just as much on this tour of duty. I had already established some goals for myself, and some of them were direct results of being a woman. Although some of my challenges may have been enhanced by my wholehearted Marine-ness, I don't think they are far off from what women who haven't served in the military also face. (Before any non-military readers get too far, I suggest you take a look at “Marine-Speak 101,” at the back of the book, for an understanding of how Parris Island is structured, and a basic primer on “Marine-Speak.”)
In my previous command, I had pushed to make good changes for Marines—to make sure they had more time off and less stressful jobs. I wanted to see fewer divorces, fewer drunk-driving cases, and fewer suicide attempts. But to do that, I shoved my curvier peg into the Marines’ extraordinarily square hole. I cursed. I yelled. I was extremely strict. Even though we were able to reach our goals and life got better, a lot of the Marines didn't like me much. I constantly fought not to be “other,” by acting the way the male Marines acted; but because I was the only female commanding officer, I was never part of the group. And the things I did to fit in? The yelling and cursing? They only made me stick out worse. Even in the Marine Corps, those are not the traits expected of a woman—unless that woman is “mean” or “a bitch.” Worse, none of those attributes matched my personal leadership style.
So, as I took charge of women's boot camp for the Marine Corps, overseeing some of the world's fiercest drill instructors, I decided to be true to myself.
I thought, “How awesome would it be to leave a command at the end of my tour as commanding officer and not have any regrets like, ‘Maybe I shouldn't have said this?’ or ‘Maybe I shouldn't have yelled about that?’”
I had served eighteen years in the military, including stints at Marine Corps Air Ground Combat Center on Twentynine Palms in California and a tour in Iraq, but I had never planned to stay in more than twenty years. My husband, Joe, and I had an agreement that we would launch second careers, and that agreement had allowed me to push hard to Marine Corps standards without worrying about the politics that career service members play to so they can make rank. But even with the yelling, I had always received excellent reviews. I was seen as a straight-shooting go-getter who could get things done.
I went to Parris Island thinking, “This is my redemption tour. I'm going to retire after twenty years in the Marine Corps, and this tour is going to allow me to feel good about leaving the service.”
We all see how that worked out.
To say it was a tumultuous year would be like calling the Titanic disaster a “bad day at sea.” But despite the significant obstacles I faced, I never lost sight of the feelings of absolute pride I felt in my Marines at Fourth Battalion as they proved women recruits could, in fact and obviously, perform better if they were simply expected to shoot well and
