Women Who Inspire: Interview with Kristin (Reynolds) Goodrich

For those of you new to my blog, I periodically post interviews with my Naval Academy classmates under the heading, Women Who Inspire. My novels feature a strong female protagonist, so I like to offer examples of the real deal.

Kristin Goodrich is like so many of my other interviewees--women who are exceedingly modest, who've done amazing things, and yet, wonder why I'm asking them for an interview, insisting their experiences were nothing out of the ordinary. Typical . . .

Kristin (Reynolds) Goodrich graduated with a Bachelor of Science in History and a minor in Spanish from the U. S. Naval Academy. She reported to Naval Station Panama Canal  to serve in a Public Affairs Officer’s billet, which included supporting Operation Just Cause. Following her tour in Panama, she reported to Fleet Activities Okinawa, Japan, where she served as training officer, and then port services officer/officer in charge of White Beach. Her final tour brought her back to the U. S. Naval Academy to work in the Admissions Department.  Kristin has served as a Blue and Gold Officer  for the last twenty-one years. She currently lives in Colorado with her husband (a retired Air Force lieutenant colonel) and three children.

AW: You have a fascinating story that starts well before you arrived at the Naval Academy. Tell me about growing up and where you lived.

KG: My parents met and married in Japan. My dad was an international insurance broker and my mom had moved there as an adult dependent to her dad who worked for Westinghouse. I like to joke that I was “made in Japan,” however, I was born in Sao Paulo, Brazil. We lived there for two years before returning to Japan for eight years, where we stayed until I was in fourth grade. After Japan, I spent a year and a half in New Jersey, then moved to Bogota, Colombia for four years, where I learned to speak fluent Spanish, and then returned to New Jersey in tenth grade. I also spent a summer in high school as an exchange student in Sweden.

AW: What an interesting upbringing! So why the Naval Academy?

KG: That’s a good question! [laughs] I think I was visiting with my high school guidance counselor, when the Blue and Gold Officer walked in. At the time—this was tenth grade—I was really struggling with fitting in. I was an American, but I’d never really lived in the States, so I didn’t know the culture, the TV shows, the music. Anyhow, I didn’t think I’d get in.

AW: Once there, it looks like you continued with language. Probably no surprise, huh?

KG: Yes, I majored in history and minored in Spanish. But I finished all the requirements for Spanish after our second year, so then I moved to French.

AW: And then you studied in France after graduation, right?

KG: I did. I applied through the Cox Fund, which supports language study abroad. They treated it like temporary duty en route to my first duty station. I was in a university class with about twenty students—all from different countries—and we would practice speaking the language, talking about non-traditional things, like women’s rights, things like that. It was a fantastic experience.

AW: Tell me about Panama. Did you pick to go there specifically or was it a luck-of-the-draw assignment?

KG: I chose Panama specifically. On service selection night, I selected General Unrestricted Line, and they had these index cards with every assignment that was available within that specialty. I wanted to go back to a place where I had grown up, to see it as an adult, and also have an opportunity to use my Spanish. Panama borders Colombia, so it was as close as I could get.

AW: When you arrived, Panama was in a state of unrest, to put it mildly. What was happening there at the time?

Operation Just Cause - Panama

KG: General Manuel Noriega was becoming a dictator. He had lost the general election in the spring, but refused to honor the results. His Panamanian Defense Force [PDF] assaulted the winning presidential candidate. It was just getting tense outside the gates—Noriega thumbing his nose at America, basically.

AW: Is that when Operation Just Cause happened?

KG: Actually, no. I arrived in Panama in August of ’89, and spent the next two months just getting settled, learning my duties as a junior officer, qualifying for watch officer for the naval station, things like that. Then, in early October, I had to leave to go back to the states to attend a ten-week course on becoming a public affairs officer [PAO]. The day after I left Panama to attend the course, there was an unsuccessful coup attempt, which tried to remove Noriega from office. And then things began to escalate between U. S. Forces and the PDF.

AW: Were you in touch with the naval station when you were gone? Who was handling your PAO duties while you were in school? If things were escalating, it seems that would be pretty important.

KG: I managed the office remotely, as I was going through school, so I was able to keep up with things. Which actually leads me to a funny story. I knew through my contact with the command in Panama that our PMLs [Personal Movement Limitations] had changed and we now had to wear cammies, not khakis or whites. Back then, the navy didn’t have cammies as part of the sea bag, so I went to the Navy Annex [since demolished - 2013] to buy some, but they were out of green shirts. So I shared my dilemma with a navy commander at the Navy Annex. He made a call, then told me to follow him. We marched over to the Office of the Sergeant Major of the Marine Corps! [The Sergeant Major of the Marine Corps is selected by the Commandant of the Marine Corps to serve as his adviser, and as the preeminent and highest ranking enlisted Marine, he is treated with a protocol equivalency of a three-star general officer].

AW: The Sergeant Major of the Marine Corps?

KG: Yes! So we walk into his office, and the navy commander I’m with says, “Sergeant Major, the ensign is going back to Panama this weekend and needs a green t-shirt.” The Sergeant Major then turns to one of his desk clerks and says, “Marine, take off your shirt!” And he took it off. Like right there! And I thanked him and everything and now I’m holding this damp, warm, green t-shirt.

AW: The guy is just standing there shirtless?

KG: Yeah. It was crazy. But I’m not going to argue with the Sergeant Major of the Marine Corps!

AW: Smart move.

KG: And, to make a long story short, I also ended up getting five green t-shirts from our classmate Julia Meade, so it all worked out. [Julia just retired from active duty with the rank of colonel. You can read her interview here.]

AW: Okay, you have your cammies. Then what?

Flying over Colon, Panama

KG: I graduated from PAO School on December 14th. The next day, the Panamanian General Assembly, which was controlled by Noriega, declared that Panama was at war with the United States. Two days later I flew back—arrived on a Sunday—and then on Wednesday, I was standing watch as the duty officer for the naval station. I awoke to the sound of helicopters and learned that Operation Just Cause was underway.

AW: Uh, no pressure . . . 

KG: No kidding. The Senior Watch Officer told me, “Well, Kristin, if you can handle this, you can handle anything,” and he walked away. I remember thinking, “What if I can’t handle this?”

AW: I’d say! What then?

KG: Well, I just did what I was trained to do. I managed the duties of the watch officer, and eventually, a Marine Corps Chief Warrant Officer PAO showed up. His name was Charlie Rowe and he was a godsend. He’d been in Beirut when the Marine barracks were bombed and he was also in Grenada. I was so grateful for his guidance.

AW: How long was the conflict—Operation Just Cause—and what did you do during this time?

KG: It lasted for about six weeks, and I’d have to say, that even though I’d just graduated from PAO training, nearly all of it went out the window. The idea of having embedded journalists had sort of been shelved after World War II. And, as you know, there had been an adversarial relationship between the military and journalists since Vietnam. So when Operation Just Cause happened, we did something completely different than had been done in recent years, which was to take members of the media out to where the action was happening, or as close as we could. I drove a white van with “U. S. Navy” stenciled on both sides—not exactly camouflage!—and Charlie rode shotgun with his pistol out, and then we had a Marine that hung out the side door with a machine gun. We would pull into the Southern Command media center and tell the media guys what we were going to do for the day, and then we would leave once the van was full.

AW: Were you actually close to where people were firing? And what did the journalists think?

KG: Yes, we were pretty close. Once, we were right there when a Marine fired a LAW [Light Anti-tank Weapon] rocket launcher, and it knocked the hubcaps and the rear-view mirror from the van, which was parked two blocks away!

AW: Whoa! So were there many women stationed at Naval Station Panama Canal?

(L-R) Deni (Leadham) Johnson '90, Laura (Bush) Barsland '89,
Kristin, Lynn (Jones) Johnson '89

KG: I had two roommates—both lieutenants—and there were about five enlisted women. I think the naval station maybe had two hundred personnel total.

AW: Did you ever have any trouble because you were a woman, either in Panama, or elsewhere?

KG: I think the single most profound event that was negative for me happened on First Class Cruise [At that time, Naval Academy midshipman were assigned to ships during the summers that preceded their second and fourth years].  I was sent to an AFS—a Fast Combat Stores ship—with a crew of over 400, and this class of ship had just opened up to women. I was supposed to have had a roommate, but ended up being the only woman on board. There were two other midshipmen with me, one from the Academy and one NROTC, and we were called in to meet with the Executive Officer. He told me that we was going to put me in engineering because it was the worst place for a female and that I would set the tone for the women that would follow me. And I thought, “Oh, boy.” And then, when we were walking out of his office, he said to our backs, “And by the way, I’m a ’79 grad.”

AW: For our readers, the class of ’79 at the Academy was the last group to graduate without any women in their class.
  
KG: Yeah, so that did not bode well. And then that day, I sat alone in the wardroom, and no one would talk to me, which really wasn’t a shock, because no one’s going to win by befriending me. The next day, I woke up and someone had bored holes in my stateroom bulkhead at eye level.

AW: So this is not starting well.

KG: No, not really. Then I was told I was going to be the division officer for “B” Division—the guys in charge of the boilers—because their normal division officer had to go to alcohol rehab. So I go down to the engineering officer’s spaces, and there are Playboy pin-ups everywhere, and I go meet with the chief. And that was an . . . uncomfortable exchange. Finally, I left, and I headed to the boiler room. I knew next to nothing about boilers. And to this day, I’m not sure how I knew to ask the right question—maybe divine intervention?—but I asked those twenty-five guys in “B” Division to teach me what they knew. I carried no arrogance. I didn’t do the ring knocker thing. I just asked them to help me learn. And the coolest thing happened. Those twenty-five guys totally took me under their wing. I had zero support from above, but here were these sailors who stuck up for me and taught me everything. I was surprised when I got back to school for the academic year and my company officer announced at morning quarters that the captain of the ship had designated me as a junior engineering officer  of the watch. The real thing, too. Not a token title.

AW: That is an awesome story. And a great lesson for junior officers.

KG: Absolutely. And really, just a good life lesson, in general. Be humble. If you don’t know, ask. And people will respect you for it.

Women Who Inspire: Interview with Julia (Smith) Meade

My Naval Academy classmates rock! Their stories are wonderfully varied and always impressive. You'll see it again here with Julia Meade, a very recently retired U. S. Marine Corps Colonel.

Colonel Julia Meade, U. S. Army War College graduation

Julia (Smith) Meade graduated with a Bachelor of Science in General Engineering and was commissioned a Second Lieutenant in the U. S. Marine Corps. Her Military Occupational Specialty was Motor Transport, and during her career, Julia deployed to Okinawa, Afghanistan, Saudi Arabia, Kuwait, Korea, Turkey, Spain, Croatia, and the Philippines. She also completed two tours at The Basic School in Quantico, VA, once as an instructor, and again as a lieutenant colonel serving as the operations officer. Julia retired with the rank of colonel (O-6) after 23 years of active duty service and lives with her husband and daughter in a very tiny town in Tennessee.

AW: You have such an amazing story, Julia, but with these interviews, I always have to start with why you went to the Naval Academy.

JM: When I was in fourth grade, my family drove from Connecticut to Florida to go to Walt Disney World. We stopped in Annapolis on the way to spend the night—we needed a reprieve because it was July and we had no air conditioning in the car—and decided to tour around a bit while there. We visited the Naval Academy and I knew it immediately. I said, “Dad, I want to go here.” This was 1975 and women weren’t even allowed to attend yet. But at the time, my dad said he thought it would be great. And then, I applied in high school.

AW: What about the Marine Corps? Did you always know you wanted to be a Marine?

JM: No. But when I was a plebe in 27th company, Gunny [Gunnery Sergeant] Frank’s office was right across the hall. My upperclassmen always sent me there to do pro reports and the more I learned about the Marine Corps, the more I realized, this is it.

AW: There weren’t many of our female classmates who service selected Marine Corps, right?

JM: There were just four of us. Susan Seaman, who’s still in. She’s a colonel now. And Maria Long, who you’ve already interviewed. And Duska Pearson.

AW: And I suspect that played out a lot throughout your career—moving around with just a small number of women.

JM: Yes. I was a motor transportation officer and was primarily stationed on the east coast and in Okinawa. I served mostly in operational billets and was almost always the only female everywhere I went. My two "out of the fleet" billets were both at The Basic School in Quantico, as the only female instructor for the majority of my tour when I was a captain, and as the first non-combat arms—and female—operations officer when I was a lieutenant colonel.

AW: How were you received at your commands as the only female?

JM: For the most part, I never really had any issues. Checking in to any unit was the hardest part. There was always that moment of, “Ooh, wait, you’re a girl.” But after they worked with me, it became a non-issue.

AW: You just retired as a colonel after twenty-three years of active duty service. Did you ever think you would stay in that long?

Julia with husband, Jeff

JM: Actually, I made the decision to leave the service in 1999 to help my dad take care of my mother, who was battling lung cancer. So I moved to New Jersey and taught middle school and then high school math, ran a program for at-risk kids, and coached softball. Unfortunately, my mom didn't make it, but on the good side, I ended up getting married while I was there.

AW: So when did you go back in?

JM: After 9/11 happened, I knew I had to do something more than teach ninth grade Algebra One. Having been born in New York City, I have a lot of family who are first responders or who worked at WTC or right nearby, and the attack on the World Trade Center was very personal to me. So I called the reserves and they said they could definitely use me. By 2002, I was back in the Marine Corps and serving at Camp Lejeune.

AW: Were you in the reserves then or were you active duty?

JM: I was in the reserves for only about three drill weekends, but the unit was just horrible. I ran into a guy at Camp Lejeune, whom I knew when I was on active duty, and he said he needed a motor transport officer, so I went back on active duty.

AW: And then you had your daughter, right?

JM: Yes, I was stationed in Camp Lejeune, and she was born in 2004. She was born fifteen weeks premature, weighing only one pound, three ounces.

AW: One pound, three ounces! 

JM: Yeah. I was diagnosed with preeclampsia and had to have an emergency C-section. They medevaced me to Portsmouth Naval Hospital near Norfolk. My daughter was put on a ventilator and every day it was touch and go. We couldn’t hold her because if the ventilator moved, it might damage her throat. She was in the NICU [Neonatal Intensive Care Unit] for four and a half months. There were twenty-four isolettes in the unit and ours was the smallest baby that lived that summer. It scared the crap out of us. Shook us to the core. It was also very humbling to get emails from Marines who were preparing for Fallujah saying they were praying for us.

AW: I would say so! How did the Marine Corps handle this? You were on active duty, you were deploying . . . 

JM: The Marine Corps really took care of my family and transferred us to Norfolk, when Kelsey was in the NICU. My husband retired and took care of her, so that I could deploy and do the things the Marine Corps needed me to do. Kelsey was on oxygen and monitors until she was a year old. She was developmentally delayed in almost every way, and I had to deploy my first time to Afghanistan when she was only 18 months old. When I left, she was not walking or talking, and when I got back, she was doing both. Deploying is a whole lot harder when you have kids!

AW: Without question. And how is Kelsey doing now?

JM: Great. She’s eleven now and just ran her first 5K. Because she had so many problems with her lungs developing early on, the doctors said she would probably have cerebral palsy, her lungs would be weak, she’d tire easily, and certainly never be able to run something like a marathon. I’m happy to report that she’s training for her second 5K now!

AW: So awesome. Now, I want to go back to The Basic School in Quantico. This is where every Marine Corps officer must go to begin their training. You were there on three different occasions. Once as a student, once as an instructor, when you were a captain, and once as the operations officer, when you were a lieutenant colonel. What changes did you see with regard to women at Quantico?

JM:  Very little of the curriculum has actually changed since we were lieutenants. Everyone learns the basics—to shoot, move, and communicate, and to become a leader of Marines. When I was a student, they segregated the women into a separate platoon, which was awful. When I returned as a captain, they had just begun integrating women into every platoon, which was a huge leap forward, once we worked through some initial challenges. Now you have male lieutenants growing up with female lieutenants and it makes all the difference. And you should see the female lieutenants in the Marine Corps now. They’re Superwomen!

AW: Well, the junior officers now have some great role models like you! Speaking of that, did you ever have a female Marine Corps officer that was senior to you in a command?

JM: No, never.

AW: So you’re making your way through the Marine Corps, charting new waters, so to speak, gaining a lot of people’s respect along the way, and then you’re deploying to places like Afghanistan, Saudi Arabia, Kuwait. How was your time in Saudi Arabia, for example? How were you treated there?

JM: We were in Jubail for Desert Storm and I was a motor transport officer. I had Marines spread out over a 200-square-mile area, so I would drive out to them. I got pulled over a couple of times by the local police.

AW: You mean because you were a woman?

JM: Yeah. I was in a uniform. I carried a weapon. But they would pull me over because they couldn’t understand why I was driving. It was ridiculous. And what I found humorous was that the police that pulled me over had no pistols. They didn’t even wear shoes.

AW: I find it interesting, by the way, that you were a motor transport officer. I mean, through your whole career, you were so operational. Like not moving through the Marine Corps in administrative positions.

JM: Yeah, Motor T was not a glamorous MOS [Military Occupational Specialty]. I spent my whole career there and I only saw one master gunnery sergeant mechanic who was a female. Women just don’t gravitate to that specialty. And for example, I was a motor transport officer for an artillery regiment, which was completely unheard of. Division was just off-limits for females, at that time. But we went to the field all the time, and a lot of hard work earned their respect. The regimental chaplain nicknamed me the “Iron Maiden.” I think that was a compliment!

AW: What about all the women-in-combat-units debate. For example, should women be artillery officers? What do you say to that?

JM:  People are wringing their hands over this. As long as you don’t change the physical standards for the job—they should be gender neutral—then women, and the unit, will be fine. I’m glad they didn’t change the standards for the infantry officer course. If no female makes it through, fine. But eventually, there will be one who’ll make it through, and she’ll be well-qualified and will do fine.

AW: So you’re retired now—just recently, in fact. How did you decide it was time?

JM: In 2014, when my daughter turned ten, we realized I hadn’t lived under the same roof with my family for five of her ten years, so we knew it was time to retire. Since she was born, I had deployed to Afghanistan twice. I had had a one-year tour in Okinawa. And when I was stateside, I was a geo-bachelor and had to commute to see her. We had to move to the Norfolk area so she could be near the hospitals she needed. So when I was stationed in Cherry Point, for example, I wasn’t living with my husband or daughter then, either.

AW: That had to be so ridiculously challenging. I know you mentioned earlier about deploying to Afghanistan when Kelsey was only 18 months old. What did you have to do there?

Julia's second tour in Afghanistan. She was the Plans Chief in
the CJ-35 section, and the military liaison to the Presidential
Protective Service (Former President Karzai's Secret Service). 
This photo was taken on a convoy en route to Jalalabad
from Kabul to get ready for a Presidential visit.

JM: I was in Kabul as the deputy logistics officer (Deputy CJ-4) for Combined Forces Command-Afghanistan (CFC-A). Basically, we were doing the planning for turning over the logistics for the mission to NATO. To ISAF [International Security Assistance Force—the NATO-led security mission in Afghanistan]. But that was the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do. To leave my daughter then.

AW: Must have been a nice homecoming.

JM: It was. I was so afraid she wouldn’t know me when I got home, but my husband was fantastic. We took a family picture before I left and he gave it to her to carry with her every day. He taught her that the woman in the picture was mom, so it was pretty amazing to come back and have her walking and talking and also recognizing me.

AW: How is it now? I’m sure you spend a lot of time together now that you’re retired.

JM: Yes, I get to do all the normal things now that I’ve missed for so long. Girl Scouts, making dinner, packing lunches, homework. It’s great.

AW: Where did you retire and are you working?

JM: We moved to a tiny little town in Tennessee, not a single traffic light. I'm not working right now, as I’m trying to decide what I want to be when I grow up! I’m doing some volunteer work and deciding if I want to go back to school. We bought a small 21-acre farm, so there is plenty to keep me busy in the meantime!

A Woman Working in a Man’s World: 10 Lessons I Learned in the U. S. Navy

USS Flint (AE-32), WESTPAC '94

I spent much of my navy career in the extreme minority—as the only woman in a helicopter squadron, as one of two women on a ship with a crew of five hundred, as one of four women in a battle group numbering seven thousand.

  

I was in a unique situation, sure, but I learned some valuable things about how to integrate into a male dominated work environment, things that have also served me well since—while working in corporate America, as a small business owner, as a parent.

  

Do I have it wired? No, I don’t presume to have this figured out. If you’re a woman stepping into a work environment that happens to be dominated by men, you can thrive with a variety of approaches. But you can hinder your progress in just as many ways. Hopefully, I can help you avoid some of those pitfalls by offering the benefit of my experiences.

So here you go, ten lessons I learned in the U. S. Navy, advice for women in a male dominated work environment.

1. Be competent. Know your job. Do your job. 

2. Be physically active. It shows in how you carry yourself. How you address a division. How you sit in a meeting. Your posture as you lecture in front of hundreds. If you feel strong physically, you’ll harbor a quiet confidence that others will sense. And it goes without saying that not only is physical activity good for your health, but it also jostles a muddy brain, allowing for clearer thinking. By the way, this doesn’t mean you need to become an ultra-marathoner. You can garden, walk, do yoga, swim. It can be anything. Just do something.

3. Be yourself. Be genuine. You can spot a fake façade a mile away. No need for the tough guy act. And don’t try to be “one of the boys.” I’ve seen this backfire far too many times. Please, just don’t.

4. You’re always on duty, even when you’re off duty. Should you let yourself go, doin’ the wild thing, at the company’s annual holiday party? I would beg you not to. A man can get away with it. A woman can’t. It’s not fair, but that’s how it is. Mind your alcohol. Mind your manners.

5. Pick your battles. Be reasonable. Think big picture.

6. Be kind. I think women confuse this with being seen as soft or not tough enough. I disagree. In fact, kindness can be disarming. A smile, a compliment, a question as to the health of a co-worker’s spouse. These are often unexpected, but mostly appreciated and remembered. As long as you can back it up with competency, you’re good.

7. Support the sisterhood. Nothing is so disturbing as a woman stepping over another for her own gain. Come on, girls. We have to have each other’s backs.

8. Mind your tongue. That is, don’t gossip. It erodes trust. It’s catty. It’s rude. You know the rule. If you can’t say something nice . . . 

9. Sleep on it. Avoid the rash decision. A night of sleep will do wonders for clarity in thinking, allowing for an unemotional, objective look at your choices. Having said this, sometimes, an instant decision is required. An engine fails in your aircraft and you have to react now. In cases like this, I refer to point number one. If you’re competent—trained, prepared—you’ll make the correct decision. However, most of the time, you have some breathing room, so use it.

10. Above all else, the Golden Rule. Treat others as you would have them treat you.

Women Who Inspire: Interview with Adrienne (Hegman) Brandicourt

Next up in the Women Who Inspire series, Adrienne Brandicourt! Adrienne is one of my Naval Academy classmates who flies in the stratosphere academically, but at the same time, is as down to earth and sweet as you please. . . .

Adrienne (Hegman) Brandicourt graduated with a Bachelor of Science in Computer Science and a minor in German. She reported to Headquarters US European Command (EUCOM) Data Services Center (J6) in Stuttgart, Germany, where she did computer systems design for the EUCOM Intelligence Support System development branch. Following her service in Germany, she reported to Naval Ocean Processing Facility, in Dam Neck, VA, where she served as SURTASS (Surveillance Towed Array Sensor System) watch officer, legal officer, and admin officer. Adrienne lives with her husband, Harry (also USNA class of 89) in Cincinnati, Ohio. She has four children—Benjamin, Annie, Isabelle, and Elliott.

AW: There are so many things I want to ask you, but I’ll start with the basics. Why the Naval Academy?

AB: My parents took us to Washington, D.C., when I was around twelve or thirteen, and we also visited the Academy on that trip. I absolutely fell in love with it. I liked the water, the sailboats, the YP’s, and the Yard.

AW: What did your parents think about your decision?

AB: My parents were thrilled when I told them I wanted to go the Naval Academy. But many other people thought differently, and I often heard, “You can’t do that.” “Why do you want to do that?” “You’re not an athlete.” At that point in time, many people I knew questioned the role of women in the military. I suppose that pushed me to want to do it even more, but really, it came down to the fact that I just loved the Academy. I had applied to four other schools, but the Academy was my first choice all the way through.

AW: Did you have any idea what you wanted to do in the navy before you got to the Naval Academy?

AB: I thought I wanted to be on a ship. Of course, at eighteen, I didn’t really know what that meant. But I was game for it. I thought it was fantastic to know I was going to go to school for four years and then I’d have a job waiting for me right afterwards.

AW: When did that idea change, do you think? About pursuing surface warfare after graduation?

AB: It changed first class year, when I studied abroad in Germany. I did a semester at the German Military University [Bundeswehr Universität] in Munich, and it was an amazing experience. So on service selection night, there was a billet available for computer systems design, which was my major, and the job was located in Germany. I really wanted to go back, so I took it.

AW: I never knew you studied abroad! What an amazing opportunity! So what was this like? Was the university comparable to the Naval Academy? Do they have service academies like we do? Did you have to do everything in German?

AB: Yes, everything was in German. And the idea of service academies is the same, but it’s executed differently in Germany. They have two military universities—one in Hamburg and one in Munich—and all five branches (army, navy, air force, support and medical) of the Germany military are represented at each place. It was a lot more relaxed than the Naval Academy was. We wore civilian clothes most of the semester. I think they wore uniforms maybe twice a year.

AW: No uniforms? I can’t even imagine! When you had to wear a uniform, what did you wear?

AB: Well, this is an interesting story. We had just one formation while I was there. It included marching to a given location, listening to a speech and marching back. And at the time, there were no women in the German military—

AW: Wait, wait, wait. Come back. There were no women in the German military?

AB: Not at the time, no. But I think, ultimately, this was one of the reasons I was able to study abroad here. No one had ever done it before, but because I was a woman, it worked out. The Germans were trying to figure out how to integrate women into their military, and this would be a temporary, very small, trial project, which wouldn’t attract loads of attention.

AW: So you were the only woman there?

AB: I was—in the classrooms, that is. But we had women all around, because the guys’ girlfriends were able to visit whenever they wanted, and in many cases, lived there with them.

AW: Seriously? Their girlfriends could live with them? That’s quite a bit different from the deal we have over here.

AB: Yeah, no kidding. It was like going to a regular university. It was open. No curfew. The dorms were beautiful and you got a huge room to yourself—

AW: A room to yourself? Seriously? I can’t even. . . .

AB: [Laughs] I know! There were about sixteen rooms to a building and they all centered around a big kitchen and living area. Oh, and there weren’t women’s bathrooms or showers. Everyone shared and it wasn’t a big deal at all.

AW: Wow. So different. How were you treated, then? And how many men attended at the time you were there, do you think?

AB: It was pretty small. I think there was a student population of about 2,500. I got along well with everyone—you have to remember I was grouped in classes with nerdy computer science people—who were all really, really nice. And—you’ll love this—my German computer science buddies all loved to swim! I always thought of you—yes, you—when I was there, because we’d go to the pool in the evenings and swim and swim and swim!

AW: Okay, so that’s excellent. Any other memories that stand out from that time?

AB: One thing that was really cool was that I got to work on a research project called PROMETHEUS, which at the time, was the largest research and development project ever in the field of driverless cars. I worked on it with my research adviser, a professor at the school, named Ernst Dickmanns. At the time, I didn’t realize how lucky I was to be working with him, as he was a pioneer of driverless cars in the 1980s.

AW: Wow. So cool. But before I go off on another tangent, I want to go back to the story you were going to tell me earlier about the uniform and marching to formation.

AB: Oh, yes. We had an O-3 [the equivalent of an army captain] in charge of my military exchange program. I showed up for the march to formation in my SDBs [Service Dress Blue], and I wore pants, because we were going to be marching. The O-3 said no, absolutely not. They were not going to have me in pants. They wanted everyone to know they had a female exchange student, so I needed to wear a skirt and heels. I argued and eventually, we compromised. Yes, I would wear the skirt, but not the heels. First of all, you don’t march in a skirt, but no way do you do it in heels!

AW: I’m glad you stood your ground on that one! So let me skip back to where this whole conversation about Germany started—to your service selection to EUCOM in Stuttgart. What was your job and how did you find your experience there as a whole?

AB: EUCOM was a joint command—army, navy, air force, marine corps—and a high ranking command. There were plenty of women filling various roles, but not many junior officers, male or female. I was lucky to speak German, and was able to keep in touch with my friends from the Bundeswehr Universität in Munich. I worked with a team of Air Force personnel designing the collections management portion of a new computer system for the Intelligence Directorate.

AW: Were the systems you designed in operation by the time you left?

AB: Actually, the technology was changing so fast, that it was probably out of date as we were working on it. As we were writing code, we were constantly considering switching to other platforms and/or languages. They were still working on it when I left, and I don’t know when they went operational.

AW: Let’s see . . . . Switching gears completely. You married one of our classmates, Harry Brandicourt. Did you meet in school? And when did you start dating?

AB: We met the summer of youngster cruise, but didn’t really start dating until we were in Germany. Although, actually, I guess we were dating by service selection night, because he selected nuc surface [Surface Warfare Officer (nuclear)], but arranged TAD orders in Germany first before beginning his training, so he could be near me. After he returned to the states, we dated long distance. We got married when I had about six months left in that tour.

AW: And were you able to get co-located after that?

AB: Yes. We were able to arrange it so that we were both in Virginia Beach. This was definitely a compromise for both of us, because career-wise, what we each really wanted was in California. But it would have meant one of us living in Los Angeles and the other in San Diego. It just wasn’t worth it to us to live that far apart, even though technically, it would be considered co-location. Ultimately, I’m so happy I prioritized us being together over the job.

AW: Even though it wasn’t your first choice in jobs, your next assignment does sound interesting. Where did you work and what did this involve?

AB: I was at the Naval Ocean Processing Facility Dam Neck, VA, and it was an IUSS [Integrated Underseas Surveillance System] Command, with both SOSUS [Sound Surveillance System ] and SURTASS [Surveillance Towed Array Sensor System ] watch floors and facilities.

AW: Looking for submarines, then.

AB: Yes. We would receive, read, and interpret data and brief the commanding officer at least once per day. Plus, we’d coordinate with the SURTASS ships to put their arrays in the best possible location to identify and track a given submarine.

AW: I know we just scratched the surface of what you did in the navy, but I’ll try to wrap up the interview this way. You have four kids now. Have any of them entertained the idea of going to the Naval Academy?

AB: My two oldest? Definitely not. One wants to be a high school teacher, and the other, a social worker. The third said, “If nobody in this house is going to make money, I had better!”

AW: That is hilarious!

AB:  My youngest, though, occasionally talks about going to the Naval Academy. We’ll just have to see. It’s tough at only eighteen to know what you want to do. You think you know what you want to do, but you may or may not. I tell my kids that it’s cool to have an idea what to do, but it’s also good to realize it could change. And that’s totally okay.

AW: If you had to do it all over again—going to the Naval Academy—would you?

AB: I would absolutely do it again. I thought the school experience was wonderful. I learned so much I wouldn’t have learned anywhere else. All of my company-mates were great. People ask me now if it was difficult, and I say, no, it was fantastic. I grew up a lot faster than I think I would have otherwise, which I appreciate. It taught me a lot about determination and fortitude, and also how to do things I wasn’t good at. That was a hard lesson, but a good one. So yes. I’d definitely do it all again.

A Nod to Swimming - A Sport that Fosters Equality

If I give a nod to swimming, I must offer a bow to my coach,
Bob Gillett, and his wife, Kathy.
Kathy taught me to swim at the age of four, and Bob took the
reins from there, coaching me for the next thirteen years,
through high school. I don't think I can ever thank Kathy and
Bob enough for their guidance. I learned strength and
perseverance through swimming--and yes, equality--and truly,
this has been the foundation for everything else. 

When I stepped onto the grounds of the U.S. Naval Academy for Induction Day in the summer of 1985, women comprised just ten percent of the incoming class of midshipmen. In a recent radio interview, I was asked if I felt intimidated by the prospect of entering the Academy as a member of such a small minority. My answer was no.

Certainly, I was intimidated about a lot of other things at the Academy. But worried or nervous because I was a woman? No. And it wasn’t that I was extraordinarily brave or some super woman who was going to bust in, kick ass, and take names. No, I wasn’t intimidated, because up to that point, I didn’t know I could be. Or should be. Or was supposed to be.

I believe this was due in large part to my competitive swimming background, where girls and boys were treated equally from the get-go. We swam in the same lanes, performed the same workouts, raced the same events, and completed the same strength training routines. We practiced before school, after school, and on weekends. We suffered, rejoiced, complained, and commiserated, day after day, week after week, year after year. Equal all the way. Taught the same. Tasked the same. Evaluated the same.

Fortunately for me, this was reinforced at home, too. Equality in my family just was. My mother was a physician, my dad a dentist, mutual respect always. Never did they intimate that girls and boys were different in terms of intellect, drive, or resiliency.

And this constancy in example continued when they dropped me off for swim practice—a place absent of “motivational” speeches like the following:*

• Gentlemen, the cheerleading squad is over there!

• Come on, ladies, let’s move it!

• You wear a jock strap, not a skirt. Now, get out there and play like it!

• Man up!

• Cheerleader practice starts at five. If you want to stay on this field, you’d better hit somebody!

*No prizes for guessing what male-dominated sport produced these quotes.

Don’t get me wrong. We swimmers got our asses chewed if we were screwing around or not making sets or whatever, but no one’s gender was degraded in the process.

So when I finally left home to attend college across the country, I did so—naively, I guess—without thought to gender.

It was a surprise—a big surprise, actually—when I arrived at the Naval Academy to find the men’s and women’s swim teams practicing separately. Men on this end of the pool, women on that end. What?

And then, those other things. When women were separated in our physical education classes to learn self-defense, while the men learned boxing. Or when we were made to climb over a shorter wall on the obstacle course named—cringe!—the “Women’s Wall.” [Oh, that’s hard for me to write]. Or when my female classmates who entered the U. S. Marine Corps following our graduation four years later, arrived at The Basic School in Quantico, VA, and were assigned to an all-women’s platoon.

Separate. That other group. Over there. Those lesser ones.

I do believe the military services are attempting to move in the right direction, adopting physical fitness standards based on job requirement, not gender, and integrating men and women into the same units. So we’re making progress.

But we would make so much more—not just in the military, but everywhere—if we established the gender equality mindset far earlier. When our children are still kids. It could be track and field. It could be co-ed soccer. It could be equestrian. Taekwondo. Cross country. Triathlon. So many thoughtful options exist for parents—sports that foster equality between girls and boys early on, avenues that allow our children to grow up knowing no differently.

Was I intimidated going to the Naval Academy because I was a woman? No. And it’s my hope that your daughters will be able to answer in the same manner, regardless of the challenges set before them.

Women Who Inspire: Interview with Cathy (Donohue) Phillips

Cathy (Donohue) Phillips graduated with a Bachelor of Science in Political Science from the US Naval Academy.  After completing flight training, she was designated a Naval Flight Officer, and reported to Fleet Air Reconnaissance Squadron TWO (VQ-2) in Rota, Spain, where she earned her qualification as an EP-3 Electronic Warfare Mission Commander. Subsequently, she became the first woman to command an EP-3 squadron—Fleet Air Reconnaissance Squadron ONE (VQ-1). During her twenty-five year career, Cathy also served in the Office of Legislative Affairs in Washington, D. C., while concurrently serving as a White House Military Social Aide. She completed US Naval Test Pilot School in Patuxent River, MD, and upon graduation, served as a project officer at Naval Force Aircraft Test Squadron. She has logged over 3,000 flight hours in 23 types of aircraft. In addition, she served at the US Naval Academy, the Office of the Secretary of Defense, and the Defense Information Systems Agency. Cathy retired from naval service in November 2014 with the rank of Captain (O-6).  

AW: Cathy, your resume is sort of out of control. When you graduated from the Naval Academy, did you have any idea that you would be taking this path?

CP: No. None at all. It happened tour by tour. After each tour, I’d say, okay, I’m done. Then they’d offer me the job for the next tour, and I’d think, well, that sounds interesting.

AW: You served as a Naval Flight Officer (NFO) in an EP-3 squadron, VQ-2, in Rota, Spain, as your first tour of duty after flight school. Were there many women in your command?

CP: We had around five hundred people in our command—these are large squadrons—and probably seventy to eighty officers in the wardroom. Of those, maybe four or five were women. Reconnaissance had recently opened up to women when we were in flight school—a stair step leading to women flying  combat aircraft.

AW: And how about on the aircraft itself, when you’d go on missions? What was the crew composition there?

CP: We had twenty-four people on the plane.  We’d carry three pilots, three NFOs, and 18 technical crewmembers. We needed so many people because of the signals intelligence work we did.

AW: Describe this just a bit. What kind of missions did you do and how long were they?

CP: We did a wide variety of missions. We flew a lot in support of Bosnia and Herzegovina doing combat reconnaissance missions. My longest flight was 11.6 hours. We did a lot of looking at battle space, gathered information, we’d talk with entities on the ground, on ships, and on other aircraft, providing real-time situational awareness. We’d never fly above 26,000 feet. I called us big, fat, slow, and ugly!

AW: Ha! And were you flying from Rota or were you forward deployed?

CP: We forward deployed to Souda Bay in Crete. I probably spent almost two years in Crete.

AW: Two years in Greece . . . Are you kidding?

CP: That was a great tour.

AW: No doubt! So on your flights, were you ever the only woman onboard?

CP: Oh, many times.

AW: Any difficulties in this regard?

CP: No. I didn’t really have any issues on my JO [Junior Officer] tour. The only small thing was that we’d always send someone out to the carrier to act as a liaison with the EP-3. I was in the rotation to go to the carrier, but they said they wouldn’t take me aboard, because it was too hard for them to figure out the berthing. [At this time, before 1994, women were prohibited from serving aboard combatant ships]. But that was really it. What I found out later in my career is that there were a few guys who didn’t have trouble working with women, but had trouble working for women, but overall, no big issues.

AW: Which you would know about, since, for example, you were the first woman to command an EP-3 squadron. Which is really amazing when you think about it. When you first started flight school, they had just opened reconnaissance up to women and then—what, seventeen years, eighteen years?—later, you’re taking command of a reconnaissance squadron!

CP: Yeah, everything really opened up for us. Sara [Joyner] was the first female CO [commanding officer] for Hornets. Heidi Fleming took command of a squadron . . .

    

AW: What about ’89, indeed! Now, because you had the unique opportunity to command a squadron, I’m curious how you perceived your female junior officers when you were a CO. Do you see a difference in the female junior officer now as opposed to twenty-five years ago?

CP: I think everything has changed a great deal. The women who were my junior officers when I was a CO were just toddlers when we attended the Naval Academy.

AW: Yikes! How’s that for feeling old?

CP: I know! [laughs]. As you know, our “generation” of officers moved into the fleet just a few years before combatants were opened up to women. It seems, as a whole, we waited later to marry and have kids, if we married or had kids at all. My son was only two years old when I entered my XO [executive officer] and CO tour. What I see now is that the female junior officers are marrying and having children sooner. They’re just having to finesse things differently than we did.

AW: Because you mention your son, I’d like to backtrack to find out about your husband. Where did you meet him and was he in the service, too?

CP: We met in Pax River [Patuxent River, Maryland]. He was a P-3 pilot.

AW: When did you get married and how did that work in terms of co-location?

CP: We dated—long distance—for the first year of my department head tour in Rota, Spain, and then were engaged for the second year. We got married just a few months before I rotated out. I then received orders to the Naval Academy and my husband retired from the service during that tour. This worked out perfectly, because when I eventually took orders to VQ-1 for my XO and CO tour, [Whidbey Island, Washington], he was able to move with me and our son out there and work as a contractor for Homeland Security.

    

AW: How was your command tour?

CP: A hard tour. A good tour. So much to juggle. We had around 500 people operating all over the world. We didn’t deploy as a squadron, but would send detachments out. So we’d send the JOs out with their plane for two months and we had planes all over the world.  We supported Operation IRAQI FREEDOM. We had crews in South America. We had them in Japan for Operation ENDURING FREEDOM. Over the course of that year, when I was CO, I took eight or nine trips around the world to spend time with each detachment. Lots of travel. Lots of time away. Our son was between two and four years old at the time, so that was hard.  But my husband spent a lot of time at home with him and developed a great and very sweet relationship with him. At the end of my CO tour, we were exhausted.

AW: I realize I’m skipping around here, but I want to go back to the tour prior to Test Pilot School, where you were performing two jobs concurrently. You worked in the Office of Legislative Affairs in Washington, D. C. , working as a liaison officer between the House of Representatives and the navy. And at the same time you served as a White House Military Social Aide. I’m curious about the White House job. What was that?

CP: This was a collateral duty that you had to apply and be selected for. There were five or six of us—junior officers from all branches of service—and basically, you were there to help the President and his family host state dinners and receptions.

AW: How cool is that? So what did this entail?

CP: We would have different assignments depending on the dinner. Like one of us might be at the door to greet guests and welcome them to the White House. Or one of us might escort guests upstairs. We met all sorts of people, movie stars, really interesting people.

AW: And were you dressed up? In uniform?

CP: We wore mess dress [a formal uniform in the navy]. And we would also do receiving line duty. And this was actually a highly orchestrated event.

AW: You mean, directing people to the receiving line?

CP: No, more than that. We had several people assigned to the receiving line, all with specific jobs. We had the Announcer, the Pre-Announcer,  the Whisperer—

AW: The Whisperer?

CP: The person who stood behind the President and whispered in his ear about who was coming next in the receiving line. The Whisperer received his information from the Announcers.

AW: Were you ever the Whisperer?

CP: I never got to be the Whisperer.

AW: Anything else we need to know about the inner workings of the receiving line?

CP: We had Pull-off people, too.

AW: Pull-off people? I hesitate to ask. . . .

CP:  Yeah. Pull-off One and Pull-off Two. To keep the receiving line moving, we would have people assigned to “pull” the person talking to the President or another dignitary in order to keep the line moving. “Now, right this way, sir.” Stuff like that.

AW: I had no idea.

CP: You just can’t believe how smoothly everything is run. There’s a civilian protocol officer that orchestrates everything. And I mean everything.

AW: So you enjoyed this job?

CP: Yes, it was a lot of fun. I got to see how the White House runs. But I have to say, no matter who I vote for, I have a ton of respect for whoever sits in the President’s chair and also the President’s family. I mean, I only saw the social part, and that was just crazy.

AW: And then, from White House Military Social Aide to U. S. Naval Test Pilot School. What a crazy swing! Did you have to apply for that and how did it work once you were in?

CP: Yes, you had to apply and there was a selection board. Once you were in, you took one of three tracks: jet, helo, or systems. I took the systems track and when I finished [after graduation from Test Pilot School one year later], I did two years of testing on EP-3 systems.

AW: Your resume says you flew twenty-three different types of aircraft. Did you do all this in Test Pilot School?

CP: Yes. They want you to have an “air sense” about as many aircraft as possible to help round your perspective. I got to fly a wide variety of aircraft like the F-14, F-15, the Beaver—a tail dragger prop—and I got to fly in Italy with the Tornado at the end for my DT2—it’s similar to a final thesis.

   

AW: Your thesis?

CP: Yes, at Test Pilot School it was like getting an aero engineering masters and you have this project at the end that encompasses everything you learned that year.

AW: That is just so flippin’ impressive. With all of these tours—and we didn’t even get to each one of them—did you have a favorite?

CP: I loved each one in different ways . . . which is why I kept staying in. 

My Big Fat Greek Upbringing

My yiayia, Alexandra Hotis

At first glance, you might not guess I have a Greek heritage. My dad is Greek, first generation. My mom is a mix of Irish, Swedish, and Norwegian. But, without doubt, I was raised “Greek.” And the Greek culture is a patriarchal one. Not too many decades ago, if you were a girl growing up in a Greek family, your path was pretty straightforward—marry a good Greek boy and have children.

I’m amazed at the leaps women have made within my Greek family in just two generations. My extended family counts medical professionals, attorneys—including two Assistant U. S. Attorneys—accountants, teachers, publicists, businesswomen, you name it.

But I’d like to step back a moment to see how we got here, using my time growing up as an example.

If there’s anything you’d care to know about my upbringing, rent the movie, My Big Fat Greek Wedding. It’s all in there.

The large extended Greek family? Check.

Married in the Greek Orthodox church? Check. With—count ‘em—ten bridesmaids. Big fat Greek wedding indeed.

Member of the Greek dancing troupe? Check.

Everyone in the family named the same? Check.

In my family, you have one of the following names or a variation of: Alexandra, Anthony, Stacy, or James. Although, included in our ranks, we do have a Theodora and a Despina for flavor, and one rogue Karla.

The “A” in Anne A. Wilson? Alexandra. Which, by the way, has spawned four variations: Alex (for a girl), Alex (for a boy), Alexia, and Sandy.

Yiayia? Check.

Yiayia is grandmother in Greek. And any girl who calls herself Greek, has surely endured yiayia matchmaking.

You’ve seen the stereotyped yiayias, dressed in black, wearing kerchiefs, waddling to and from the kitchen carrying pans of baklava, wearing crosses on their necks, and worry beads strapped to their waists. And yeah, I’ve known my fair share.

When I lived in Annapolis, during my time at the Naval Academy, I attended Saints Constantine and Helen Greek Orthodox Church. They had an especially, uh, persuasive group there. This yiayia contingent—determined septuagenarians, who would have me marry their grandsons—would stalk me after liturgy, accosting me gang-style at church coffee hour.

“You need to find good Greek boy and get married,” Effie says.

“But I’m in school. I can’t get married,” I say.

“School? Pah! Why you go thees navy academy?”

“I want to get a degree. I’d like to be a naval officer.”

“But what about the cheeldrin, honey?” [You have to add the guttural “h” in “honey” or it’s just not authentic]. “You need to have lots of cheeldrin,” Effie says.

“But I haven’t really thought about children,” I say. “I don’t even know if I want kids.”

“Of course you do, honey,” Effie says. “You just don’t know it, yet.”

“My grandson ees good Greek boy!” Zoe says. “You listen to me!”

“No, no, no,” Soula says. “My grandson, Nick, ees businessman! He take good care of you!”

“Thanks Soula. Thanks, Zoe. But I can take care of myself pretty okay.”

“No, no, no,” Effie says. “I introduce you to my Dimitri. He owns Greek restaurant!”

“Thanks Effie. Thanks all of you. But I already have a boyfriend.”

“Oh? Who ees thees boyfriend?” Effie says.

“His name is Bill. We go to school together.”

“Bill . . . what?” she asks.

Uh, oh. She’s on to me.

“What ees his last name?” she presses.

“Wilson. His name is Bill Wilson.”

“Op, op, op!” They say in unison. “No! Ees not Greek! Ees American!” Soula says.

“But you’re American, too. We all are.”

“No, no, no,” Soula continues. “Ees not the same. Ees not Greek! See over there? That’s my grandson, Georgios. He ees from the old country.”

Oh no. Not the old country.

“Georgios, Georgios! Ela etho (come here)!”

No! He’s getting up!

Back then—this was over twenty-five years ago—the guys from the old country arrived with gold necklaces, shirts unbuttoned, chest hair brimming, the swagger, the attitude, the answer to every Greek-American girl’s dream. No, please, no.

But the "old country," aka Greece, is where my grandparents were born. My grandfather arrived in the United States at the age of eleven, and my grandmother—my yiayia—crossed the grounds of Ellis Island many years later at the age of twenty-six. Together, they raised seven children.

My dad was one among these children, which included his sister, his brother, and four half-siblings. They grew up poor in El Paso, Texas, and scrabbled and worked their you-know-whats off to make it in America.

These two generations laid the groundwork for my generation. But throughout, the essence of the Greek woman never changed. Smart and hardworking, they could take care of themselves, their family, and anyone else who came along. But now, new country, new freedoms, new opportunities. The world had opened to future generations of Greek women. We were free to fly. In my case, literally.

I marvel at this, because my sisters, my cousins, my contemporaries, we all shared the same upbringing—yiayias wondering when we were going to get married. Why was it taking so long? When are you going to have cheeldrin?

Ironically, most of us did. We got married. We had children. But it wasn’t a foregone conclusion. We had choices. Would could get an education, have a career. Have a family or not. Now or later.

Even though I poke a little fun at our yiayias, they had substance. Strong women. Tough women. And this was passed down to those of us who happened to be born in a different country at the right time with the right freedoms. If not for them, had they not had the work ethic to lay the foundation in a new country, we would never have had these opportunities in the first place.