Laura Naylor Colbert - Sirens: How to Pee Standing Up—An Alarming Memoir of Combat and Coming Back Home

WARRIORS PUBLISHING GROUP

NORTH HILLS, CALIFORNIA

The war was always there, as undeniable as the jagged little black lumps of shrapnel which spent a lifetime worming their way out of his hard old body.

Tony Parsons, Man and Boy

Contents

Did you look under the lip of the sink? Wes asked.

PART I::

THE INTRODUCTION

Yup, I didnt find anything. Do you mind checking the ceiling tiles? I responded.

You bet. Westhe school resource officerstepped onto a ladder. He lifted the lightweight drop-ceiling tiles and ran his finger around the edge. He continued to the next stall and did the same thing. In the meantime, I opened the metal paper towel dispensermy fingers blindly searching for incriminating evidence. I pulled the thick black plastic trash bag out of the tall gray receptacle. I shook the bag and crunched the soggy used brown paper towels, hoping to feel a hard JUUL pod. I got on my knees and explored under and around the toilet crannies. Thank goodness Im doing this in the morning when this space is relatively clean. These kids are crafty when it comes to hiding their e-cigarettes. If only we could find a pod or the charging devicesomething to prove that the last student in here was vaping and was the culprit who left the fruity odor behind him.

Did you find anything? Wes askedinterrupting my train of thought.

Nothing. Our search is in vain; the e-cigarette smoker won this time.

Wes joked when we were walking back to my office, You oughta write a book about this crap. You cant make this stuff up. If I would have told my wife that I would be searching ceiling tiles in the middle-school boys bathroom, she wouldnt have believed me.

Ha! I hear ya. Who would have thought my military police training would so pertinent as a middle-school administrator? I chuckled.

My name is Laura Naylor Colbert. I am an American citizen and a veteran. I imagined I would do something extraordinary in my life, being an overachiever and an adventure seeker from the start, but nevernot in a million yearsthought I would go to war.

I grew up in a small town in central Wisconsin in a typical American family. Along with various pets, I have two brothers and two amazing parents. My parents are still happily married and are proof that hard work, love, and faith in God can do great things. I owe so much to them. They are my heroes and role models. Both of my parents were civil servants, and all three of their kids ended up working in the same field. My mom, who is now retired, worked at Head Start for almost two decades. She is smart, giving, and fun to be around. My dad, who is also retired, was a self-employed family and business consultant. He consulted for many different organizations, including the State of Wisconsin, where he facilitated the Wrap-Around program, which creates teams centered around at-risk youth. Hes intelligent, kind-hearted, funny, and he keeps our family grounded.

As a freshman at UW-Madison, I signed up for the Army National Guard on March 6, 2001. I did it to help pay for college, to have adventures, to serve my country, and as a reason to stay in shape. I had no idea war was on the horizon. When I was debating whether or not to sign up, my friend Rachael Murray said, Do it. Whats going to happen in the next six years?

We all know what happened six months later on that somber September 11 th day.

I left for basic training the summer of 2001. It was two months of madness. In August 2001, I returned to college for my sophomore year. The following summer, I went back to Fort Leonard Wood for Advanced Individual Training to become a Military Police officer. Most troops conduct their basic training and AIT at the same time, but I was given the option to split my training since I was a college student.

In front of my temporary up-armored Humvee in Camp Flacon before a run to the IP Stations. This is prior to putting on my 40-pound vest and Kevlar. I wore this black beanie to collect the sweat and keep my hair out of my face. June 2004.

The beginning of my

soldier self

At basic training.everything is associated with killing and after a while, you want to do it.you create this internal anger towards an unknown enemy and you have this drive to kill that enemy whoever it may be. You are prepared on the most intense psychological level.

The Ground Truth

Basic Training. June through August 2001: the first time in my life I strived to be invisible. I didnt know a thing about the military. I didnt know the difference between a general and a sergeant, between a team and a platoonI was ignorant in the ways of the military. I tried my hardest to stay out of trouble and under the radar, but as you can imagine, being a six-foot-tall female did not bode well for me. Overall, the drill sergeants left me alone, but once in a while, they picked on me because of my height. At college, with 45,000 other students, being tall wasnt a big deal. I had just finished my novice year on the crew team, where my height was considered average. Suffering through years of trying to find a tall-enough guy to date or jeans that didnt look like capris was bad enough, but I caught grief from the military as well. About a month into Basic, Drill Sergeant Harger came up to me in the chow line and whispered, Private, get down to my level.

I bent at the waist until I had shrunk to his 57 stature.

He shook his head, smirked, and then hissed, No, Private. Bend at the knees.

I straightened my waist and then bent my knees until my eyes were level with his determined steel-gray eyes. I was practically squatting. My thighs burned while he grilled me on my family, my college career, and my friends. He finally told me to stand at ease. My knees creaked in pain when I returned to a standing position. My legs trembled and almost crumbled beneath me when I stepped forward in the line.