Gail Dwyer OSullivan - Tough As Nails: One Womans Journey through West Point

ONE WOMANS JOURNEY THROUGH WEST POINT

Gail OSullivan Dwyer

TOUGH AS NAILS
2009 Gail OSullivan Dwyer

Published by Hellgate Press (an imprint of L&R Publishing, LLC)
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or used in any form or by any means, graphic, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping, or information and retrieval systems without written permission of the publisher.
Hellgate Press
PO Box 3531
Ashland, OR 97520

email: info@hellgatepress.com

Editor: Harley B. Patrick
Cover design: L. Redding

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Dwyer, Gail OSullivan.
Tough as nails : one womans journey through West Point / Gail OSullivan Dwyer;[editor], Harley B. Patrick. -- 1st ed.
p. cm.
Includes bibliographical references and index.
ISBN 978-1-55571-663-9 (alk. paper)
1. Dwyer, Gail OSullivan. 2. United States Military AcademyBiography. 3. United States. ArmyBiography. 4. United States. Army--Women. 5. Women military cadets--United States--Biography. 6. Women soldiers--United States--Biography. I. Patrick, Harley B. II. Title.
U410.M1D84 2009
355.0092--dc22
[B]

2009025875

Printed and bound in the United States of America
First edition 10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

Graduation ceremony program, West Point Class of 1981

To the Long Gray Line and the families that sustain it...

Eer may that line of gray
Increase from day to day;
Live, serve, and die, we pray,
West Point for thee...

Hail, Alma Mater, dear!
To us be ever near.
Help us thy motto bear
thru all the years.
Let Duty be well performed,
Honor be eer untarnd,
Country be ever armed,
West Point, by thee!

Guide us, thine own, aright,
Teach us by day, by night,
To keep thine honor bright,
For thee to fight.
When we depart from thee,
Serving on Land or sea,
May we still loyal be,
West Point to thee!

And when our work is done,
Our course on earth is run,
May it be said, Well done,
Be thou at peace.
Eer may that line of gray
Increase from day to day;
Live, serve, and die, we pray,
West Point, for thee!

-Paul S. Reinecke

(Text amendments for gender inclusion made in June 2008)

My mother used to say, Honey, if you dont have anything nice to say, dont say anything at all.

If I didnt have anything nice to say and it wasnt important to the story, I didnt say it. If I didnt have anything nice to say and it made the story what it was, then I changed the name. If youre reading this and think you might be a character whose name was changed, maybe you should consider not doing things that arent nice.

The conversations cited are not verbatim, but were composed from memory based upon the situation.

All other parts of this story are as I remember them, as I perceived them.
There are women who have gone to West Point who did not have positive experiences and I regret that. I only wish all had a story such as mine.

One final thought: I didnt do anything; I realize that. I was offered an opportunity to be a part of history; I took it. We all have a story. I just wrote mine down.

This is my story.

My husband was naked when we met. Or so he says.

He tells the story more than I care to hear and I always interrupt, scoff, deny, rebut. But, I think people really believe him. People just like to believe weird stuff. Thats why they buy magazines with stories of aliens and Elvis on Maui.

He didnt have a shirt on. Ill give him that. He was sitting on his bed in his barracks room at West Point, playing a guitar and the guitar covered his lap, which covered his major male body part. It was that kind of hot that suffocates everything except the New York gnats. The barracks werent air conditioned. We didnt even have fans.

We were both cadets at the United States Military Academy at West Point. It was the summer before his senior year and my junior year. He was in the Class of 1980, the first class that admitted women, and I was a member of the Class of 1981, the second class with women. (We all knew we werent nearly as important as the first.)

Id met his roommate earlier in the day and thats who I was looking for. Instead, I found this guy, sitting on his bed playing the guitar without a shirt on. I thought to myself: The last thing Id do on a stifling, miserable day is play the guitar naked on my bed. Then I thought something else to myself: The other last thing Id do is be attracted to a guy who played the guitar naked on his bed.

So, the weird part of this story is that weve been married now for over twenty-eight years.

There are people who ask me, How could you not see that he was naked?

These people dont know me well. I miss stuff like that all the time. I live in my own little world, oblivious to realities that dont match my perceptions. Where I came from, naked men didnt sit on beds playing the guitar. Where I came from, naked men didnt sit anywhere. There werent any naked men where I came from. If Id said the word penis in front of my mother, shed have had a heart attack and died on the spot. So why would I expect there to be one, a bare one, beneath that guitar? I didnt. I didnt see a naked guy on that bed; I saw a guy with gym shorts on.

Gail OSullivan at 8 months. Bonnet later replaced by grey mailman hat. Sept. 1959

Dont we all see what we want to see, how we want to see it? When I left Braintree, Massachusetts in July of 1977 to go to West Point, I saw an opportunity. It was an opportunity that I didnt rightfully deserve, but just because I happened to be at the right place at the right time in history, it was given to me. It was a gift. And I accepted the gift the way I was brought up, politely, apologetically, trying to prove that I deserved it. Sure, I saw bitterness and I saw injustice. I accepted this, too, the way I was brought up, patiently, gently, feeling bad about it. I saw myself breaking down the walls of prejudice one brick, one cadet, one instructor, one old grad at a time. Thats what I saw. Thats all I saw.

Sometimes I missed stuff that was standing smack dab in front of my eyes because I was too busy earning that gift, too busy fulfilling dreams. Sometimes seeing what you want to see isnt such a bad idea. If Id seen that penis under the guitar, Id have crawled out of that room and away from that guy, away from the road Ive been on for the past thirty years. Sometimes, when you miss stuff, you have the best time of all.

Gail in 3rd grade

I felt like I was waiting in line for the roller coaster at Paragon Park. If I did roller coasters, that is. I dont even do Ferris wheels. But, if I did, I would have that same belly-lurching, Im-going-to-throw-up sensation that overtook me that April morning in fifth grade. I wanted to do it, but was scared to death.