This I Wonder Essay
I was standing uncomfortably straight. I stood straight for a living, but today demanded the task of standing extra straight. I was standing in a small room with bare, white walls. My company commander, a short burly man, sat at his desk with a stern look on his face concentrated on the paperwork that sat on his desk in front of him. “Sir, Specialist Ehmann reports.” I blurted out. I could feel my hand shaking ever so slightly as I saluted him, waiting for him to salute me in order to drop my hand. Without making eye contact or taking his eyes off the paperwork that lay before him, he gave me a casual salute while seated at his desk. I dropped my hand in a swift motion.
“At ease.” He said in a calming tone. I didn’t know why exactly I was there, but no news is good news in the army. I didn’t know him that well either, he did his job and I did mine so our paths rarely crossed, but when they did he typically spoke to me very candidly and respectfully; the way that I preferred a superior to talk to me.
“Your Urine Analysis has tested positive for marijuana. Illicit drug use is a violation of the Uniform Code of Military Justice.” He was obviously reading something formal. I felt a wave of nervous heat run over my body.
“The manner will go to court martial. You are to report to JAG at 0900. Do you have any questions?” My heart was nearly jumping out of my throat. Of course I had questions. “Negative, sir.” His eyes shot up at me. “None?” He furrowed his brow.
My head was spinning. How had my timing been this awful? I was guilty of smoking pot, but it was a pretty rare. I had probably done it ten times since I’ve been on Ft. Bliss. Why me? What am I going to tell my family? What am I going to do for a living without the military? “No, sir.” After a second or two of looking me over he gave me a nod, a cue to salute him and be on my way. I saluted him and quickly turned to the door, marching out of the room.
My platoon sergeant was waiting for me on the other side of the door. He looked at me and shook his head. “I’m disappointed.” He said.
At 0900 I reported to a young officer at JAG who would be representing me as an attorney if I wasn’t going to pay for a lawyer. She was kind of like a public defender. We went through a couple formalities and then she started asking me a couple of questions. “So you did smoke marijuana?” I told her I had.
“Was there anything about the actual urinalysis that wasn’t like others?” I thought about it for a minute.
“Well, they did collect and hold the urine in the motor pool.” She went on to explain to me that a urinalysis must be collected in somewhat of a sterile environment. The motor pool, which is basically a huge “Jiffy Lube,” is not that sterile environment that they’re looking for. Before, I was absolutely powerless in the situation. At least now I had a sliver of hope.
Court martial is very similar to regular civilian court in that you put in a plea of guilty or not guilty. If I were to plea not guilty and be found guilty, the punishment would be more severe.
Now I have seen these happen quite a few times before. Fort Bliss tests for drugs three times more than the average army base because of its location. The base was in the heart of El Paso, a border town in Texas with tons of drugs floating around. The drug and alcohol problem was so out of control that they lowered the drinking age for soldiers to 18 just to deter younger soldiers from going to Mexico to party. Still, people consistently tested positive for drugs like marijuana and cocaine. So, about a year before I got there they started sending the soldiers to prison for a month if they popped hot and kicking them out; assuming that a more strict punishment would lead to a decline in use.
My situation was a little unique, though. I had never seen anyone plea not guilty, or even have an excuse to do so, for that matter. I wasn’t alone, either. Pvt Freck, the resident fuck-up of the battery also tested positive for drugs in the same test. Since we were in similar situations we started hanging out because we had to go to the same places together. A court martial is a big deal in the Army so our days were filled with travelling around the base, getting paper work done together.
Freck was pleading not guilty due to the little technicality that I discussed earlier. I knew that by pleading guilty meant I would be going to Otero Prison’s solitary confinement for a month. This is where Fort Bliss sent everyone that popped hot on a urine. I always remember the duty van coming back from Otero, dropping off a bearded soldier in his ACUs. Obviously, you don’t have to shave in prison. They looked like they were Special Forces soldiers coming from a tour in Afghanistan; bearded, under-nourished and generally crazy looking.
After you came back from prison, typically you stayed for a few more months and did out-processing paperwork and you get a general discharge. A general discharge is in between an honorable and a dishonorable.
I went the safe route and pleaded guilty, but was still eager to hear the outcome of Freck’s court martial. I grew to kind of like Freck and so did the rest of the unit. Even though he was always in trouble, he always had the sort of relationship with his superiors that a mischievous child would have with his parents. I knew that fighting it, even if I had won, would have made my life miserable. My commander and my first sergeant would have been in trouble for conducting a urinalysis wrong and I’m sure they would have had no problem taking their frustrations out on me.
The court martial itself was shorter than I thought it would be. I remember thinking of ways to keep my hand steady when I would have to salute the commander during the court martial. It was held in a small, make shift courtroom complete with folding chairs in a huge building I had never been in before. I had a couple buddies and people that I worked with that left work to come watch it. It was weird because my “lawyer” from JAG didn’t even have to show up. The court martial was judged by a commander of a different battery in the battalion to prevent any bias; since he would basically be a complete stranger to me. He asked me if I had, indeed, smoked pot. I told him the truth. My commander, platoon sergeant and squad leader all got opportunities to speak on my behalf; like a character witness would do in civilian court. They all spoke very highly of me, including my commander who didn’t even know me that well. In the end I knew that this didn’t matter, but it still made me smile.
After about 10 minutes of the whole court martial procedure came the verdict and punishment. I was found guilty, I was going to Otero prison for one month, my rank was taken away and I was going to be given a general discharge under honorable conditions.
After the court martial I was handcuffed and waited around for what seemed to be an eternity for the duty driver to take me to prison. I remember feeling strangely relaxed for someone who was about to get locked up. Obviously, this wasn’t the outcome that I had hoped for, but it was definitely the outcome I expected. When the battalion duty driver arrived to take me to jail it turned out I knew who he was. He took me to Carl’s Jr, which would be my closest thing to a meal I would have in the next thirty days. He uncuffed me and we quietly ate in the van.
After we ate, we started our drive up to Otero County. I knew the driver, but wasn’t really in the mood for talking. Most of the ride we just sat and listened to the radio. About twenty minutes into the ride, the driver’s cell phone rang. He knew my situation and after a short conversation, he turned to me and said “You’re not going to believe this.”
“What? “Freck was found not guilty.” I could’ve kicked myself. He used the same defense that I was presented with at JAG. I couldn’t believe that this whole situation could’ve been avoided. I wasn’t angry that Freck was found not guilty, I was mad that we both weren’t found not guilty. I’m not going to go into the story about being locked up, but being in solitary confinement, especially, gives you lots of time to think. It’s almost like a self-deprivation tank. Its funny because a month doesn’t seem that long, but when you’re denied any distractions, time starts behaving a little differently. That is a whole other story.
I was standing uncomfortably straight. I stood straight for a living, but today demanded the task of standing extra straight. I was standing in a small room with bare, white walls. My company commander, a short burly man, sat at his desk with a stern look on his face concentrated on the paperwork that sat on his desk in front of him. “Sir, Specialist Ehmann reports.” I blurted out. I could feel my hand shaking ever so slightly as I saluted him, waiting for him to salute me in order to drop my hand. Without making eye contact or taking his eyes off the paperwork that lay before him, he gave me a casual salute while seated at his desk. I dropped my hand in a swift motion.
“At ease.” He said in a calming tone. I didn’t know why exactly I was there, but no news is good news in the army. I didn’t know him that well either, he did his job and I did mine so our paths rarely crossed, but when they did he typically spoke to me very candidly and respectfully; the way that I preferred a superior to talk to me.
“Your Urine Analysis has tested positive for marijuana. Illicit drug use is a violation of the Uniform Code of Military Justice.” He was obviously reading something formal. I felt a wave of nervous heat run over my body.
“The manner will go to court martial. You are to report to JAG at 0900. Do you have any questions?” My heart was nearly jumping out of my throat. Of course I had questions. “Negative, sir.” His eyes shot up at me. “None?” He furrowed his brow.
My head was spinning. How had my timing been this awful? I was guilty of smoking pot, but it was a pretty rare. I had probably done it ten times since I’ve been on Ft. Bliss. Why me? What am I going to tell my family? What am I going to do for a living without the military? “No, sir.” After a second or two of looking me over he gave me a nod, a cue to salute him and be on my way. I saluted him and quickly turned to the door, marching out of the room.
My platoon sergeant was waiting for me on the other side of the door. He looked at me and shook his head. “I’m disappointed.” He said.
At 0900 I reported to a young officer at JAG who would be representing me as an attorney if I wasn’t going to pay for a lawyer. She was kind of like a public defender. We went through a couple formalities and then she started asking me a couple of questions. “So you did smoke marijuana?” I told her I had.
“Was there anything about the actual urinalysis that wasn’t like others?” I thought about it for a minute.
“Well, they did collect and hold the urine in the motor pool.” She went on to explain to me that a urinalysis must be collected in somewhat of a sterile environment. The motor pool, which is basically a huge “Jiffy Lube,” is not that sterile environment that they’re looking for. Before, I was absolutely powerless in the situation. At least now I had a sliver of hope.
Court martial is very similar to regular civilian court in that you put in a plea of guilty or not guilty. If I were to plea not guilty and be found guilty, the punishment would be more severe.
Now I have seen these happen quite a few times before. Fort Bliss tests for drugs three times more than the average army base because of its location. The base was in the heart of El Paso, a border town in Texas with tons of drugs floating around. The drug and alcohol problem was so out of control that they lowered the drinking age for soldiers to 18 just to deter younger soldiers from going to Mexico to party. Still, people consistently tested positive for drugs like marijuana and cocaine. So, about a year before I got there they started sending the soldiers to prison for a month if they popped hot and kicking them out; assuming that a more strict punishment would lead to a decline in use.
My situation was a little unique, though. I had never seen anyone plea not guilty, or even have an excuse to do so, for that matter. I wasn’t alone, either. Pvt Freck, the resident fuck-up of the battery also tested positive for drugs in the same test. Since we were in similar situations we started hanging out because we had to go to the same places together. A court martial is a big deal in the Army so our days were filled with travelling around the base, getting paper work done together.
Freck was pleading not guilty due to the little technicality that I discussed earlier. I knew that by pleading guilty meant I would be going to Otero Prison’s solitary confinement for a month. This is where Fort Bliss sent everyone that popped hot on a urine. I always remember the duty van coming back from Otero, dropping off a bearded soldier in his ACUs. Obviously, you don’t have to shave in prison. They looked like they were Special Forces soldiers coming from a tour in Afghanistan; bearded, under-nourished and generally crazy looking.
After you came back from prison, typically you stayed for a few more months and did out-processing paperwork and you get a general discharge. A general discharge is in between an honorable and a dishonorable.
I went the safe route and pleaded guilty, but was still eager to hear the outcome of Freck’s court martial. I grew to kind of like Freck and so did the rest of the unit. Even though he was always in trouble, he always had the sort of relationship with his superiors that a mischievous child would have with his parents. I knew that fighting it, even if I had won, would have made my life miserable. My commander and my first sergeant would have been in trouble for conducting a urinalysis wrong and I’m sure they would have had no problem taking their frustrations out on me.
The court martial itself was shorter than I thought it would be. I remember thinking of ways to keep my hand steady when I would have to salute the commander during the court martial. It was held in a small, make shift courtroom complete with folding chairs in a huge building I had never been in before. I had a couple buddies and people that I worked with that left work to come watch it. It was weird because my “lawyer” from JAG didn’t even have to show up. The court martial was judged by a commander of a different battery in the battalion to prevent any bias; since he would basically be a complete stranger to me. He asked me if I had, indeed, smoked pot. I told him the truth. My commander, platoon sergeant and squad leader all got opportunities to speak on my behalf; like a character witness would do in civilian court. They all spoke very highly of me, including my commander who didn’t even know me that well. In the end I knew that this didn’t matter, but it still made me smile.
After about 10 minutes of the whole court martial procedure came the verdict and punishment. I was found guilty, I was going to Otero prison for one month, my rank was taken away and I was going to be given a general discharge under honorable conditions.
After the court martial I was handcuffed and waited around for what seemed to be an eternity for the duty driver to take me to prison. I remember feeling strangely relaxed for someone who was about to get locked up. Obviously, this wasn’t the outcome that I had hoped for, but it was definitely the outcome I expected. When the battalion duty driver arrived to take me to jail it turned out I knew who he was. He took me to Carl’s Jr, which would be my closest thing to a meal I would have in the next thirty days. He uncuffed me and we quietly ate in the van.
After we ate, we started our drive up to Otero County. I knew the driver, but wasn’t really in the mood for talking. Most of the ride we just sat and listened to the radio. About twenty minutes into the ride, the driver’s cell phone rang. He knew my situation and after a short conversation, he turned to me and said “You’re not going to believe this.”
“What? “Freck was found not guilty.” I could’ve kicked myself. He used the same defense that I was presented with at JAG. I couldn’t believe that this whole situation could’ve been avoided. I wasn’t angry that Freck was found not guilty, I was mad that we both weren’t found not guilty. I’m not going to go into the story about being locked up, but being in solitary confinement, especially, gives you lots of time to think. It’s almost like a self-deprivation tank. Its funny because a month doesn’t seem that long, but when you’re denied any distractions, time starts behaving a little differently. That is a whole other story.