A Modern Shotgun Wedding

Many may balk at this story, but I assure you that every bit of it is true.

In 1989 I was eight years into my army career and everything seemed to be going great. I was on the promotion list to get another strip, I had an assignment as a drill corporal, the 97th Signal Battalion which did the communications for NATO headquarters and as an AIT instructor at Fort Gordon, GA.

It was at the end of my assignment as an AIT instructor that I came down on orders to attend Army Recruiting school at Fort Benjamin Harrison, Indiana.

I didn't want the assignment. I don't think anyone does, but couldn't turn it down. Only the top five-percent of any given peer group gets the assignment because it is a high stress job and the peer group rating indicates you a person who can handle the transition from soldier to salesman.

I was at the school to become a Recruiter during the San Francisco-Oakland World Series earthquake, there is another couple of stories there, so I include that fact now just to provide a time-frame. The school was intensive, especially if you come from a job where you are focused on taking care of soldiers and keeping them focused on a mission. This was thirty-percent rules and regulations and seventy-percent sales.

With school complete I received my assignment, my home town of Roseville, CA and my territory included my alma mater Oakmont High School.

Arriving at my new duty station I found I had inherited three seniors at Oakmont who had enlisted under the 'Delayed Entry' program and were just waiting for graduation so they could start basic training. My responsibility to those young men was more-or-less to babysit them and make sure they graduated. There was a secondary goal of getting these three to recommend their peers to join the army too; the best way to do this was to befriend them. So when I found out that one had missed three days of school because he was sick with the flu I traveled to him home in Granite Bay to check on him. It gave me an opportunity to meet his family and do my due-diligence and make sure he wasn't skipping school. Something we called a "health and welfare check".

Before I get much further into this I should mention that army recruiters, at least when I was in the game, targeted individuals in different categories because they were worth points. For example, a high school senior is worth a point, after graduation two points, a person in college would be three points. Additional points were awarded for a female, had graduated college, was a nurse or doctor, etc. So J*** was worth a point and I would get another point once he graduated and was shipped off to meet his drill sergeant.

His father was the pastor of a local Baptist church, so the house was the church was it's parsonage.
Being a recruiter I was wearing my dress uniform with all my awards and other appropriate acoelomates pinned in their proper locations. I checked on J*** and yes, he had been under the weather but was on the mend.

His father invited me to sit for a time in the living room and being polite I accepted. His wife brought a cup of coffee and conversation between dad and myself turned to items on my uniform as he too was army airborne, so we bonded a bit over stories of Fort Benning.

Also in the room was J***'s older sister, she was more focused on the needle point project in front of her. I had found out through previous conversations with J*** that his sister had completed two years of college, something army recruiters call a "high grad", and if I could sign-up a female with two years of college I would have been a hero as these 'categories' give you extra points.

I thought it a bit gosh to recruit there in their living room, so I thanked them for their hospitality and returned to Roseville and the recruiting office.

Over the next week or so I asked J*** to introduce me to his sister. His standing reply was to come to church and meet her there.

Being the ambitious, young, focused on acceding Sergeant I was guess what I did…

…I went to church.

That Sunday I went all out; spit-shinned my shoes, made sure my brass belt buckle reflected everything,  even a fresh haircut.

J*** was a perfect host. He introduced me to everyone; from the elders to the youngest members.

I remember the sermon like it was yesterday. The pastor (J***’s dad) must have been given the heads-up that I would be attending because he spoke of the pitfalls and evils of pride.

Picture it, I’m sitting in a back pew in my dress uniform being told my accomplishments, brightly displayed with shinny medals and ribbons, was a bad thing. I was wearing my pride on my chest for all to see.

I couldn’t wait to get out of there; when all was said and done I was the poster boy demonstrating everything the preacher just proclaimed was wrong with the world.

But I was there on a mission.

And the mission was accomplished; I had a lunch appointment with the high-grad female.
I say “appointment” because that is exactly what I intended; I was going to “put her in boots”.

Best laid plans of mice and men…

I’m still not sure about the exact sequence of events but I can assure it went quick. She was intelligent, got my odd-ball humor, and loved the uniform.

Right away I was smitten. Even as I write this I have to admit to this day I have never felt as in love as I was that spring.

And for a twenty-something army nerd it was perfect.

She loved me too.

In the early mornings on her way to work in Sacramento she would call and I would unlock my apartment door; she would stop by and we would make love.

We would every chance we could.

After church, before work, after work, anytime she could get away from the pastor.

We were in love.

She assured me she was on The Pill.

Everything was great. I had a job in the army where I didn’t need to slosh around in the mud,  I was in my hometown around family and friends, and I was getting laid more then anyone in the history of mankind.

The only thing I had to do to keep this up was go to church, which was OK because I was “getting some” afterwards as we would pretend a lunch date afterwards.

Nothing lasts forever.

In a Baptist Church once the preacher finishes his sermon and while the songs are been sung there is an “alter call”. This is where people who have been ‘moved by the spirit’ go to the front of the church and confess their sins and their love for God.

One Sunday in May while on of these alter calls my love left my side in the pew and approached the front of the church.

She left me sitting alone at the place we had carved out as a couple for ourselves, away from her family; after all we were a couple, building a future.

She confessed her sins.

If there is such a thing as a nuclear bomb in a church it went off that spring day.

She confessed premarital sex and informed the congregation she was pregnant.
This is how I learned my Love was with child.

Alone, at the right far end of a pew, on the right side of the church in front of a hundred or so strangers who’s focus changed from the sinner to the one who caused her to sin.

And there was a baby.

Let me pause one moment and remind you, this is a TRUE story.

I’m in a Baptist Church, and the preacher’s daughter just told everyone she is pregnant and I’m the one who is responsible for this shame.

Some of the church elders along with the preacher himself took this as an affront to their Christian since-abilities and their reputation in and around Roseville.

Some of them were old soldiers.

I’m sure they were thinking of the reputation of their church and community, but they started contacting the army expounding on their embarrassment and shame.

Called into the commander’s office in Sacramento I was reminded that I represented the US Army in my community.

Trust me, no one was more embarrassed then I.

Their phone press worked, and I convinced the commander I would do the right thing.

After all it was an easy decision, I loved her… embarrassed aside I was happy to incorporate M*** as the one with whom I embark on the next chapter of my life.

The wedding was quick, two weeks top.

In the month or less since the bomb and the wedding the calls from the elders to the army hierarchy took root.

I had embarrassed the army and their sensibility of their right and wrong.

Although I had married M*** my reputation in the community had been ruined as far as my First Sergeant and Sergeant Major were concerned.

I was an embarrassment to recruiters everywhere.

The Monday following the wedding I was released from my responsibilities as a army recruiter and after my son was born sent back to the 'regular' army as the First Gulf War had broken out and they needed me.

I never told M***. I wasn’t ever going to admit that a consideration for our wedding was my career, I’m sure her considerations for that alter call would have the impact it did.

With the community pressure on the Army and myself this was a modern shotgun wedding.

To this day I harbor anger at the elders of Landmark Missionary Baptist Church in Roseville, CA. Their meddling and busy-body backroom gossip has only stiffened distain for organized religion.