The Pagan Activist

Pagan Soldier:

We would like to introduce to you our regular columist for 'Pagan Soldier' - Jayce!

The Pagan Activist

About Jayce:

My name is Janell Cash and I just started my journey. I am proud to say
that I serve my country by being a member of the US Armed Forces, and I
will continue to fight for the right for freedom in this great country!
I am originally from San Antonio, Texas and plan to go back there some
day. I love to travel and I love to write and have been writing since I
was in high school.

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2008:

2007:

Part IV - Coming Home:

I’m on my way home!!! I am almost there but by the time you read this I will be home free, hopefully. I am thinking about taking a job in (drum roll please) Hawaii. I should be leave mid year around August. However, I won’t get excited until I know for sure if I can go. The Army has so many ways of making sure you don’t get what you want so that they can get what they want.

It’s really hard on a person especially if you are emotionally attached to someone or even worse have a family. There are many Soldiers that are coming home to brand new families. Leaving young children behind is hard. They tend to forget about you. A friend of mine here is coming back to 8 month old twins, while another isn’t even sure if his pregnant girlfriend is carrying his child. Did she get pregnant when he was on leave? Should he marry her? If he does the right thing and trusts her and marries her before she has the child and the child ends up not being his, what will he do? Being away from family is so hard on everyone.

I know that I am coming back a whole new person than when I left. There is nothing quite like sheer terror to make a person grow up. I will also be coming back home to a pregnant sister so I am going to be an Aunt for the first time. I can’t wait to spoil that little boy or girl. I am not even sure of when I will be coming home yet. Things change daily around here so there is never a solid answer that I can give to the question my mother constantly asks. The Air Force is responsible for flying us all home. If one of the Air Force pilots doesn’t want to fly us home we are just stuck waiting. So flights get moved back and forward every day. It was just as bad getting over here.

I was so nervous. I was leaving so much behind and this was my first deployment I had no idea what to expect. I was scheduled to leave on the 28^th of December, just a few days after the holidays. We had to be back at base 5 days prior to our departure dates so I couldn’t spend the holidays with my family. As soon as I got back I was told that the flight was already moved to the right (forward) to the 30^th. While we are deployed we don’t get taxed on our money. As long as we are in the country for one day out of the month we get the whole month tax free, so I was really trying to get there by the end of December. I didn’t make it.

We got to the flight terminal on base to use a military plane. The flight terminal is a huge open warehouse with wooden benches. We waited there for 7 hours for the plane to be ready. After waiting for what seemed to be forever we were told that the flight was cancelled and that we would have to come back the next day. So now it’s New Years Eve, and I have good bye to everyone twice. I am very nervous about going into combat and frustrated that the Air Force won’t get up off their buts and get me there so I can hurry up and come home. We arrive at the flight terminal again at the butt crack of dawn and within one hour we are seated on the plane. There was nothing in my life more nerve wracking than when those warehouse doors opened up and there was this huge plane waiting to take me away to Afghanistan. I had no idea what to expect out of combat. I had never been. I had been raised on my stepfather’s stories of Vietnam, on my grandfather’s stories of Korea, and on my fellow Soldier’s stories of Desert Storm and previous deployments to Iraq. I was terrified of what I was leaving behind. I was terrified about the fact that I may never come home and all the stuff that I hadn’t accomplished in my life.

The people I never told I cared about might never hear me say that I loved them. I was terrified that I would never let my family know that I truly appreciated them even though there was resentment for bad times. That moment I forgave everyone in my life for all the bad things that they had done to me and to the people I cared about. Everything that I thought was horrible in my life just a week earlier paled in comparison to the life that was looming before me as I walked up those steps. A moment in life like that is one in a million. I am glad that I had the chance to experience it. I am glad that I was confronted with the realization of never again enjoying all the little things because now I really know how to appreciate it all.

I appreciate all that was given to me and I appreciate that chance to go home and experience life again. I will never sit at home on a Saturday wasting time. I can be called back at any moment and I want to know that I have done everything I could to make the most out of the time that was given to me. It feels like I have a new chance at life now. And I want to experience all that I missed out on in these last 14 months. I am not home yet though and I still have a few more weeks left.

This column has helped me pass the time and has helped me share some of my experiences in life with the rest of you. That moment I stepped on the plane was the moment I started questioning my faith. If I died in combat was my choice the right one.

Once I started to question everything is when I realized my new path in life.

I am proud to be a Pagan and I really feel a great pull towards my new path. I feel that everything is the way that it should be and I feel complete. I don’t know how else to describe it but it feels right. And I feel that this path has just started to reveal it’s self to me. Now that I am coming home I can experience the fullness that this path has opened up to me.

PART V:

March at last! This is the month that I finally go home! I get to spend a few days in Kyrgyzstan on my way back and I am not looking forward to that. The high temperature in Kyrgyzstan is lower than 20 degrees Fahrenheit.

I went to a heavy weapons range last month! I was able to fire six different weapons. There was my good old standard M16, a M249 SAW (Squad Automatic Weapon), an AK47, a shotgun, a 9mm (hand gun), and the mother of all guns the M2 (.50 caliber rifle). The bullets for that are as big as my hand! I had a lot of fun but that AK47 has one hell of a kick to it when you fire on automatic. That gun almost knocked me down! The best one, of course, was the .50 CAL. It’s not very often that we get to see, let alone fire them. It’s mounted on top of the HWMMV (military hummer), you get inside the turret and just let loose. Since it’s mounted you don’t get the kick, besides it’s too large to fire it on your own. When I was going through training we did get to fire this massive weapon called the AT4. It’s not a gun it’s a rocket / grenade launcher. The AT4 is this HUGE tube about 3 feet long, and has a circumference of 8 inches with a multitude of buttons. When we fired the AT4 we only used paint filled grenades but they had a demonstration where we got to see what it looks like when they fire off live grenades and rockets. I have gotten the chance to throw live grenades though. That was a scary moment for me.

Here is the story.

There is about 80 people give or take in an entire company. During training the Drill Sergeants are very mean and the whole purpose is to wear down your spirit. They also put that fear in you. I was terrified the whole time. So here we are a whole company of soldiers terrified out of their minds by these Drill Sergeants and they tell us that it’s grenade qualification day. We take our ruck sacks and pack it will all the stuff they deem mandatory. It’s mostly so that our rucks weigh more. It’s mandatory that they weight at least 35 pounds; but they usually weight 45-50. So we get our rucks packed up and go on an 8 mile ruck march out to this undisclosed location.

So now we have terrified, sweaty, sore soldiers that come up to this building by this field. You can tell instantly that we were there. This wasn’t a nice field with green grass and flowers growing. This field was surrounded by trees and there was no grass and what little grass was out there was brown. The ground was littered with holes everywhere! Some big some small but holes none the less. The whole place was fenced off and there were concrete barriers 10 feet high all around the back and sides. We lined up outside the building, carefully not looking into the eyes of our drill sergeants for fear of getting publicly humiliated by their threats of doing pushups until we puke. As we all march inside this building there is a small entrance way with a black metal door towards the back. Right in front of that door is a man with dark wooden boxes piled all around him.

We file by and are handed 2 grenades that we keep pressed up against our bodies, and then we make our way through that black door. As we walk through we are snaked around these barriers and are instructed to keep quite with our backs up against the wall. Slowly the line starts to move. Then we hear it, that loud bang that makes your ears ring. All I can say is at that moment I knew what fear was. The Drill Sergeants hyped this whole experience up telling us horror stories of arms being blown off if we didn’t do it exactly right. We practiced throwing fake grenades for days preparing for this. So here I am. A tired, sore, lonely little girl in some dark hallway waiting for my turn to throw the grenades that I am clutching tightly to my chest. Another loud burst of bangs and the line starts to move again. I ask myself “Where did the others go? Are they dead?” Of course I can’t ask the Drill Sergeants that or I would be doing pushups right there in front of everyone. More bangs and the line starts to move again. And then I see them, three doors looming in front of me with a sullen Drill Sergeant posted by each one. The doors open and out come 3 of my comrades with this look of complete awe on their faces. It’s my turn. One Drill Sergeant takes me inside one of the doors and there is that field that I saw when I arrived. It seems like forever since I saw sunlight.

There is a concrete barrier in front of me about waist high. I am ushered over to it and the Drill Sergeant takes one of my grenades. He ensures that I am wearing ear plugs and goes over the whole things once again. Drop the pin throw the grenade how hard could that be? But then he says “throw the grenade far or else you could injure us all if the grenade explodes to close.” Now I am thinking the whole company’s life is in my hands. There is that fear again. He raps his hand on my helmet and says to let it loose. I look at the grenade in my hand and I pull the pin. Life went in slow motion let me tell you. That pin started to fall and I knew that once I let that protective spoon go it would explode. So I throw it as far and as hard as I can. And I stand there looking for it. The Drill Sergeant suddenly grabs my pants and yanks me down behind the barrier. I hear that loud bang and dirt starts to rain down on me. I am clutching my head in my hand and then I realize. I did it. I’m alive!

The Drill Sergeant is of course looking at me like I am a complete idiot as he hands me the other grenade. As I go through the whole process all over again, this time a little less scared, this utter wave of relief washes over me. I stand up and walk out the door with that same look of awe that the others had when they came out those doors. I was in awe of what I had just done. I threw a live grenade. How cool was that! I am then told to go through a separate door into a holding area and wait for everyone to finish. I immediately run over to my friends and start talking about the whole thing. Like I said it was a scary moment for me, but when I look back upon it I think it was only because the Drill Sergeants made us so scared of messing up that we couldn’t think straight.

Well here’s to a 15 month deployment overseas in Afghanistan. I can tell you this. I can’t wait to get home and leave all of this behind me. I have lost two friends here both with wives. I will raise a glass to their memory when I get home and thank them for their sacrifice.

Brightest Blessings.

PART IV:

Snow has come to Afghanistan in full force!!! There is at least 6 inches outside, and I hate every minute of it. Being from the south part of the United States snow isn’t exactly something that I am familiar with. I have a favor to ask of all of you that are reading this article, send me your junk! I have just found out that a friend of mine does a little mission of sorts to give all the unwanted stuff that people send to the troops to the local people. I went with her on a recent one.

We had a truck full of leftover Christmas candy, shoes people didn’t want, toothbrushes, notebooks, socks, and any and everything that we could find. We packaged it into little bags and set out to the Egyptian Hospital. Right next to this hospital is a gate where local people can come in and receive medical care. They brought in around 1500 people to receive these goodies we had collected. There were families that walked from 20 miles away just to get there.

After we lined up, each with a box/bag full of these little packages of joy, they let the people in about 5 at a time and we would give them a bag each. There of course was a huge fight when one of the girls wasn’t able to say no when a burrkah clad lady reached into her box and took a bunch of the bags and ran off. She was soon overtaken by the Egyptian Military and escorted back to our location in order to give back the extra bags she stole. This may seem harsh but in all reality there were so many people and only a limited number of goodie bags. After we ran out of goodie bag, it didn’t take that long, we went into the sick wards where we gave out a secret stash of goodies we had put aside.

There are separate wards for the women and men, but there were a few sights that just tugged at my heart strings. Sitting on a bed in the back of the lonely hospital ward was a guilt-stricken mother no older than 17 with a baby in her arms. The small child’s face was severely burned. The mother rocked the baby as tears streamed down her face and then… she looked up at me. She pleaded for me to do something for her suffering child. It’s overwhelming seeing that much pain and anguish in a child so young. I showed her my bag of goodies that I brought, the only thing I could do to help her, and tore myself away from that wrenching scene.

There were also other mothers in the deprived ward with small children inflicted with various degrees of illnesses and injuries. One child had the mumps while another had a fever of 104. In the men’s ward there were a few more scenes like this. Many of them were older men that were in pain from a life of working the land, however, there was one father sitting beside the bed of his only male child not more than 10 or 11 years old. The child had a big bulky bandage around his right hand. When I asked what had happened I got another story that tugged at my heart.

Here’s a little background to help you understand the story. Before the UN decided to go to Afghanistan, the country was invaded by the Russians. They left mines all around the country; we are trying hard to remove as many mines as possible around the area. Well, the little boy was digging up the earth for a farm and ran across something he couldn’t uncover. As he bent down to pick it up the mine went off ruthlessly injuring his hand. Once taken to the hospital the only choice was to amputate. So the child was left with only one hand and a crushed dream of helping out on a farm in order to raise money for his poverty-stricken family.

There was also another man in the hospital that took me by surprise. With all the hurting and pain around the ward this one man had a smile on his face that was so big it could have swallowed his head! He was very grateful that we were there to help cheer him and the rest of the patients up with our gift bags. And I in return couldn’t stop smiling when I was around him. I don’t know how many times that man said thank you to me, he was just so happy.

After a bunch of photo opportunities we had to say goodbye cause we again ran out of goodie bags. So if you are reading this and there are some old leftover shoes in your house or clothes that your kids have outgrown, please, send me your junk! There are entire families over here walking around in clothes that are too small for them and they are wearing the same dirty clothes everyday because that is all that they can afford.

If you have any leftover Christmas candy, even the candy that no one really likes please, I implore you, help us out in giving these families a little bit of joy. They are more grateful than you know.

If you would like to send some stuff out here is my e-mail address. Due to security violations I can’t put my address on the web. janell.cash@gmail.com

Part III:

A new year means new beginnings; it also marks my 1 year mark overseas in Afghanistan, only 3 more to go! A new year is like a new chance at life, well for the first month anyway. Resolutions don’t tend to stick with us (or at least me) all year around. My last one did stick with me, and I am very proud of myself for that. I set an ongoing goal and it made all the difference. My resolution for this year will be something more difficult I want to finish my degree. I can’t begin to explain to you how hard it is to get an education in the military, especially overseas. I work 12 hours a day 7 days a week. It’s so hard to get anything (other than work) done. I really miss being able to sleep in on the weekends as well.

The war is still going on; there were 4 more fatalities last night. Every time a soldier dies, be it American, English, Canadian or any of the other mass of countries occupying Afghanistan, we have a fallen comrade ceremony. Some of the fallen comrade ceremonies happen where I am and some happen farther down south. For the ceremony, everyone lines up along the street, the one and only on Bagram Air Field (where I am stationed). After we stand there for about 15 minutes HMMV’s (military hummer) drive the flag (whichever country) draped casket, or caskets, down the road. The caskets are preceded by a military police car and followed directly by another military police car and the Public Affairs Office (PAO), which is the military’s media. They film the entire event. When the vehicle passes you pay your last respects by saluting the casket. The HMMV then drives onto the flight line (when the plane is waiting), the soldiers of the unit usually line up out by the plane.

Please bear in mind that this is a military plane and not a civilian plane that you would normally ride one. The plane is completely empty inside; there are no rows of seats just a giant cargo area. The HMMV then comes to a stop and the military pallbearers then carry the casket preceded by the soldiers’ country flag, unit flag, and service flag. Lined up outside the plane are 42 (21 on each side) soldiers with weapons at present arms (armed salute). The pallbearers carry the casket onto the plane and a short ceremony is then held for the fallen hero. After the distinguished personnel pay their last respects the soldiers of the fallen hero’s unit are then allowed to board the plane and pay their last respects. It’s all quite a moving experience and hardly ever is there a smiling face.

But, on a lighter note, it is now winter time and the first snowflakes are falling. This means we are looking forward to going home and starting a brand new year!

I hope your lives are filled with lots of happiness and joy all year long!

Brightest Blessings to you and yours!

Part II:

Another month has gone by and that is one more month closer to going home. We just had to say our final goodbyes to a great friend o mine SGT Adam “Pikee” Quinn. He was a good guy and didn’t deserve to die here. That got me thinking. With the Wiccan Creed “An’ harm ye none; do as ye will,” does that include acts of violence outside the magic circle? It goes the same in Christianity “thou shalt not kill.” So what do I do? If I am put in the situation where a man is coming at me with a gun do I fight or flee? I am trained to stand my ground and put up a fight. But how many people could actually do that. I have been thinking more about that after Pikee’s death. What I wouldn’t do to see those a**holes that were responsible for this. But does me creed prevent me from harming them? Do I actually think that I can handle the fact that I took a life? I would probably opt for the girl way out and take off and find some cover. I have perfected my run thanks to the Army. But, the strange thing with Pagans/ Wiccans of all denominations, if I may call them that, we feel more in touch with living things than any other main-stream religion.

This war is taking a toll on my mental state of mind in more ways than I am comfortable with. With people dying left and right my emotions are all thrown out of whack and then there is the stress of the job and the short tempers everyone has. It’s almost enough to make me commit homicide on one or two individuals I work with let alone the Taliban. “An’ harm ye none, do as ye will.” Words to live by, but do they apply to the war. And another thing, am I over here fighting for freedoms and liberties for these people or fighting for a God that I don’t believe in? Has this become a modern day crusade? With the President making the remarks he did about Wiccans back in the 2000 presidential elections – you can find that whole thing here http://www.religioustolerance.org/wic_pres.htm - makes me wonder why he is sending the people of a religion he doesn’t even support over to fight his battles.

Is this a war for their freedoms, his God, oil, or justice? The line has now become so blurred it’s hard to distinguish why we are here. With the conflicts in Iraq heating up yet again the world has once again forgotten about Osama Bin Laden. Some even have the nerve to think that we are in Iraq because of the Twin Tower attacks. Osama Bin Laden and the Taliban are –surprise- from Afghanistan. Whether or not he is still in this country, which I doubt, is still in question. Of course don’t quote me on that I am no where near up in the ranks to know that kind of stuff. But if I just pissed off a powerful country with technology far more superior than my own, and found out that they are sending in insane amounts of people to coming to look for me, I would high tail it out of there faster than you could breathe.

On a lighter note, I am still continuing my search for local Pagans and Wiccans; if you know anyone over in Afghanistan send me a message through the forum! Brightest Blessings.

PART I: Military Life:

My name is Janell Cash I have been in the army a little over 4 years and have been a Pagan for one. After arriving to Afghanistan my first mission was to find local Pagans. Well actually my second mission; my first being, of course, to stay alive!

Being in the military, first of all, as a Pagan is no easy task; I wear a pentacle ring and get questions constantly. “Oh what a pretty ring what does it mean?” The response is not what they expect. “I am a Pagan.” It’s usually met with a “Huh?” or in close second is the “Oh, what’s that?” A simple response is all it takes to get the meaning through. “It’s a religion; it’s like wearing a cross.” Then comes “the look” that all of us have seen before. Their eyes go wide and they sort of nod while mouthing a silent “Oh.” Of course there have been the occasional people that ask what being a Wiccan is all about.

My favorite response however has to be from a Sergeant in my company. Once I told him he blurted out “People Against Goodness And Normalcy.” I wasn’t sure if I should be shocked or offended. He rebounded after seeing my expression with the explanation about the 1987 movie Dragnet. I had no idea what he was talking about, so half an hour later I Googled it. In the military you have to respect another person’s religion.

However, being in the minority and part of a religion with so many bad stereotypes that is often not the case there is constantly people looking at you with that “look.” When I first came out of the “broom closet” to my close friend and coworker, Tony, his first response was, “Can you turn people into chickens?” And a whole host of questions of that nature. Sometimes I think that it just takes a little understanding on their part. There are hundreds of Pagans in the military that are most likely to afraid of coming out for these reasons.

Up until a week ago I was a “No religious Preference,” but after seeing some debate on the matter about CH Larson and his battle to become the first Wiccan Chaplain I knew it was time for a change. Because of all the enormous paperwork behind getting a Chaplain for us we are still at the zero line. They say that there are simply not enough of us in the Army to condone a Chaplain. Most of us are hiding under secrecy for fear of prosecution or being treated differently. But if we don’t fight for this right if we only say in our minds how unfair this is how does that not work out for us. We need to have our voices heard. So I am starting a new chapter in my life not only down my new chosen path but by trying to make it better for my fellow pagans in the military. The numbers and the odds are against us but with a little faith and some hard work I think that we can get the ball rolling. There is just one catch; I will need some help. With my being deployed, and in Afghanistan of all places, that may be a problem. We will see how it goes from here.

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