War is hell. It’s also real people transforming themselves—sometimes briefly, sometimes for decades—into soldiers. It’s also equipment, food, supplies, housing, bureaucracy, codes, lingo, power. It’s killing. War is boredom. War requires that families separate and relationships go on hold—for long stretches of time. War requires induction. The military is its own universe, as a thousand books and movies have made clear.
In highly-detailed portraits of three women shipped off to war, Soldier Girls lets us walk in the boots of Michelle Fischer, Debbie Helton and Desma Brooks as they each strike a bargain with the world—and the military—for unique, personal reasons. Soldier Girls transforms the generic term “soldier” into highly specific human beings with hopes, dreams, struggles and reasons to join up.
Thorpe spent four years interviewing these women, covering the details and getting them right. The specifics give Soldier Girls its weight, its three-dimensional insights. Generalities are devoured by the razor teeth of particulars.
“Michelle had saved up $1,300 for an apartment in Bloomington. Instead, she ordered kegs of Killian’s Irish Red and threw a party, took friends out to dinner, bought her mother a new bed. She also took out a large life insurance policy and wrote a will leaving everything to her mother.”
“In her (Debbie’s) civilian life, she managed a beauty salon inside a department store at one end of a shopping mall. The department store was called L.S. Ayres. Debbie lived in Bloomington, Indiana, where she had grown up and was raising her daughters . . . On the morning of September 11, 2001, Debbie left her house around nine, as the drive to Indy took roughly an hour. At about 9:15 a.m. she was heading northeast on Highway 37 in the gold 1990 Cavalier she had bought used after she had enlisted in the Guard, and could finally afford a vehicle, listening to the Bob & Tom Show. A person had to have a sick sense of humor to enjoy the syndicated comedy show, but it was Debbie’s main source of news.”
“Desma was extraordinarily bright, and before she finished elementary school, she devoured The Secret Garden and Little Women. Later she raced through Oliver Twist and The Raven. The books spirited her away from her surroundings and shielded her from her mother’s rage.”
Thorpe shows us the politics—or lack thereof. She let us in on their relationships, bank accounts, extended families, and decisions about how each of these three women react to offers and temptations of all kind. We see them re-shape themselves, mentally and physically. War requires transformation. We see them learn new skills, such as learning to repair assault rifles. Thorpe shows us their willingness to toe the line or buck the system. We see the women as they manage sleep, cope with dread and look for love and physical intimacy. We see them manage family business by remote control—from thousands of miles away—via email and telephone. We learn their preferences in music, food and alcohol. We see them feud and we see them figure out ways to make do. And, even though they mostly are assigned to support roles, one hair-raising moment brings one of these women extremely close to losing her life.
If going to war is brutal, the return trip might be worse. And here is where the accumulated minutia of the opening chapters pays off as the women return to the old landscapes and familiar haunts and try to regain their footing in the world.
About the role of women in the military, Thorpe retains her role as reporter and never shifts to dispenser of opinion. Can they handle the work? Can the military culture handle the sexual complications? Thorpe never loses patience. The narrative doesn’t rush to closure. Awkward moments are allowed to be just that. Returning requires recalibration. War’s toll is in the dead and wounded. It’s also in the altered psyches of those who appear whole upon return. War builds character? Sure. And if so, Helen Thorpe’s powerful Soldier Girls shows that women—at least these three—are up to the task.