I had taken an extra hour to get dressed, ensuring that my navy blue suit hung correctly by all accounts I looked smart. I could feel the butterflies in my stomach as I ascended the grand steps of the JDF Headquarters. I had only sent in an application a few weeks ago, and received a call asking me to attend an interview. The secretary seated outside the main office directed me to enter. The office was long and narrow and seated at the end was a tall, medium built officer. I could feel a bead of sweat trickling down my inside seam; my hands were clammy. I nervously took a seat at the opposite end of the mahogany desk.
" So you would like a career in the army? Any particular area?"
" Infantry, Sir."
" Infantry!"
" Yes the infantry,
I get seasick and flying never fascinated me, so infantry it is."
"Well you know, there are no women in the infantry, but the army is changing, you can never tell."  
My introduction to Newcastle, the training depot was sheer hell. The first 24 hours, I jumped ditches filled with barbed wire, climbed 12 feet walls, jumped off ten-foot planks, scrambled under barbed wire and crawled through tunnels. I ran until I wished I would collapse. But I didn’t.
Two months later, I began my basic officer training at the Royal Military Academy, Sandhurst. Things were changing there as well, as training was now integrated and men and women were trained side by side. Yes! As females we found the training challenging and difficult at times, but never impossible. Our inter platoon competitions were never about beating the guys, but rather doing the best and giving it one hundred and one per cent always. If we beat them it was great, if we didn’t, we had given it our best shot. Of the 33 females that started, only 16 were commissioned one year later. I had survived.

I returned geared up, ready to conquer the world, after all I was infantry trained. I had been on course with three other male officer cadets. On reporting to the JDF HQ, we were given our postings. Two were posted to the First Battalion Jamaica Regiment and the other to the Second Battalion Jamaica Regiment, and me? to the Support and Services Battalion, as the Assistant Adjutant. I was to find out later, that the only persons ever to hold that position had all been female officers, and that no such post existed on the establishment of the battalion.

Frustrated and angry, I felt I had been cheated of the opportunity to command. So when the opportunity arose for me to be the reserve officer for a five-mile combat march followed by a combat shoot, I grabbed it. For four weeks I was a platoon commander. I trained, ate and lived with the men on the range; looked after their administration and disciplined them when necessary. The combat shoot was never a problem as I was a good shot. It was the five-mile route from the Caymanas Polo Club through Sufferers Heights to Twickenham Park Range that was miserable especially at ten o’clock in the morning. Dressed in combat order, boots, webbing, helmet, combats and rifle; this was no pleasure jog through the Caymanas Hills. Tears rolled down my cheeks when I crossed the finish line. I don’t know if I was glad I had completed the run or that I had realised that I would have to do it again at least ten more times before the competition. The route had taken everything I had.

The march was to be completed in 50 minutes. My fastest time was fifty-three minutes, so I was axed, one week before the competition.

Yes, all my postings have been administrative, sitting behind a desk supporting the troops that are on the streets day and night. I have come to realise that the army isn’t just about being an infanteer; it’s about service. Not where you serve, but how you serve; always ensuring that you give one hundred and one percent. Although some women have crossed the barrier and have served as technicians, air traffic controllers, pilots, engineers and able seamen, a large majority still hold ‘traditional female jobs’. There are still no women in the infantry; but then again, the army is changing.