Darkness filled the tiny, dingy room. One dull light bulb emitted a yellow haze over the men and women crammed into the room. Glowing under the light like a restless ghost stood the training commander. The whites of his eyes flashed from under the shadow of his helmet as he spoke. “Welcome to NBC [Nuclear, Biological and Chemical] training,” he said with a slightly malicious grin. “Today you will learn how to use a gas mask and what the consequences of not using it properly are. Gas mask on, now.”
Lori Heleva felt her heart pounding against her chest as she buried her small face into the mask and secured the straps over her thick blonde ponytail. Slowly, a new, invisible presence began to seep into the room. Heleva’s hands began to itch from the unseen menace. Then they burned. Her skin became both fire and sandpaper. She struggled to keep her shaking hands from scratching her face, her legs anything and everything that itched, burned and stung.
“This is only tear gas, made from a high concentration of chlorine,” the instructor said. “In a war, it would be mustard gas, and you would be dead.”
Once the room was saturated with the burning chlorine gas, the instructor issued a new order. “Gas masks off,” he said.
Heleva savored her last breath of pure air before holding her breath and removing the mask. Without the mask, her eyes and nose began to water, protesting the cruel chemical. She thought of the stories she had heard about this training exercise. Large, strong men would break into tears and collapse from the pain and fear inflected by the invisible gas.
“One…two…three…” the instructor counted to ensure that most of the officers were no longer holding their breaths.
Then he blocked the only exit. Each man or woman must say or do what the
officer commanded before escaping into the refreshing clean air of the outdoors.
“Sing the alphabet,” he ordered the man two ahead of Heleva.
“Count to 20,” he told another.
It was Heleva’s turn. She was still holding her breath and praying that what he asked of her would be brief.
“Name, rank and serial number,” he barked.
As one word, Heleva answered, “Lori-Heleva-petty-officer-39872423-U.S. Navy.”
“Start running,” the instructor said as he stepped away from the door.
Heleva ran. She ran away from that horrible, dark room. She ran away from the pain and the burning. She ran into the sunlight, the wind and the clean, sweet, fresh air. As she ran, water flowed freely from her eyes and her nose. She paused only to grab a handful of tissues offered to her. This was not what Heleva expected when she joined the Navy.
Heleva’s job and military life began one June day in 1994, when Heleva left home for boot camp. She was only 17 years old, just out of high school, when her mother drove her to the bus stop. As they waited for the bus, her mother repeated for the tenth time that day, “Lori, you don’t have to go.” Then to herself, she muttered, “I’ll never forgive your father for signing that permission form.” Heleva’s mother and father had been divorced since she was 4 years old. Her mother wanted Heleva to accept a scholarship for the prestigious, out-of-state college that she had received.
But Heleva had decided to join the Navy. Ever since her college of choice did not accept her, Heleva refused to consider other colleges. Besides, she could not decide what career to pursue. The Navy allowed her to use her time of indecision productively, and it paid well. Many people Heleva respected, including her grandfather and her brother, were already in the Navy.
The bus to take Heleva to boot camp finally arrived. She kissed her mother goodbye and boarded, leaving her hometown, Alpena, Mich. The journey from Michigan to boot camp in Orlando, Fla. was long and exhausting.
When the bus reached the camp, an instructor stepped on board; his thick, muscular body filled the aisle as he glared at the new recruits. Immediately, he issued orders, hotly peppered with insults. Heleva’s first three hours of boot camp consisted of running, yelling, being yelled at and degraded by the trainers. “What have I gotten myself into?” she thought wearily.
As the weeks went by, Heleva began to adjust to the physical activity as her body hardened. But Heleva never adjusted to the revolting food served at the camp. She drank few fluids and ate even less while laboring all day under the oppressive Florida heat. The malnutrition began to affect her health. One day, during bunk inspections, Heleva’s legs buckled under her. As she lost consciousness, her body stiffened. When her eyes opened again, she saw was her commander leaning over her worriedly repeating, “Are you O.K.? Are you O.K.?”
“ I’m so sorry,” Heleva said, with embarrassment. “I’m so sorry.”
“ Shut up,” her commander responded. “Are you O.K.?”
Heleva recovered quickly and returned to her training. While at boot camp, Heleva was the yeoman, or secretary for the Honor Guard. She also carried the P.O.W. flag in the graduation ceremonies.
Since Heleva participated in the Honor Guard and recruited several cadets, she graduated from boot camp as a Seaman, a level E-3 position, rather than an E-1 rank (the lowest rank). She graduated from boot camp on August 10, 1994, her 18th birthday. Her class was one of the last to be trained in Orlando, Fla., before the Navy closed the camp.
After boot camp, Heleva attended Personnelman A-school in Meridian, Miss. from August to October 1994. A-school was a mini college designed to train the Navy enlisted ranks their jobs. The students spent their days in class and studying. In the evenings, they were free to enjoy themselves. On base there was a dance club, a bowling alley and even horseback riding.
While she was at A-school, Heleva discovered something about men in the Navy – they will not hesitate to propose to a woman. During those four months, she received three proposals. One young man fell adamantly in love with Heleva after having met her two days earlier. At the end of those two glorious days, he passionately invited her into the rest of his life. Another man patiently waited a week before he, too, proposed. Heleva accepted none of these proposals.
Later, she began to causally date Bill DeWitt, another student in A-school. One night, they went out to the club on base. There to an audience of friends, acquaintances and strangers, DeWitt knelt in front of Heleva, asking her to marry him. She froze, like a deer in headlights. She could not refuse him here in front of everyone. She would just say “yes” now and then straighten things out later. So, Heleva accepted DeWitt. Almost immediately after the proposal, DeWitt was sent home after completing training. She was unable to break the engagement with DeWitt until he flew out to see her a month and a half later to her home in Michigan, after Lori’s completion of her school and when she took leave. When they were finally together, she explained to him that she could not marry him.
After her leave, Heleva was sent to Naval Submarine Base New London in Groton, Conn. She was at the base from November 1994 to November 1996. Groton was home to fast-attack submarines. On base, Heleva worked as a Personnelman. Her job was to care for the enlisted and officer’s service records, which capture a sailor’s life on paper. Everything is included in the service record: the enlisted men’s contracts, their dependents, their qualifications, training, pay and awards.
During the first year, Heleva encountered many problems and differences with her boss. “Despite many changes, there are still some men in the military who believe a woman’s place is in the house, barefoot and pregnant,” Heleva said. Her boss was one of these men. He refused to trust Heleva. He would continually check over Heleva’s work, believing that she could not do it. He belittled her whenever possible, criticizing all of her work and assigning only to simple, childish tasks.
Once, he demanded that Heleva file a huge stack of papers. She could not leave the office until the job was done. The amount of work given to her was enough to keep her in the office until the next morning. Another co-worker noticed her struggling to complete her work in time and began to help her. When her boss saw him helping her, he became angry. “Leave her alone,” he said. “She’s supposed to finish filing by herself.”
Another leading petty officer of her bosses rank over heard him. He gave Heleva’s boss a strange look as if to ask, “You can’t be serious.” Later, he reported Heleva’s boss, who was then reprimanded harshly for his actions.
While at Groton, Heleva met Dave Davis and Jason Goshorn, nicknamed “Goose.” Both men worked on the submarine, U.S.S. Trepang. The three of them became close friends. In fact, they were together so much that other people began to call them the “Three Amigos.” The other servicemen on the submarine began to tease Goshorn and Davis about Heleva, asking, “So, which of you is going to date Lori?”
Instead of dating either of them, Heleva began to see Todd Heleva. After dating for three months, he proposed. Finally, Heleva truly accepted a proposal. They were married by a justice of the peace in Groton on Feb. 27, 1995.
Groton was on the border with Rhode Island and affectionately named “Rotten Groton” by the enlisted men and women who lived there. Despite the unpromising nickname, Heleva enjoyed her time on the base. She and her friends would visit Boston or swim at the beach on weekends. They explored all of New England.
On Saturday July 6, 1996, Goshorn invited Heleva and Davis to join him at a club. Both Davis and Heleva were on-duty that night and turned him down. Goshorn was disappointed but refused to let his friends’ responsibilities ruin his weekend. He and some other men went out to the club instead.
Late that night, Heleva received a call as the personnel-on-duty from Davis. “Lori, who’s on duty? Who’s on duty?” he asked frantically.
“I am,” Heleva responded.
Davis paused for a moment, as if to think. Then he said, “I need to speak to the duty leader.”
“What’s wrong, Dave?” Heleva asked, concerned, but Davis refused to tell her what had happened.
The next morning, Heleva called Davis. “Will you tell me what happened now?” she asked.
Davis took a deep breath and answered her slowly, “It’s Jason.”
Jason Goshorn died Sunday, July 7, 1996. He and a friend were riding with the bouncer at the club. The bouncer, their designated driver, had also been drinking. The tiny car was soaring along the highway at 110 mph when it slammed into a concrete overpass. Goshorn died on impact.
Heleva did not go to work the next day. Instead, she and Davis attended Goshorn’s memorial service.
Heleva dreaded returning to the office. When a man dies, his service record has to be closed and a Certificate of Discharge issued. Heleva’s job included preparing the paperwork for the deceased. But at the office, all of Goshorn’s paperwork was gone. She later discovered that her leading petty officer completed Goshorn’s Certificate of Discharge to protect Heleva.
Heleva only spent a few more months in Groton. In November 1996, she and her husband were relocated to Camp Pendleton, Cal. where her husband joined the 1st FSSG Medical Battalion. Heleva worked in the military human resource office at Naval Hospital, Camp Pendleton and was also assigned to the mobile Fleet Hospital 6. This hospital was completely portable. In 24 hours, it could be packed and traveling to any place on earth.
Her first year at the hospital was challenging. Heleva’s co-workers treated her as an outsider. And to some of them, she was an outsider. Most of her co-workers were corpsmen with medical training, but Heleva worked for the Military Personnel Management Department or “admin.” She was from the East Coast, and they were from the West.
Soon, Heleva’s office work changed. Many of her co-workers were relocated or left the Navy. Most of the corpsmen left and more admin type personnel moved into the office. The hostile atmosphere was transformed into a relaxed, enjoyable workplace.
Heleva’s position also changed. When she first arrived at Camp Pendleton, she held the lowest position possible. By the end of her time at the base, she had two to three people directly underneath her. Some days she commanded eight or nine men.
In April 1998, while Heleva was still in California, she was required to participate in a war simulation exercise. She and the rest of the hospital traveled to a nearby desert where the dazzling sun, searing heat and desolate wasteland resembled conditions in the Middle East.
The war games began soon afterwards. Instructors twisted turbans around their heads and fired blanks into the air from the machine guns. Snipers killed men with pretend bullets, and invisible helicopters provided air support.
Part way through the “attack,” Heleva’s tent was blown up. She and two other men were the only survivors. Heleva did not sleep for the next 48 hours. She handled the radio, called for air support and ran the admin tent almost entirely by herself. Once during the exhausting exercise, Heleva peeked into the tent demolished by the imaginary bomb. Inside, all of the dead men were playing cards.
That was the closest Heleva came to combat. She left the Navy in November 1999, before President George W. Bush declared war on Iraq. Lori Heleva decided to join her husband, who had already left the Navy and was living in Pennsylvania.
Once in Pennsylvania, Heleva began searching for work. Mack Trucks, Inc. employed her as an administrative assistant in the Corporate Communications department in Janurary 2000. She still works for Mack today. But simply working a job was not enough; Heleva was determined to complete her education. In September of 2001, she took classes at Lehigh County Community College, and then transferred and has now graduated from Rosemont College.
In 2002, Heleva accepted another challenge. On a whim, she entered the Mrs. Pennsylvania United States pageant. To her surprise, she won Mrs. Lehigh County. From that day, she caught “the itch” for pageants. Even after her divorce in 2003, she continued to compete. Today, Heleva reigns as “Ms. Pennsylvania United States.” She will compete nationally this year in Orlando, Fla.
In a small apartment across from the Whitehall Mall lives a ex-Navy petty officer, a beauty pageant winner, a humanitarian and an animal lover. The name card beside the doorbell says “Roger,” but if you ring the bell, the only person who will answer is Lori Heleva. To her, as it should be to anyone, that is enough.
Becky Straw is a senior at Lehigh University. She is studying abroad this semester and her hometown is Havre De Grace, Md.