Buckeye Firearms Association Patriot Profiles: Sgt. Joyce

by Clint Lake

This is the first in a monthly series letting BFA supporters tell their unique and compelling stories about how they were introduced to firearms, how firearms and the 2nd Amendment effected their lives, and how they left their own personal impression on the American heritage of gun ownership.

My goal is to help those of us fighting the fight to never forget those that have come before us, to help invigorate our spirits and to learn from you. If you would like to have your story considered please email me at [email protected]. All names can be kept confidential and only first names or alias will be used - which ever one you wish.

FYI, if you are a WWII or Korean vet and have a firearms story or a story about your service you will go to the front of the line.

MARCH PATRIOT PROFILE: SGT Joyce

SGT Joyce proudly served in the WACs during the later stages of Vietnam. She was a big fan of Dwight Eisenhower when she was 8 years-old, as pictured below holding her grandpa's Remington .32-.20 that she shot for the first time when she was 13.

I was the first female soldier at Fort Ord (maybe the first female soldier ever) to pull armed pay guard! A civilian friend in Personnel told me my name was on a levy for Vietnam, just as things were winding down over there. At the time, the WAC basic training was very basic, with no firearms qualifications and only one overnight bivouac. The Army was sending women to 'Nam not knowing one end of a piece from another. It's no wonder a lot of them came back with PTSD. I went to my duty commander at the Supply School (where I worked as the supply sergeant, handling expendable and non-expendable supplies for the school, running inventory, and soaking up the ol' makee-learnee from the higher-grade sergeants) and asked him if I might go out for qualifying fire? He thought that was a good idea, so two afternoons in a row the following week, I was out on the firing range with the shavetail lieutenants.

I made "Sharpshooter" with the Army issue .45 and "Marksman" with the M-16. I was a lot less confident with the 1911 than I was with the rifle; I had learned to fire a rifle in my childhood (and learned that firearms are not toys!) but never thought I could hit the ground with a dropped pistol. The gunnery sergeant, seeing my discomfort, gave me some special instruction and lo and behold, I did a good job on-target with the pistol.

A few days later, my name was dropped from that personnel levy; in fact, they had canceled the whole list. So here I was, qualified on weapons (and in my spare time, taking armory lessons from Gunny) and no place to use one! But a couple of weeks later, the specialist E-5 who ordinarily pulled pay guard had night duty -- and I was tapped for pay guard! (Was I shocked? Well, yes. Women in the Army didn't ordinarily handle weapons circa the early 1970s; there were few to no lady MPs back then either.) I was issued a Jeep, a 1911 with three rounds of ammo, and orders to shoot to maim if there were any incidents.

I picked up Lt. Brown in Officer's Country and we proceeded to draw the payroll. I stood at parade rest with my right hand on the butt of the pistol, a little behind and to one side of the lieutenant while our troops lined up for their money. Once everyone was paid, we needed to go to the infirmary to pay two casuals -- students who had been injured in training. There were three lines of new troops along the hospital wall, waiting for their mandatory vaccinations -- and I could feel the eyeballs click and hear the whispers up and down the line: "You see that woman? She has a gun!" I never even turned my head; it was my duty to guard Lt. Brown.

After he paid those two casuals, it was chow time. And now: those Army issue 1911s never jam under any circumstances, right? Wrong... (chuckle) I pushed, pulled, yanked and dragged on that weapon to open the slide and clear it before we went into the mess hall. Of course there were more troops lined up, and the whispers went "Ah, that woman can't clear her weapon," among more snide remarks. They shut up when I handed the piece to Lt. Brown -- and he ultimately had to fire the chambered round into the bunker!

Of course I then had to fill out about a mile of paperwork as to why "I" had fired that round. But it was a memorable day. As a soldier, I swore to "Protect and defend." I still hold to my oath.