A Personal Profile

MARIA ELENA BERNAL de BARRE

The Stolen Glory of Los Californianos. Maria Elena was born in Elsa, Texas, near the Texas-Mexican border. She speaks English, Spanish, and with her husband's help, a smattering of French. She started writing in 2006 after the loss of her beloved husband. Writing about her loss was too painful, so for the next few years, she decided to write about what she knew, and that led her to capture some of her father's historias and cuentos. Her writing includes prose, poetry, historical essays, and real-life narratives illustrating racial or social injustice, but her strength seems to be memoir writing. She has an innate ability to transport the reader to events describing her childhood in the cotton fields of Texas, her life with her loved ones, as well as anecdotes and suspenseful short stories about the present. Maria Elena is a natural storyteller. Among her many contributions to the group, Maria Elena manages to achieve a balance in her critiques that are astute and insightful while at the same time, warm and supportive. Maria belongs to the San Bruno Creative Writer's Group, and the CWC, California Writer's Club. With help from these two groups, she has been able to write several short stories and poems: Aztec Princess, The Rising Sun, I Come From, Shadows by a Window, and an essay A Mother's Despair. She is in the process of finding a publisher for her novel,

May La Tejanita Cotton Princess Joins the Army

Maria Elena Barr Never in my wildest dreams would I have believed that my lifelong wish to get an education would land me in the United States Army. Working in the cotton fields my one wish had always been to get an education and like the Mystical Bird in my father’s stories I dreamt of flying off to faraway places, or at least out of the cotton fields.

One thing that I like about myself is my desire to do good. My dream of getting an education was to be able to help my family. For as long as I can remember, I tried to help my parents. Working alongside them in the fields when our cotton was weighed, the patrón jotted the numbers from the scale into a small brown pocket tablet. When we shopped at the local marketa, the owner would jot our purchases down to be paid when the cotton season came around. When I got my report, card sprinkled with Fs and Ds, and with slash marks across the months that I was not in school, my mom would want to know why.

“Saul, have we picked a hundred yet? Saul, how come we owe so much for groceries? I try to buy only what we need! Maria, what do these slashes and Fs and Ds mean?” Watching my dad’s puzzled look on his face, unable to answer Mom’s questions made me realize that one of us had to learn to read and write. Not able to attend school often and no one around to teach me, learning was a slow process. After siting up nights studying by the kerosene lamp, I was finally able to write down our figures on our own tablet and calculate what we owed the grocer, more importantly what was owed to us. The slashes and Fs and Ds on my report card were too shameful for me to explain. I did not want Mom to lose her faith in me if I told her the truth. The years went by, but my wish to learn had not diminished, though the manifestation of this wish into a reality was fading day by day. I had graduated the year before and had gotten a good job at a local granary, but my mom’s refusal to let me socialize made it hard for me to show up at a job that required me to be helpful and friendly to all the customers, especially the important farmers and merchants in the area. I stayed home, too embarrassed to show up for work. The days crept by. Watching my dad put in the seed for the next year’s crop, I decided my dream of an education, like the Mystical Bird was an illusion. My wish for an education, began to fade, until one day, the only teacher that had cared about me and helped me to graduate came to our house and told me about an Army Recruitment Event near my high school. The next day I borrowed my dad’s truck and drove to the location and enlisted in the United States Army. The female

recruiter picked me up at the ranch the next day and we drove to San Antonio, Texas where I passed all the exams to qualify. Pronounced physically, medically, and morally

fit, I proudly took the oath. “I Maria Elena Bernal do solemnly swear to support and defend the Constitution of the United States against all enemies foreign. and domestic…….”

Shortly after that I flew to Fort McClellan Alabama for basic training. I was surprised at how many women were in my platoon when we started, however the strenuous regiment was too hard for some so they left before completing the course. A daily two, to three, mile run, while holding gas masks and a simulated weapon, followed by a regiment of push-ups, crunches and other physical exercises had been a challenge for me too, but I persevered. The war in Vietnam by late 1964 became more dangerous after the Gulf of Tonkin incident. President Lyndon B. Johnson and the experts believed the war was going to get much worse. Consequently, most of our Basic Training focused on reconnaissance and rescue. We practiced swinging on a rope from one building to another or walk on a small pipe to practice reaching a soldier that was injured. After my basic training at Fort McClellan, I was given an assignment to the Presidio of San Francisco, however, before leaving I was called to the Commander’s office. One of the Wacs who originally came from San Francisco was pregnant and I was asked to change my destination to Fort Benjamin Harrison so she could be near to her parents in San Francisco. Arriving at Fort Benjamin Harrison in Indianapolis, Indiana, I was assigned to attend several college courses on Army Policies and Regulations and given special assignment to assist families of soldiers being sent to Vietnam with financial , housing and childcare programs and resources. To prepare me for my assignment I attended Finance and Accounting Courses. I was happy in the Army. My wish to get an education had come true, not the way I had wished, but here I was in a classroom full of men and women with one goal, to learn to serve. My habit of getting up early, making my bed, shining my shoes and cleaning my area made me a favorite with my superiors. In class I also tried to do my best and studied afterwards to be prepared for my next day classes. From the beginning I was chosen to be a platoon leader and given an opportunity to attend Officer Candidate School. I was on my way to building a career in the Army, until one evening I attended a nightclub dance, with the singer of the orchestra playing that night, along with two other girlfriends. We were sitting down listening to the music when someone tapped me on the shoulder. “May I have this dance?” “No Thank you.”