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Ambassador of Laughter returns from Military Comedy Tour
March 2006
Sheila Van Dyke has, what some would say, is an unusual job. She is a full time stand up comedienne. Most recently, she was honored at being one of the few comedians chosen by a talent agency to entertain our troops stationed in Bosnia, Kosovo, Sarajevo, Germany, Krygzstan and Afghanistan. While in Germany, Sheila was the opening act for the award-winning band Staind, who is originally from Springfield, MA. The purpose of the military comedy tour, is to lift the spirits and morale of the men and women of our US Armed Forces who are stationed in regions, far away from home, where there may be heightened threat conditions. Sheila received numerous Military Certificates of Appreciation as well as Military Coins of Excellence for her outstanding support of our troops by raising their morale to the highest possible level.
“It was not just another Monday. I awake early and tuned on the news. Right away I heard the voice of the late Martin Luther King, Jr. “I have a dream”. I popped into the shower, thinking about my dreams and ambitions working in the world of Stand Up Comedy. I had an early morning visit with a dear friend whom I was celebrating a 20th anniversary with, my gynecologist. As always, we had the conversation about kids and my life as a comedian. In the doctor’s parking lot, my cell phone rang in a call from California. A talent agent called to offer me the opportunity to go on a military comedy tour, performing for our troops on bases in Bosnia, Kosovo, Germany, Krygzstan and Afghanistan. Without hesitation, I said yes! My first Military Comedy Tour, my dream come true! The travel was exhilarating and exhausting. Packing for such a trip was challenging. I quickly realized that when in a war torn country, I didn’t need a cocktail dress, high heel shoes or 47 pairs of underwear! So much for being prissy! Our first stop was in the Balkans. The military’s MWR (Morale, Welfare and Recreation Department) plays a large role in hosting entertainers for our troops and scheduling show times and locations. When we arrived at the airport in Kosovo, an MWR manager greeted us. Once outside, we were surrounded by armed military guards, who escorted us to vehicles waiting to take us to base. I traveled by tour bus, up the snow covered mountains of Kosovo and Bosnia. One of the drivers was a hearty German whom we called Rudy, also known as Road Rage Rudy. He spoke very good English and even better German when other drivers got in his way! In most areas in the Balkans we traveled with armed military escort vehicles stationed in the front and rear of our tour bus. Along the way, the ruins of towns that were ravaged by war was the theme for sightseeing. On occasion, the military escorts would pull over and ask our tour bus driver for directions! “Got GPS” was my favorite slogan attached to those young bucks. While at Bondsteel, I realized my poop shoot was broken. In all of the excitement of travel, my body would not eliminate waste! As I ventured toward the hospital, I was leary about telling them my problem, I didn’t want to seem like a weak person. But, I felt really bad, so this constipated comedian commenced to reveal her secret to a very helpful Med Supply Sgt who took me to the right people. That night in the latrine, I experience desperate lower GI pain; I was making noises like a wounded animal in the woods. Down the line lived Albanian nationals who worked on base. Suddenly, a knock came at the latrine door, “are you OK Miss”, in broken English echoed in. The only thing that I could say, was OK. They didn’t speak very good English. How was I supposed to or should I even attempt to explain to them that my poop shoot was broken (the remainder of this joke is only told to select audiences) like the other women on base who were experiencing the same thing! The next morning, I was approached by one of the cigar smoking, high rankers, who had heard of my aliment. He asked why I did a show for them in such a terrible condition. I told him that nothing could stop me, besides my mouth wasn’t broken. We performed at five bases in the Balkans, including NATO headquarters. At each base, an amusing attempt at writing jokes about their environments was a welcomed element. Each base had just a little something special to talk about. At one particular base, the Statue of Liberty actually had the face of an Asian woman. Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Lo Mein for those soldiers! The NATO base hosts military from 28 countries. Trying to translate hillbilly jokes, hysterical and well received. Being called Bella, priceless!! Butmuir is where I actually realized how much stress is melted away with laughter, thanks to LTC Ross, AKA Shriek, who allowed me to be myself onstage and encouraged bantering that helped his people relax!! I was tickled to find out that on the majority of bases that I visited in the Balkans, the 36th Infantry Division from Texas had a large presence, yeehaw.
Our living quarters were different at each base. Some were “storage unit” type rooms, barracks and tents. The barracks were the nicest since the bathrooms and showers were located inside. But, when living in a tent or a “unit”, the bathrooms and showers were, sometimes, a good distance to walk. Every base has an outstanding dining facility or DFAC. It reminded me of a “Hilton Buffet”. Of course, I would sometimes notice ‘mystery meat” and compared it to a blind date, some things just need to remain a mystery.
As I boarded the plane headed to Germany, I remembered the insignia on the certificate presented to me by NATO. “Deeds Not Words”. On the plane, in front of me sat a mother with two small children. Speaking their native language, Albanian, I didn’t understand what the little girl was saying, but she was smiling and laughing. I looked at her and just began to clap my hands and sing “three little monkeys”. Delighted by this, she left her seat and come to sit next to me. She promptly held up her foot to show me that her boot was broken, it wouldn’t zip. I knew I could fix it. I took the boot off of her foot; her mother didn’t understand what I was doing. I looked around for someone to translate. When her mother approved, I approached a stewardess and asked for a pair of scissors so that I could cut a piece of wire from my spiral notebook. This was serious. By no means were they going to give me scissors, until I explained exactly what I was doing. There was a formal presentation of the scissors in front of most of the cabin. Everyone watched as I cut the piece of wire and handed the scissors back to the stewardess. In front of the whole cabin, I stood there, threading the wire thru the zipper mechanism. I needed pliers to press down the wire firmly, but used the base of a lock instead. I wrapped the wire with medical tape and gave the boot back to the little girl. She inspected the new zipper loop and giggled and wiggled in amazement when I showed her how it worked.
She promptly gave the boot to her mother and she turned and gave me a nod of approval. When we landed, a plain clothed service man thanked me for fixing the boot; I just looked at him and said “Deeds Not Word”.
At the Army Garrison in Mannheim, there was a huge “Welcome Home” ceremony for those troops that had been deployed in Iraq and Afghanistan for the past year. The main event for this celebration was the band Staind. The event was held in a huge tent, almost the size of a football field. As I slipped into the side door, literally because it was snowing heavily, the rush of being the opening act finally hit me. Backstage the band members, Aaron Lewis, Mike Mushok, Johnny April and John Wysocki were checking instruments and the song list for the show. As I opened the show, I realized that I would now have a stain that could never come out! After the autograph signing and picture taking, one of the soldiers approached me and said, “I bet opening for Staind was the highlight of your tour”, I said, no darlin’, the highlight is entertaining our troops in Afghanistan. So after a good nights sleep, I hopped a plane and headed to my final destination.
When some of my kinfolk in Virginia found out that I was going to Afghanistan, they immediately became scared for me. “Sheila, what if you get abducted”. I told them that aliens have never been sited in Afghanistan, only down south!
I was given the name “Shotgun Sheila” from the United States Air Force Chinook pilots who allowed me to ride in the center seat at the front of the aircraft. During one flight, suddenly the pilot says, “we’re being rocked, left gunner check the mountain side”. Sure enough, someone was standing on top of one of those mountains, throwing rocks. Jokingly, I told the pilot to land the craft because those little ol boys needed a whoopin for throwin rocks. Tryin to keep it light. We glided over the moon lite mountains of Afghanistan, arriving at a base located “down range” late into the night.
This particular base was very basic, unlike the bases that we had been on where there were multiple places for activities like karaoke, movie theatres,
Burger King, places to play pool, video games. Only the basic necessities are necessary to insure that the soldiers are completely geared toward their missions, peacekeeping efforts. We arrived too late at this base to do a show. I got settled into my sleeping quarters and was abruptly awakened by the sounds of mortars, missiles and aircraft. I jumped out of my bunk, one boot on, the sleeping bag wrapped around my body and found the nearest soldier with a weapon…and dove in his bunk, placing my hands on his face, shaking him, asking him what was going on. He just opened his eyes and said, .”go back to sleep”. No siren sounded telling us the hit the bunkers. This was a normal activity. The base goes hot, meaning that they are doing target practice. Well, of course, I couldn’t go back to sleep. So, I waited for daylight. All of the bases down range are “no lights at night”, for safety reasons. It is very strange to see the soldiers walking on base in complete darkness, only the moonlight and a small blue pin light. I was very impressed at the fact that they knew their way around so well in the dark, I get lost driving to Wal-Mart in the dark. When daybreak came, I decided to find the showers. As I walked toward the water tower, knowing that where there is water, there is a shower, I saw a row of armor plated hummvees and a scurry of soldiers packing their gear inside of them. I approached them and asked if they were going to Disney Land. “No Mame”, replied a young soldier from the 87th Infantry Division, “we’re going on mission”. Eager and determined, multiple soldiers were getting extra gas, checking radios and gear, as I stood there telling jokes.
I knew exactly what they were doing the moment I saw them. Three soldiers were bragging about their positions, gunners on top of the vehicles. A larger crowd gathered as I began belting out jokes about any subject that would appeal to them. Laughter on their faces as I held back my emotions, my heart urged me to just be silly. After autographs and pictures, I stepped to the side and continued just to watch. Walking toward us came the Chaplin, smearing sun screen all over his bald head. He was going on this mission with them. He carried no weapon, only a Bible. Soon, approximately 12 soldiers from the Afghan Army arrived. These soldiers were traveling in the back of a Toyota pickup truck, no cavalar vests, no helmets. It reminded me of a bunch of rednecks going to a football game, without the beer. The vehicle takes its place in between two of our armored vehicles. The vehicles are completely loaded with soldiers and supplies, all engines were running. The Base Commanders are huddled together, stern faces, verbally reviewing the mission. The convoy slowly exits the gates, as the Commanders stand silently watching. I didn’t take a shower; instead, I went to the DFAC (dining facility) for a cup of coffee. Just as soon as I walked in the door, one of the General’s approached me and palmed me the Task Force Catamount’s Military Coin of Excellence. I politely thanked him as I could only think about the soldiers that had just left. I retreated to the corner, where my back was to the room, fixing a cup of coffee and crying. Pulling myself together, as I turned to tell jokes to the men scattered about the room, several soldiers thanked me for being there. I had been in the DFAC several times during my few short hours at their base, doing “table comedy” for anyone who was sitting there. I couldn’t help but to say that I did not feel like I deserved that coin. It belonged to the courageous men who just went outside the wire. Those soldiers assured me that I did. They told me that they had been trained on how to kill and be killed and I had not. OH.yes I have, I exclaimed. I was married for 18 years. And the jokes just flowed.
A tap on the shoulder, it was my next Chinook ride, time to go to another base. This ride was during the day. I was able to actually see the villages and mountains. There is hardly any grass in Afghanistan. The homes are all built within walls. We watched a farmer herd his cattle, but there was no water to be seen. The pilots were so very serious on this ride. The Chinook flies very low and is very easily seen during daylight. Each time we were flying over a vehicle below, the gunners would have their weapons pointed right at them. And each time we would land, the pilots would congratulate each other, for surviving. Shortly after arrival at base, I found out that four soldiers had been killed.
While on bases in Afghanistan, I visited hospitals where the most innocent lay wounded by mines and bombs that had been left in the countryside where the children play. I was taken on a tour, inside the wire, to view the bombed out homes where Afghan people live without electricity or running water. While visiting a look out post, high above the base, I was shown bombs that were just lying on the ground in a field, outside the base. One was actually sticking up out of the ground. A sheepherder was minding his flock in this field; one of the sheep actually walked over to the protruding bomb and rubbed its body upon it. I stood there in horror, watching and screaming at that daggone sheep to stop. The soldiers just laughed and told me that it happens almost daily! 80% of the patients in the military hospitals are local national children. Daily, local Afghanistan children lose limbs, eyes and life because of unexploded ordinances that are sometimes mistaken for shiny toys or unknowingly walked upon. Although maimed and in pain, the eyes of the children smiled at me as I visited with each one. The doctor’s allowed me to “suit up” and watch as they closed the wound of a 10-year-old boy, where his hand once was. When the tour first began in the Balkans, I had met a woman by the name of Fatima. She was hired as a translator and was visiting all the bases where her services would be needed. She had just arrived at the camp where I was, so I found her and asked if she would go back to the hospital with me, along with the Chaplin, to visit the children. We talked to everyone there, adults and children alike. As we stood over the bed of a 25-year-old Afghan male, Fatima began to cry. His story was not unusual. He works as an Afghan Police Officer. Days earlier, he was attacked by a small group of Taliban. They cut half of his left leg completely off. This was a warning to him. Letting him know that if he continued to work as an Afghan Police Officer, he would be killed.
Off stage, I visited with hundreds of male and female service members as well as civilians. The conversations ranged from idle chit chat to hearing their stories of war, about their loved ones back home, about some of the silliness that keeps them sane and their humanitarian efforts. I listened intently to those who just needed to talk and gave advise to the young soldiers who were homesick or down in the dumps.
Our US Troops along with Multi-National Forces are fiercely engaged in Operation Enduring Freedom.
I visited ten bases including NATO headquarters, meeting military and civilian men and women from every corner of the United States and abroad.
There was one constant theme of conversation, pride and commitment echoed in every voice as those who serve talked about freedom and humanitarianism for those less fortunate and the security of our great country.
On stage, this sassy southern jokestress managed to belt out some zingers. Each show, I was so very humbled. Laughter is the best medicine to reduce emotional stress, for our troops and me! A military psychiatrist sent me an email, thanking me for my service to others and for making her job a lot easier. I have always known that the audiences may not remember the exact jokes, but they will remember the way that you make them feel.
Not only do our soldiers carry weapons and carry out missions, they carry hammers, nails, fire wood, food, water, school supplies. Rebuilding schools, providing warmth for the most innocent, rebuilding lives. They go out into the Afghan communities to provide whatever humanitarian efforts are needed to insure the well being of the citizens and train Afghans on how to have a better country. As Americans, we have it made compared to the overall conditions in Afghanistan. There will always be a war somewhere. I admire our Active Military and Veterans. I commend each one for the job that they do or have done. We should be thankful daily for the men and women who serve our great country. Never take your freedom for granted.
In 2003, an active duty soldier stationed in Iraq wanted to help his platoon members who were not receiving very much mail. Today, the website helps active duty men and women request and receive items that they need, including much appreciated cards and letters. If you would like information on how to provide support, please visit www.anysoldier.com.
Sheila Van Dyke
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