Columnist Susan Snyder: Mission: Send women to combat

Tuesday, Feb. 11, 2003 | 8:19 a.m.

As our troops prepare for whatever is going to pass for war this time around, U.S. military officials back home are grappling with the chick question.

The question concerns women in direct combat with the enemy. Right now, women can serve in all kinds of combat positions except for the hand-to-hand type.

Should she or shouldn't she?

The issue raises valid questions of women physically being able to handle weapons so heavy that many men have trouble wielding them. Perhaps we do need to consider the differences in gender when deciding who fights where.

I say we use only women in hand-to-hand combat and capitalize on what we do best, rather than try to make us men in funny underwear.

Our enemies might not die, but they would want to.

"Whaddaya mean bursting in here without calling first?! Did your mother teach you nothing about manners? And wipe your feet next time, for pity's sake. You think I have nothing better to do all day than clean up after you?"

"You better look at me when I'm talking to you, young man! And where did you get that outfit? The mission? I have dust rags that look better. Didn't your father tell you to get a haircut? Honestly, I can't believe you think those bangs look good."

For eons, women of war were relegated to the hospital and office gigs. And we are pretty good at that stuff. After all, the wailing and whining of the bedridden sounds pretty much the same to us whether he's suffering from shrapnel or a head cold. "There, there. Pat, pat. Here's a magazine. Eat your soup. Ring the bell if you need anything."

And who better to keep an office in order than the only member of a household who can at a glance tell the difference between the black sock and the blue sock or pinpoint the exact location of the kitchen scissors, which were last used to cut Barbie's hair?

But as we've slowly worked toward equality in other lines of work, we've been assimilated into military jobs formerly closed to us. News wire reports say there are more than 200,000 women in the U.S. armed forces. They fly combat planes and combat helicopters, serve on combat ships and command battalions in combat regions.

And they should. Combat comes easily to women. They potty-train. They shop the day-after Thanksgiving sales.

They raise teenagers.

"You are not going out until I know where and who with. So you may as well just march your smart mouth back up those stairs and not come down until you decide to tell me. I don't care if you sit there until you're 40."

My mother invented the orange alert when I was a teenager. It went into effect just after she woke my father and just prior to her calling the police for a missed curfew.

So I figure it's not a question of whether women are capable of most duties called for in war. A fair number of our daughters are standing alongside our sons in Kuwait.

One of those sons belongs to two of my closest friends. He was married a year ago, and his first child is on the way. I trust his abilities and those of his comrades.

And if he is injured, I just hope the woman entitled to share his foxhole is big enough to sling him over her shoulder and run.