My Dad came home with his orders. We were being transferred to Tokyo, Japan in 1960. I was ten years old and could not wait to begin this new adventure. I read so many books about Japanese life and culture and I had seen the pictures of the girls on Girl’s Day wearing their kimonos with the obi and zori shoes. I could not wait to go shopping in the Ginza district. I was fascinated by the Japanese language. I already knew how to count from one to ten: ichi, ni, san, shi, go, roku, shichi, hachi, kyuu, juu. My new life at yet another Air Force base was about to begin.

My Mom, younger sister Carla, and I descended the steps of the MATS (Military Air Transport Service) plane with the seats with nets and the boxed meals that they gave us and there was Dad. He had preceded us to get things in order. “Girls, I have some news. They have no housing for us at this time so we will be staying at the Imperial Hotel until quarters have been approved.” The only word I heard was “hotel”. 

What an adventure this would be and I was, to my astonishment, given the run of the hotel. I first met the staff in the kitchen who were gracious enough to ask what kinds of food I liked, as well as introducing me to new and wonderful Japanese fare, never failing to offer me some Mochi (ice cream). They taught me Japanese phrases each day: Moshi, moshi, anone (when answering the telephone), Chotto matte kudasai (Just a moment, please) and Ah, so desuku (Oh, I see). My new friends would help me continue to learn more Japanese numbers and they would quiz me every day. We saw Kabuki dancers each night after dinner.  I was entirely enthralled with this life, this language, the new food adventures, and the very kind people.

My sister and I would play games in the spacious front lobby. I would learn how to use an abacus in order to be ready for maths class. In school, I found myself in a Japanese Culture class where we learned the art of writing in Kanji. My Mom signed us up for a Judo class and because I was taller than the other students, for the first time, I excelled at a sport.

Then the day came. We were moving to a Japanese house in the “paddies” near a rice field. I walked to the school for American military dependents every day and never failed to stop on the way home for some street “Yakitori” (grilled chicken on a stick).

After three years my Dad got his orders. We were moving to Frankfurt, Germany. Another chapter in the book of my life was about to begin.  World, here I come!

Donna Peacher-Hall (Air Force BRAT)


(Definitely not a Nashville Party)

Nothing compares to the mixed feelings of seeing your bedroom collapse down to a few cardboard boxes every few years. It marks the close of another chapter in your life but turns the page to a new one. I have seen those boxes and turned that page myself, eight times in eighteen years. The truth is, there is no one-size-fits-all strategy when it comes to moving to a new place. Everyone has a unique journey. Much of the advice that is presented to you is not tailored to your individual success and is downright damaging. This is because very few people can relate to the lifestyle that you live and do not realize that cliche advice is less applicable. Luckily, I am here to assess the value of common advice granted to military kids throughout the moving process.

“Move on and never look back”

The application of this overused phrase, in relation to moving, can severely limit your social outlets and comfort level in a new place. The disorienting nature of moving somewhere new requires you to look to your past for stability. Especially in a foreign country, you will be slapped in the face by one thing after another. Storefronts in a foreign language, SLAP. No friends, SLAP. Lost moving boxes, SLAP. The next time one of these SLAPS hit you, before pushing forward, take a second to “look back.” Take a second to look for the things you know. The things that are already in your corner. The constants. For most military brats, this can be a sibling, a pet, or even a close friend who is always down to FaceTime. Your constants should not hold you back, but rather be your springboards who want to see you flourish in a new place. And in this new, spinning place that you are entering, finding an old rock or two to keep your grounding is as important as finding new ones. These people are your security blanket – your insurance policy. Does that mean to drive recklessly? Of course not. But determining these constants will give you the confidence boost needed to attack your new situation.

 Once you find your constants, you will realize how outrageous the commonly preached mantra of “move on and never look back” is. Many of the people you endear and trust the most can become thousands of miles away. If you have friends from your past that will stick by your side, do not let them go. These people can be your saving grace in another new place that you call home. Move on? Of course. But please, take a second to look back.

“Just get into a new routine”

Another common piece of advice granted to military children, spewed by everyone from counselors to grandmas, is to get into a new routine. While this may seem logical, to set yourself up with a sense of normalcy from day to day, it has one obvious pitfall. How the hell are you supposed to create a routine when you know nothing about a place, have no friends, and are struggling to find the smallest of successes? Creating a routine cannot be willy nilly and spontaneous. It needs to be carefully crafted to promote your personal growth. I can arrive in a new town and tell myself that my new routine will involve waking up at 6am, going to a coffee shop down the street, reviewing some notes, and then driving to school. That sounds productive, but what if that coffee shop is the worst coffee shop east of the Mississippi? What if the traffic en route to school is awful during that time? There needs to be a phase of exploration in a new place. You cannot be trying to cram everything you are introduced to into a concrete pattern that you are formulating. You need to gather your building blocks first, not constantly build with every block you find, until you realize you have subpar blocks. Stop thinking about routines and start thinking about expanding your arsenal.

“Don’t draw attention to yourself”

You should not be afraid of attention. A crucial part of adapting to a new place is trying new things and exploring. Go to the student council club meeting, then the chess club meeting. Hang out with the football kids, then the tennis kids. Try this restaurant, then that ice cream parlor. Casting a larger net will increase your odds of finding a real, quality student organization, friend group, or food spot that is best for you and your interests. Eyes will be on you because you are “new,” but this attention should not deter you from gaining familiarity with your new surroundings. Doing so will allow you to accumulate options that will be beneficial in ultimately deciding where to invest your time. You are not drawing attention for the attention, but rather as a byproduct of you expanding the cap of your social potential.

“You only get one chance at a first impression”

This one is true, plain and simple. However, not all first impressions are made equal. Meeting Byron in Spanish class is not the same as meeting your parent’s commanding officer. Despite this, we are often only equipped with ancient techniques that do not apply to the modern school setting. When introducing yourself to Byron, you can skip the firm handshake and small talk about the weather. The utmost formality that many military kids are taught prepares you for the utmost formal situations. But everyday life is a few notches below that. Instead, consider spending that one-shot first impression in a more relaxed manner. You should try your best to radiate a sense of calmness, but sincerity when introducing yourself to a new person. When they speak, be an attentive listener. Details about themselves should not be going through one ear and out the other. Yes, you are trying to accumulate building blocks for yourself, but these are real people, with real lives, and real ambitions. 

A key strategy is to aim your conversation towards activities or groups that person is involved in, to try and find common interests. If one is found, then feel free to share some of your experiences. If your conversation carries on easily, consider asking for their Snapchat or Instagram to help you “network” in this new social environment. Remember that you and Byron do not have to become best friends. This conversation may be lackluster and go absolutely nowhere. Heck, you may never speak to one another again. However, simply “knowing a guy” and knowing what they are involved in, will help ignite your conversations with other people you meet and give you branches into new friend groups. Be cool, spread out, and always end with “it was nice meeting you.”

“Put others first”

After your first few weeks, it can be easy to feel indebted to those who have taken you under their wing. However, your priorities still need to come first. Determine which activities, groups, and people are most beneficial for you. When choosing where to invest your time, consider which you have the most passion for. Consider which investments will promote successful habits and your own happiness. This may sound selfish or inconsiderate to place your priorities clearly over anyone else’s. You should remember that your investments do not have to be entirely selfish in themselves. Volunteer work, for example, is charitable and fosters personal character growth simultaneously. You have done the hard work of determining the very few constants in your ever-changing life and developing the best ways to adapt to a new place. You deserve to make this decision for yourself. As of now, you do not owe anyone anything. It is similar to the airline demonstrations that say, “Put on your oxygen mask first, then help others.” Remember that at this point you are far more vulnerable than others and you need to cement your footing in a new lifestyle. 

As Aerosmith once said, “Life is a journey, not a destination.” Eh – that’s probably too old. As Miley once said, “Ain’t about how fast I get there, ain’t about what’s on the other side, it’s the climb.” As a military kid, you cannot look too far down the road, because that road is uncertain. That is simply a part of the journey that you are going on. Embrace your time in a new place. It is still your childhood and you only have it once. You are tackling problems that many people do not face until they begin college or their careers. That does not make it easier, but it should be a reminder that you are building yourself a better future by gaining these valuable life lessons, even if they are a SLAP to the face. 

Shanon Hyde


Allen Dale Olson

Recently our Museum received in an assortment of military family artifacts, a German Roemer, a traditional wine glass of the Rhine Valley, with an inscription etched in its bowl: “General & Mrs. Glenn K. Otis, CINCUSAREUR, Farewell Dinner” along with four stars signifying his rank. Looking at that name triggered many memories of the five or so years I worked with General Otis (one of eight U.S. Army Commanders I served in Europe).

Because of our museum’s mission to tell the stories of family life in the military, I want to share two examples of how General Otis recognized the sanctity of family life. A meeting we had attended at Ramstein Air Base had gone long past dinner, and as we approached the general’s car for the ride back to Heidelberg – about an hour’s drive, the Ramstein Base Commander offered us a helicopter, to save us some time.

“Thanks,” General Otis said, “but my driver is one guy late for dinner at home. A chopper would require your crew and my opening the air field in Heidelberg, six or seven guys with their evenings disrupted. We’ll go by car.”

One afternoon in Washington, I left the Pentagon for a meeting of the Association of the U.S. Army taking place in a hotel on Connecticut Avenue. In line in the Metro Station to use the ticket machine, I noticed the man in front of me having trouble making the machine take his dollar bill. Excusing myself, I offered him one of my crisp bills. As he turned around, he exclaimed, “Ole, what are you doing here?” General Otis was headed for the same meeting.

As a four-star, it would have been fairly normal for an Army car and driver to haul him around the city. But ever conscious of other people’s needs, Glenn Otis opted to take the subway. “For one thing,” he told me, “I don’t know how long I’ll be at this meeting or what I’ll get into afterward with some of the other West Pointers. No sense tying up a driver whose probably got a dozen more things to do before he gets off work.”

He was my CINC longer than any of the other seven USASREUR Commanders I worked with, thethe one I got to know best, and I always found him very devoted to the staff who served him.

I wasn’t there for his farewell dinner in 1988, but for a few moments as I unwrapped the donated wine glass, I could picture what a decent, respectful event it must have been.