America's North Shore Journal

Left to right, roller derby team­mates Army Sgt. Karli Wahkahquah, Army 1^st Lt. Kristin Sloan and Army 1^st Lt. Jes­sica duMon­ceaux, all mem­bers of the Okla­homa Army National Guard, proudly show off their dainty, pow­der blue Thun­der­birds — sym­bolic of the par­ent 45^th Infantry Brigade Com­bat Team under which they serve. (U.S. Army photo/Sgt. 1^st Class Dar­ren D. Heusel)

Some Sol­diers will do almost any­thing to stay in shape.

Three Sol­diers from the Okla­homa Army National Guard are lac­ing up their roller skates, strap­ping on elbow and knee pads and tak­ing to the rink as mem­bers of the Okla­homa City Red Dirt Rebel­lion Rol­ler­girls.

For those new to the sport, this isn't the roller derby of the 1970s, when prac­ti­cally every move was chore­o­graphed as in pro­fes­sional wrestling.

No, this is the real deal — as evi­denced by the bruised and bat­tered bod­ies of 1^st Lt. Jes­sica duMon­ceau, 1^st Lt. Kristin Sloan and Sgt. Karli Wahkahquah.

All are mem­bers of the mil­i­tary intel­li­gence com­mu­nity and became inter­ested in roller derby after attend­ing an evening con­test between the Okla­homa City Red Dirt Rebel­lion and a team from Amarillo.

"We all went to our first bout together, and Kristin and I looked at Karli and said, 'We have to do this!'" said duMon­ceau, who attended high school in Foley, Minn., before mov­ing to Okla­homa City six years ago. "We can be pretty per­sua­sive like that sometimes."

Wahkahquah said it has been at least 10 years since she donned a pair of roller skates, but she was up to the challenge.

"I'm sure I must have looked like a baby giraffe on skates out there at first," said Wahkahquah, who also hails from Okla­homa City. "There were a lot of bumps and bruises ini­tially, but it's proven to be a lot of fun."

Sloan, a native of Mus­tang, Okla., said one of the clinch­ers for her was when "Ener­gizer Honey," a mem­ber of the Red Dirt Rebel­lion, was sent fly­ing over the rail­ing, landed on her feet and got right back into the action with­out ever bat­ting an eyelash.

"She jumped right up like she knew what she was doing," Sloan recalled. "The crowd went wild, and we knew right then this was the sport for us."

Founded in July 2007 by a group of women with pre­vi­ous flat-track expe­ri­ence, the Red Dirt Rebel­lion Rol­ler­girls are mem­bers of Oklahoma's only all-female banked-track roller derby league.

While flat-track roller derby has taken the nation by storm in recent years, the Red Dirt Rebel­lion is one of only 11 elite banked-track roller derby teams in the country.

In its hey­day, roller derby was one of the most pop­u­lar sports broad­cast on TV. The late 1970s brought view­ers pro­fes­sional wrestling-style derby with mixed teams, heated fist fights and dra­matic moves.

Then, as if overnight, roller derby dis­ap­peared from pub­lic view, only to re-emerge 20 years later with a totally revamped atti­tude. You won't often see men on the derby track any more, unless they're sport­ing a black-and-white striped jer­sey and a whistle.

You also won't see any overly dra­matic "scripted" behav­ior on the rink. What you will see are short skirts, fish­net stock­ings, tat­toos and smash-mouth roller derby action.

All the hits, spills, falls and breaks are real, and they're revered in the roller derby community.

Named after the infa­mous "red dirt" of Okla­homa and their wild "rebel­lious" spir­its, mem­bers of the Red Dirt Rebel­lion Rol­ler­girls come from all dif­fer­ent lifestyles and back­grounds, from graphic design­ers and nurses, to stay-at-home moms and soldiers.

The ladies get together at least three nights a week, and for a few bone-crushing hours, they fly around the track hurl­ing them­selves at each other as they par­tic­i­pate in their own ver­sion of ulti­mate fighting.

They like to have fun, and they like to play rough, as their motto, "Skate Fast and Kick Butt," states. Once the ladies step onto the rink, they imme­di­ately trans­form into their "alter egos."

Wahkahquah, or "Rolling Death," as she is known by her Red Dirt Rebel­lion sis­ters, bull­dozes her way through a crowded pack of five girls as she makes her way for the "jammer."

Sloan, or "Bruise Clues" as she is known in roller derby cir­cles, finds the gap through the pack and darts in and out as she bursts her way through, dodg­ing oppos­ing "block­ers" as they lunge at her.

The jam­mers, duMon­ceau or "La Fleur de Mort" among them, claw their way through what seems like a school of pira­nhas, while the block­ers seek to catch an oppos­ing skater off guard and send her skid­ding across the floor.

Belly flops, bruised jaws, bloody noses and twisted ankles come with the ter­ri­tory. But these ladies say, "Bring it on!"

After an intense bout, the skaters may seek treat­ment for their wounds. But, you won't see a sin­gle unhappy skater in the bunch. They'll limp out with a grin on their face and glints of roller derby glory in their eyes, eager to live on and to fight another day.

"There are def­i­nitely some ded­i­cated peo­ple on our team," duMon­ceaux said.

What makes the trio so suc­cess­ful on the banked track is the same tena­cious atti­tude and "can-do" spirit that helps them thrive and sur­vive in the Guard.

"For me, the orga­ni­za­tion and the plan­ning are huge," said Sloan. "There was no real struc­ture when we first got started. We used troop-leading pro­ce­dures to make it go a lot smoother."

Wahkahquah said she noticed the team's method of noti­fy­ing peo­ple about an upcom­ing prac­tice or bout was bro­ken when she first was involved. One per­son was con­tact­ing every­one on the team, and it was tak­ing hours to get peo­ple noti­fied. So she insti­tuted a pro­ce­dure sim­i­lar to a mil­i­tary recall ros­ter to help speed up the process.

"Now, all is well," she said. "Roller derby has def­i­nitely taught me to be a bet­ter leader. When we first got here, it was like herd­ing cats. Now, it's like herd­ing sheep. It's a lot more organized."

"I'm def­i­nitely devel­op­ing my com­mu­ni­ca­tion skills," duMon­ceau said. "I'm very direct these days and that helps tran­si­tion over to the Guard."

The women all claim to have been stand­out ath­letes in high school. All said roller derby has helped them ele­vate their phys­i­cal fitness.

"We're guar­an­teed at least three prac­tices per week, even more than that, if we have a 'bout' com­ing up," Wahkahquah said.

Sloan said their expe­ri­ence has helped with recruit­ing as well.

Sport­ing a baby blue Thun­der­bird on their right shoul­der that's sym­bolic of the 45^th Infantry Brigade Com­bat Team with which they serve, Sloan said some of the other women will come up to them and ask about the National Guard.

Choos­ing the per­fect roller derby nick­name is impor­tant, the women said, because it becomes reg­is­tered and is theirs for­ever. "Some­one can call and ask to cre­ate a ver­sion of your name, but they have to get your per­mis­sion," Wahkahquah said.

Wahkahquah's last name in Comanche means "rid­ing death." So, in keep­ing with the Native Amer­i­can theme, she chose "Rolling Death" as her alter ego.

In French, duMonceaux's name means "the mound." So, she "just went a lit­tle darker," as she put it, with "La Fleur de Mort," which means "the flower of death."

Sloan said the nick­name she arrived at, "Bruise Clues," is prob­a­bly the least excit­ing of the three.

"That's just the one I ended up lik­ing," she shrugged. "It was an original."

As for the reac­tion the Guards­men get from peo­ple when they dis­cover they are mem­bers of the Red Dirt Rebel­lion, they said most peo­ple at first don't real­ize Okla­homa has a team.

Sec­ond, they said, peo­ple will ask, "Is that real?"

"I tell them every­thing about it is def­i­nitely real," Wahkahquah said, point­ing to the bruises on her left arm.

Mean­while, the Guard mem­bers are slated to deploy to Afghanistan next year. Yet, the women will have each other to lean on, just as duMon­ceaux and Wahkahquah did when they were deployed together to Afghanistan in 2002.

"We're all pretty tight," said Wahkahquah. "We pretty much became mutual friends after that first deploy­ment. We like to moun­tain bike, rock climb — just about any­thing you might con­sider extreme."

Some might con­sider roller derby extreme. But for Oklahoma's Guard trio, sus­tain­ing a few more bumps and bruises in the rugged, moun­tain­ous ter­rain of Afghanistan might just make them feel right at home.

DVIDS
By Army Sgt. 1^st Class Dar­ren D. Heusel