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Mon Aug 14th, 2017 @ 7:53pm
Major Bobbi Jo Wichdt
Name Bobbi Jo Bowman Wichdt
Position Field Team Commanding Officer
Second Position Medic
|Service Branch||Air Force|
|Birth Place||Billings, MT|
|Hair Color||Dark Brown|
|Eye Color||Dark Brown|
|Physical Description||Bobbi is tall and lean, evenly toned muscle wise with smooth, pale skin. Her eyes are a devilish near black fringed by long thick lashes. Her hair is cut uniformly about mid back and typically kept braided tightly back then gathered into a bun. She inherited her strong features from her mother’s Crow lineage and her sassy, no nonsense bearing from her father.
She dresses as code dictate on shift. Off she’s all for tight jeans and a comfortable tee shirt paired with boots and a ratty old flannel. Bobbi’s never appreciated dressing up even though she wears it well, and abhors heels of any kind. She rarely wears jewelry aside from her mother’s turquoise cross off duty.
|Distinguishing Features||Circular scar on her left hand that arcs from wrist to almost the index finger. It’s smooth, but visible. In lieu of a wedding ring, Bobbi has two crossed arrows tattooed on her ring finger. She has a second tattoo of three black work birds in flight on the back of her right shoulder.|
|Spouse||Tab Amott Wichdt (deceased)|
|Children||Elise 'Elle' Jade Wichdt (deceased, 8)|
|Father||Lelmond Marlon Dubois (deceased)|
|Mother||Sue Bowman Dubois (deceased)|
|Brother(s)||Bill Marlon Dubois|
Personality & Traits
|General Overview||One of the very first things that people learn about Bobbi is that she hates being called Bobbi Jo. Bobbi or BJ do just fine, but a ‘Bobbi Jo’ will earn just about anyone a dark scowl. She’s an eternal tomboy with little interest in delicate aesthetics or frills and fuss: if it’s simple and sturdy she’s pretty happy with it. Bobbi is a very straightforward person with a simple code; you respect everyone, speak the truth and don’t hinder progress. If you jeopardize the mission or the status of her patients she’ll take you apart and not think twice about it.
Emotionally Bobbi has distanced herself from anything beyond the daily ‘do’. She’s hurt and weary and grieving the loss of her family, but there isn’t time for that, so she simply rolls on and ignores her own needs. Because of this she can often come off a little annoyed, impatient or grumpy. She keeps herself constantly busy to avoid thinking too much about either her losses or what they could stand to lose if the program isn’t successful. Those that knew her years ago know that the Bobbi isn’t anything like she used to be. She’ was always laughing, easy going: didn’t sweat the things that she couldn’t control. Now she has more of an edge to her and her laughter or letting others in truly rare.
|Strengths & Weaknesses||-Excellent constitution: long runs, little sleep, terrible conditions: she can handle it.
-Has the tenacity of a bulldog with lockjaw: if it has to be done, she’ll find a way to get it done. Failure is not an option.
-Fierce and scrappy fighter
-Not much shakes her: she’s a pro at psyching herself up to push through fear.
-Her bedside manner is often complained about: she doesn’t lie about odds or soften blows.
-Horrible organizations skills. Her reports read terribly and her office looks like a tornado swept through after plowing down a convenience store.
-Tends to internalize her issues and choke on them privately.
-Has a very difficult time relaxing or letting her guard down.
|Ambitions||Currently Bobbi isn’t harboring any ambitions as she doesn’t expect to live through any of this. She’d like one last great American road trip, but that seems terribly unrealistic.|
|Hobbies & Interests||Storms, Motown, classic rock, long road trips, camping, bonfires, horses, star watching, Arizona lightning shows, creek swimming, rafting, just about any kind of winter sport, classic cars, grilling (IE setting things on fire).|
|Training and Education||-Billings Senior High School, Billings, MT. Graduated in 1984
-Montana State University North, Havre, MT. Graduated with a Bachelor in Biology in 1989.
- 737th Training Group at Lackland Air Force Base, San Antonio, Texas. Air Force Basic Military Training (AFBMT) 6 week basic training course in 1990.
-Lackland Air Force Base, San Antonio, Texas - Pararescue Preparatory Course, 1990
-Lackland Air Force Base, San Antonio, Texas - Indoctrination Course, 1990
-Fort Benning, Columbus, Ga. - U.S. Army Airborne School, 1990
-NDSTC, Panama City, Fla. - U.S. Air Force Combat Divers School, 1992
-Pensacola Naval Air Station, Pensacola, Fla. - U.S. Navy Underwater Egress Training, 1990
-Fairchild AFB, Spokane, Wash. - U.S. Air Force Basic Survival School, 1990
-Fort Bragg, N.C., and Yuma Proving Grounds, Ariz. - U.S. Army Military Free Fall Parachutist School, 1990
-Kirtland AFB, Albuquerque, N.M. - Paramedic Course (EMT certification), 1991
-Kirtland AFB, Albuquerque, N.M. - Pararescue Recovery Specialist Course, 1991
-Suffolk County Dept. of Health Services, Hauppage, NY - Advanced Emergency Medical Technician Intermediate (AEMT-I), 1992
-Suffolk County Dept. of Health Services, Hauppage, NY - Advanced Emergency Medical Technician - Critical Care (AEMT-CC) 1993
-Suffolk County Dept. of Health Services, Hauppage, NY - Advanced Emergency Medical Technician - Paramedic (AEMT-P) 1994
-Annual re-certification classes yearly
|Personal History||It was raining cats and dogs the day that Bobbi Jo was born and her parents had to bring her into the world at home when the road washed out. She was their first born, their hell raiser, who even then in her first breath couldn’t let anything be simple. She proved to be an adventurous child always neck deep in things that she shouldn’t be, covered in scratches and bruises and mud. It wasn’t that her parents weren’t well adjusted or attentive, no. She was just that particularly good and getting into trouble. If there were baby anythings to see or small things to be caught or climbed: she was there. If it was broken, covered in bent nails, buried in the back sixty or slathered in cow pies: it was her. Her grandfather had egged her on relentlessly when she was younger much to her mother’s chagrin. Her father didn’t seem to mind much either. She was her own little tornado.
Bobbi was nine when her father and grandpa Eddie had a head on collision with a deer just outside Thompson Falls. She had vivid memories of riding out there in the passenger seat of her mom’s truck with her baby brother in her arms, watching from inside the cab as paramedics and firefighters and a couple of neighbors worked hard to pry the little jeep apart enough to get her father free. Her grandfather stilling once his stroke subsided and his last breath shuddered out. The flashing lights and earnest faces and how no one stopped until well after the fact. She was eagle eyed at the hospitals visiting her father, soaking in everything like a sponge. Even after he came back home days later, all she could talk about was what she saw. From the bad she’d found the good and focused on it with laser accuracy. It was a trend that she never quite lost in life.
As she grew older, Bobbi was sure that she was going to be a paramedic. Not a doctor as her mother tried to talk her into or a veterinarian as her father tried to push for, no. She needed to be in the thick of it- in fact, she swooped in every chance that she got with band aids and wraps and if the chance didn’t arise, then she’d share her expansive library honed knowledge on blood, guts and nasty breaks. Realizing that they couldn’t quite deter her and that she would leave the farm, her father eventually started easing into talks about college and staying in state- the typical norms for protective parents.
College in the 80s was a hell of a kick, especially for a woman in a science related field. With the space race, the cold war and the Regan era politics abound, there was a lot of pressure to make a mark on the world. For her it came in the form of a military recruiter close to graduation. Bobbi’s family wasn’t too pleased about it, especially with her younger brother Billy’s ears perking at the idea of being a soldier. She was sent off in the hopes that she’d wash out. Not only did she have her eyes set on the air force, Bobbi had it in her head that she would go into pararescue and that just wasn’t a field for women in the 80s.
From day one Bobbi had to fight twice as hard to get enough recognition for the programs that she knew would get her where she wanted to be. She wasn’t satisfied with triage tents or medical hospitals, she wanted more. For every leap forward that she managed came another round of proving herself again and again- not because she wasn’t a good soldier or she couldn’t do it- but because she was a female. The training was grueling, her peers were for the most part terrible, but that end goal was too tempting to let anything else win. After a lot of hard work and effort Bobbi became one of the few female pararescuer.
Somalia, Bosnia, Haiti, Kuwait, Iraq, Afghanistan, Sudan: all of those places hold some pretty bleak memories for her dotted with loss and triumph. None of which she talks about. Bobbi often recounts that when she’s out in the field, you don’t always know how you’ll get back out or if the people depending on you will make it. If they’ll even be alive when you get there. But you do it. You put one foot in front of the other and haul like the devil’s on your tail.’ And that’s about the most she’ll say on the issue.
The high point in Bobbi’s military life isn’t being shoed into the Stargate program. That’s the second. The first was being stationed in Germany and meeting Tab Wichdt and his infant daughter Elle. The two hit it off almost immediately even with very little common language between them. They learned, which led to bonding, then a mad dash romance that had them married in the first year. Their first few years were spent in Germany with her in and out regularly on operations until the transfer came in to New York. There was a lull before the Stargate Program came knocking. A welcome little dip of quiet where they could all be together even if they hated life in the city. Even with the extra layers of secrecy, Colorado was a world better than a cramped apartment in a crummy neighborhood.
Saddle with a secondary leadership on SG9- a team charged with search and rescue- Bobbi felt right at home even with the otherworldly settings. A war zone was a war zone. She and her team were on their twenty-second trip out when the shit hit the fan on Earth and their primary gate became inaccessible. They were stranded along with the last three remaining members of SG7 on an industrial world in the middle of a replicator attack. By the time their rescue arrived, the rest of the team was dead aside from Bobbi and most of the team scientist. Sans a leg and most of his left hand.
Brought through into the newly retaken Antarctic base, Bobbi was debriefed and relieved of duty for the foreseeable future. She wasn’t allowed to leave the base- not even after being told that her husband, daughter and both parents died from the Quietus plague the month before. She couldn’t visit their graves or settle their homes- though she was allowed to have monitored contact with her brother Bill. Treated as a guarded asset, she was sequestered away with a therapist and a training regimen to shape her up into a stable playing piece again. Once Bobbi was cleared by the base psychologist, she was added back to the talent pool with a promise of a little payback and a lot of busting heads.
|Service Record||-106th Rescue Wing – Francis S. Gabreski Airport, Long Island, New York, 1994
-86th Airlift Wing, Ramstein Air Base, Kaiserslautern, Germany - 1997
-106th Rescue Wing – Francis S. Gabreski Airport, Long Island, New York, 2000
-Stargate Program, SG9 Team XO - Cheyenne Mountain Facility, 2002
-Stargate Program, SG11 Team Leader - Antarctica Facility, 2004
|Character Notes||-Bobbi's family farm home sits empty just outside of Manitou Springs, CO. She hasn't been back since the funeral in early '03. Her '69 Mustang GT is still tarped up in the garage where it's sat idle for the last three years. Her parent's property in Billings, MT has been given to her brother.
-Training for women in Pararescue (PJs) was only opened to women in 2016. For the sake of fiction, we're bending this point.
|Player Notes||-Rarely get on Skype, IRC or YM, but if you send me a message to set up a time/date, I can do that.
-Easier to get a hold of me during the week.
-Artist: I work weird hours.