Thursday, June 12, 2008

Around this time of year....

I am going to take a "Gracie Update" break, although just to let you know she is doing good...as cute as always...to answer a question I get frequently. A lot of my "non-military" friends always ask me, especially around this time of the year with 4th of July around the corner, how I stand being a military wife. How can I be away from my husband so often and so willingly. Well, the simple answer is, I love him and whatever he has to do, I am behind him 100%. A friend of my sent this to me via myspace and I thought I would share. It gives you an insight as to what it means to love a soldier. I do realize that some people will never understand why I have chosen the life that I have but that is ok, it doesn't matter because I love my soldier and no matter where he is told to go or how far apart we are, he is the love of my life and no matter what my heart is always where he is! So I hope you enjoy and pray for those that have lost their lives, for those who are currently deployed to foreign lands defending our freedom, for those that are so bravely joining the services, and for those that are at home having time they deserve with their families and friends.

What it Means to Love a Soldier

She stands in line at the post office waiting to send a package to her husband, a U.S. Army Soldier serving in Iraq. Envelopes, pens, paper, stamps, sunscreen, eye-drops, gum, batteries, powdered Gatorade, baby wipes and Twizzlers. He said he needed the sunscreen and baby wipes. She threw in the Twizzlers. There's a common bond at the post office in this military town. People aren't just sending letters and packages; they are sending smiles, hope, love and just a touch of home. People look around at the others, sharing their concern, fear and pride. They take comfort knowing they are not alone.

Passing through the gate leaving the Army post, she enters another world. A world filled with pawnshops, surplus stores, barbershops, fast food galore and, of course, "Loans, Loans, Loans." This is a life that includes grocery shopping at a place called the Commissary. A life that has her venturing to the Post Exchange, referred to as the PX, instead of heading to Wal-Mart. This is where you come to learn, appreciate and respect the ceremonious traditions of Reveille and Retreat, and of course, the National Anthem from a completely different perspective. At 6 a.m., or as the Soldiers call it, 0600 hours, Reveille can be heard across post. The bugle call officially begins the military workday. At 1700 hours Retreat sounds signaling the day's end. Soldiers render salutes, chatter fades and all eyes are drawn to the nearest flag. At 2300 hours, the bugle sounds Taps, denoting not only the "final hour" of the day, but also honoring those we have lost.


When the National Anthem plays in a military town, a special aura fills the air. Men, women, and even children stop to pay their respects. Civilians place their hands over their hearts. Soldiers salute. In this world, the Anthem isn't just a prequel to the echo of "Play Ball." Since she married her Soldier and experienced the Star Spangled Banner from this perspective, she's noticed how people in civilian towns react to the National Anthem. She notices the people who continue to talk, the hats that stay on, the beer that doesn't get put down, and even the jeers at the person singing the Anthem. The meaning seems to be lost to a majority of people. But if she looks closely, she can see who has been blessed enough to learn this lesson. Some are grandparents, some are parents, and some are young children.

At first glance, children growing up in this world of artillery, tanks and uniforms are the same as any other kids from any other town. They do the things that kids do. They play sports, go to school, and play with their friends. The difference is that their group of friends may change once a year, or more, due to a change of duty station. They don't have any say in this. They could be two years old and not remember a thing about it, or they may be sixteen years old getting ready for prom and having to uproot and move again. They're known as "military brats," a harsh misnomer for those who learn a lifestyle of sacrifice at such a young age. Yet, it makes them strong.

The little boys become the men of the house and the little girls become the ladies. They adapt to these different situations. They live with the reality that one, or even both, parents may not be around to celebrate birthdays and holidays. They know there will be time when they will look into the stands during Little League games and see only an empty space in the bleachers. At the same time, these kids have a sense of overwhelming pride. They brag about their daddies and their mommies being the best of the best. They know their Mom's been through deployments, changes of duty stations, and the ever-changing schedules Army life brings. While Dad is away, she takes care of the house, the bills, the cars, the dogs, and the baby.

To cope with it all, she learns military families communicate via the Internet so he doesn't miss out on what's happening back home. But he does miss out. He won't be there for the baby's first steps, and he may have to hear his son or daughter's first words through a time delay across a static-filled telephone line. She remembers what it was like before he left, when everything seemed "normal". Normal except for the pressed uniform, the nightly ritual of shining boots, the thunder-like sound of the Apache helicopters flying overhead, and the artillery shells heard off in the distance. OK, relatively normal when they occasionally went to the park, spent holidays together and even enjoyed four-day weekends when he could get a pass.

But, the real challenge began with the phone call. She relives the moments before she kissed him good-bye. A phone ringing at 0400 hours is enough to make her heart end up in her throat. They've been expecting the call, but they weren't sure when it would come. She waits to hear the words, "Don't worry, it's just a practice run". But instead she hears, "Here we go". So, off he goes to pack, though most of the packing is finished because as a Soldier, he is "always ready to roll". She gets the baby, but leaves his pajamas on because it is just as well that he sleeps. She takes the dogs out, she gets dressed, all the while trying to catch glimpses of her husband. She wants to cherish his presence because she doesn't know when she'll see him again. She knows that in other homes nearby, other families are enacting exactly the same scene. Within 15 minutes, the family is in the car heading to the "rally point".

As they pull up, they see Soldiers everywhere, hugging their loved ones. While people love to see tearful, joyous homecomings, fearful, anxious, farewells are another story. Too soon, with his gear over his shoulder, he walks away. She is left behind, straining to keep an eye on her Soldier.

As the camouflage starts to blend, only his walk distinguishes him from the others. She takes one last look and takes a deep breath. She reminds herself she must stay strong. No tears. Or, as few tears as possible. Just words of encouragement to the children, to her friends and to herself. Then she turns, walks back to the car, and makes her way home to a house that is now eerily quiet.

She mentally prepares for the days, weeks, even months ahead. She needs to focus on taking care of her love while he is overseas. Her main priorities will be the care packages, phone calls, e-mails, and letters sprayed with perfume. And, she can't forget to turn the stamp upside down to say, "I love you". Taking care of her family, her friends, even strangers - this is her mission as an Army wife to do these things without a second thought.

At the age of 30, she knows the younger wives will turn to her for advice. "How do you balance a checkbook? How do you change a tire? When are they coming home?" Only when she knows everyone else is OK, the bills are paid, the cars maintained, the lawn cut, the kids asleep, the pets calmed down, and the lights are off, does she take time for her self.


Alone at night, she runs the next day's events over in her mind to make sure it will all get finished. She reviews her checklist of things to do, things to buy for his care package. Once again, she checks the calendar to count down the days. Before turning in, she checks to make sure the ringer is on for the late night phone call that might come in from overseas. Before she falls asleep, a few tears hit the pillow. But even as the tears escape, strength enters her mind, body, spirit and soul. She remembers why she is here. She remembers the pride and the love that brought her here in the first place, and a sense of peace comes over her, replacing, if only for a second, the loneliness, the fear and the lingering heartache she feels while her soul mate is away.

This is what it means to love a Soldier. She wouldn't have it any other way.

1 comment:

Marilyn said...

Lovely tribute to our soldiers. My dad was a WWII vintage army officer, and I wrote about the hardships my mother, brother and I endured in the years following WWII overseas, first in Korea in 1946 (I was 8 years old when I received my very own orders from The War Department) to the sublime bliss of Austria, with various stateside tours both good and bad (Fort Sill good, Fort Hood, bad, at least to my way of thinking!)
My book is "Once a Brat" and is available at Amazon.com or B&N.com. It is described as "part travelogue, part therapy session." I'm currently working on a sequel, "Always a Brat" that shows how my upbringing as an army officer's daughter during the Cold War years made me the woman I am today. The only difference I can see in brats is gender (boys tend to be a bit more daring) era (I can't really relate to the kids who went to Germany in he 80s and had all the comforts of home, when I endured no running water in Seoul, Korea, in 1947) and rank (I have no idea how sergeants kids lived, since I was not allowed to "fraternize" with enlisted men's children.
Good luck with your children and I hope your husband returns to the family soon. I know what it's like for a kid to miss a Dad who has been deployed.
Marilyn Celeste Morris