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>FORT HOOD, Texas, Oct. 8, 2003 -- She stands in line at the post office waiting >to send a package to her husband, a U.S. Army soldier serving in Kuwait. >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 16 years old getting ready for prom and having >to up-root 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 will be times 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 goodbye. >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 ripe old age >of 22, 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
Posts: 391 | From: Tallinn, Estonia | Registered: Aug 2004
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