I had this big idea to make buck-eye balls like my mom always has..but it was much more work than I expected. Katherine and Elsie helped me finish them up.

***This post belongs to a series of posts detailing life as a 22-year-old military wife, back in the beginning of the War on Terrorism. To read it from the beginning, start here. To read the  chapter before this one, click here.***

Christmas arrived.

I could ignore it in my sadness over not having Alan with me, or I could embrace it for the fact that it was still Christmas.

Truthfully, it was not a sad time anymore. I had Elsie, Kayla, Sarah, and Cloe to hang out with all the time. Life was mostly downright fun.

I hung lighted garland around my duplex front door, and my friends and I gathered for a Christmas meal together. We made buck-eye balls in the kitchen and drank raspberry wine and sparkling white grape juice. It was my first year to ever play Christmas hostess in my own home, though it was actually still weeks before Christmas. I had a ball decorating and using my fancy glasses.

Table all set for Christmas with my friends. Never pass on an opportunity to use the fancy glasses!!

Some people keep their beautiful wedding china and crystal in boxes or cabinets, but that’s never been me. I am a firm believer in pulling out your best things for company or special events. What’s the point of owning things that no one ever sees or uses? Give yourself the blessing of eating off your most beautiful plates and drinking out of the glasses with the platinum rims is what I say!

It’s true that friends are the family you make for yourself, and we had built for ourselves such a delightful family. I wouldn’t trade them for all the stability, security, and never-changing zip codes in the world!

Katherine, Sarah, and Cloe

Christmas dinner 2003 made me proud to be an Army wife.

There we were, not fretting about the safety of our husbands or letting jealousy get to us. We were not licking wounds and building up bitterness. Instead, we were laughing and cooking and encouraging one another. This was our own family away from home. You don’t hear much about military spouse “battle buddies”, but it IS very much a thing. It was THE thing that saw us through that long, potentially lonely year. Only it wasn’t so lonely because we had each other.

I don’t remember if we all exchanged gifts, but I do remember this one gift I received from Kayla that Christmas. She said she knew I liked to decorate with pretty things, so she bought me this blue and yellow sewing box that matched my guest room colors. It’s funny the things that you remember, but that’s the only gift I remember from that whole Christmas year. It made me feel special that she’d thought enough about me to buy me a gift, and also that she said she knew I liked pretty things.

Believe it or not, I actually DID sew that year too. I was the designated hemmer of our group. I can’t sew a stitch without a machine, but with the machine, I could read the directions and hem up everyone’s pants just fine. It did seem like all of my friends had short legs.

And so with this feeling of love and hopefulness and the recent victory of our husbands in catching Saddam Hussein providing the optimism, we all headed our separate ways to home for Christmas.

a photo of Alan on Christmas or sometime close to Christmas, in Iraq

Home for Christmas

I made the rounds to all of our family gatherings, both on my side of the family and on Alan’s side. It was the right thing to do. Things should proceed forth as normally as possible. Even if I was still new to Alan’s side, I would forge on and provide plenty of smiles and warmth because I was the closest thing anyone had to Alan that year.

When I was a child, Christmas was always a BIG deal. First, we’d go to Dad’s family’s gathering on Christmas Eve. All the extended family would be there at Grandaddy and Granny’s house.

Then on Christmas day, we’d either go to Maw-maw’s house, Maw-Maw was mom’s mom, or we’d go to Granny Hyde’s house. Granny Hyde was Maw-maw’s mom. Both Granny Hyde and Maw-Maw loved hosting Christmas, so it was arranged that they took turns.

Christmas with my cousin and her baby

But just a few years prior to the Christmas of 2003, both sides of my family experienced profound loss. We lost Maw-Maw in ’97 and Granddaddy (Dad’s dad) in ’98.

Maw-maw died on Christmas Eve, leaving this gaping black hole in the lives of every single one of us. I had spent one week every summer of my childhood at Maw-maw’s house. She was one of my heroes and a true kindred spirit. We all loved her. This is still the hardest loss I’ve ever experienced.

Most people know when to go, or they depart when they are old and their calling has been fulfilled. With Maw-maw it felt more sudden, and as though we were all robbed. No, it should not have been her time to go, and yet it was. She left early, and the disappointing feeling of loss from that cut so deeply that even in 2003, six years later, we still all keenly felt her absence.

Maw-maw was fine. She was with God, but we weren’t quite fine. But we are resilient people if we are nothing else, so we still made the best of it. We still came together and followed all our traditions.

It’s amazing how comforting Christmas traditions are and how much you miss them once they’ve gone. How I’d love to have just one of those Christmas gatherings back.

I enjoyed seeing my family. I always found it comforting to get to see family, and we did still have Granny, who was 90 by then, and we were thankful. Everyone missed Alan, but no one on my side of the family was accustomed to having Alan there yet. He’d only been to 1 family Christmas, so his absence wasn’t nearly as impactful as it was at Alan’s family Christmas.

Alan’s Family Christmas

As comforting as participating in my own family’s Christmas traditions was, going to Alan’s family Christmas was….emotional. It’s like walking out of a movie theatre of childhood memories and back into the reality of your life, with people who are aching.

Me, with Alan’s cousins and his sister

Probably most people didn’t realize how sad they were that Alan wasn’t there, and everyone put on a happy face and enjoyed Christmas. Alan’s family is also a clan of successful, resilient people. I’m telling you, we come from excellent stock.

But sometimes our pain leaks through when we don’t mean for it to. It’s there in their eyes or their quiet or the way their smile doesn’t quite meet their eye crinkles.

Alan’s family doesn’t begin Christmas celebrations until Christmas day. For Christmas lunch, all of Alan’s mother’s family gathers, even to this day, at Alan’s grandfather and grandmother’s house, and eats and opens presents. These grandparents had four children, and each of their children had at least two children, so it is a ginormous family gathering.

Everyone seemed jovial enough, considering, and asked how Alan was doing in Iraq. Aunt Ellen had even sent Alan his own little Christmas tree.

But around lunch, I started to notice their grief. Alan is a happy, hearty, talkative, laughing fellow, and his absence was extremely noticeable.

Alan’s grandfather said the prayer as usual before the meal, and his voice cracked. It wasn’t just a little crack. It was a heavy one, from a man who’d already lost a brother and who knows how many friends to the ravages of war.

By the end of Grandaddy Cunningham’s Christmas day blessing, there could not have been any dry eyes in the room.

The t.v. was going most of the day in the kitchen of Grandmother’s house because President George W. Bush showed up on a surprise visit to Baghdad and had lunch with the troops. Alan wasn’t actually in Baghdad, but it still made us feel more connected to him to see the President and the men and women in uniform eating with him. We knew they were all there in Iraq. They were having Christmas too, and it looked like everything was okay.

In the afternoon, once everyone had opened presents, I headed back to Alan’s parents’ house with his sister and his parents. We opened presents there that night, and in the morning we all took a 5 hour drive to a small town near Augusta, Georgia to be with Alan’s dad’s side of the family. They had a large extended family gathering too.

Pants! Thank you!

The biggest thing I remember about Christmas night was that we all wore our “ho ho hooah” 4th Infantry Division Christmas t-shirts while we opened presents. I also remember that Alan’s dad kept things light with some funny jokes. My favorite was when he opened a brand new pair of trousers and said, “Oh! Pants! Thank you!” and then proceeded to put the pants on his head and stick his arms in the pant legs.

We needed that laugh! I can still see it in my head!

Alan did get to call and talk to us all and wish us a merry Christmas. He did an amazing job of keeping upbeat.

Holding one another together

We all managed to have a pretty good time. Everyone was putting on a brave face for everyone else, and maybe it sounds stuffy, but the truth was it was helpful. We were all holding each other up from falling apart in this way. It worked. I can’t explain it to you, but it just works when humans get together and walk through life and hardship together.

Maybe it doesn’t even sound like hardship in the telling of it, and yet it was. I know that it was because I remember the point that I reached when I was done holding it together, and I just let myself fall all apart into a salty heap of tears. Sure, I’d shed a few tears over Christmas already, but then there comes that breaking point.

The airport.

That’s where I was when I let it all go. Christmas was finished. Visiting was done. I had been there for everyone. All that was required had been fulfilled. Now I had only to ride this airplane home, and Christmas would be over, and the new year would begin.

And this was one of my best new year’s yet because 2004 would bring Alan back home to us, and we could get started with regular life. We could finally be that newlywed couple that we’d been waiting to be.

I watched them all walking by, the soldiers in the airport, in uniform, going and coming on mid-tour leave, and there was news coverage of the sad military families apart for Christmas, and then there was this People magazine. I think it was People. It could have been anything, but that was the moment where the world started to spin.

Suddenly, I was acutely aware of sitting there all alone, and all of these articles and news stories might as well have been about me, and then I started to bawl. That’s always how it is with me. I can go on for ages and not think about any of my problems in a personal way. I can wear the stone face and be tough, until suddenly I’m not.

Unplugging the emotional stopper

I cried a river, quietly and trying not to make eye contact with anyone. Did anyone notice? Surely. No one bothered me, because that wasn’t what I needed anyway. What I needed was to get those tears out. It was time to unplug the emotional stopper.

Tears are just a part of the process. There’s a healing function in allowing yourself to feel, not wallow, but just be honest about your feelings, fill it up with tears, but then drain it before it soaks too much. Soaking is good for dirty dishes, but it’s not so good for self-pitying thoughts. Have your cry, then clean yourself up, and do something else.

When you know in your heart that you’ve done all the right things, there is a significant peace that comes with that. I had that peace. Sure, I’d made mistakes over the course of 2003, but at Christmas I had done what was right and good, and I felt as though I’d been an encouragement to both of our families.

Besides, this was 2004 just beginning, the year that would bring Alan home.

“Hope deferred makes the heart sick, but a longing fulfilled is a tree of life.”  Proverbs 13:12

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The post The Real Army Wives Series: Merry Christmas To Iraq, 2003 appeared first on Stories of Our Boys.

Alan, at the Balad Airfield, with other soldiers, waiting to board a C-5 to Qatar.

****This post is part of a series titled The Real Army Wives of Fort Hood. Each Monday I post a new chapter. These are all true stories of my own experiences on the home-front as well as stories from my friends.****

Please excuse the horrendous photo quality of these pictures. They were taken in 02-04, and are not available to me digitally, so all I have is fuzzy photos of photos. My apologies!

Sometimes in life things simply don’t go your way, and there’s nothing to do but make the best of a tough situation. Sending my husband to war the very first year of our marriage felt like a series of tough breaks, let me tell ya!

Somewhere around the 6-month-mark of the deployment, word came down that SOME of the soldiers would be receiving a little thing called “mid-tour leave.”

Mid-Tour Leave is this amazing treat where a service member gets to leave their year-or-longer deployment to come home for TWO whole weeks.

When I first heard of this, I was full of hope and excitement. I had never imagined that Alan might get to come see me before the year was up. But wait. Some? How do they choose which ones get a break and which ones don’t?

Alan, proudly displaying a rat that he’d killed. Their building suffered quite the infestation of rodents.

My friends and I tried not to get our hopes up, but of course we all hoped and prayed that our husbands would indeed receive one of these mid-tour leaves. Sign us up for that right away!

Immediately, we started seeing soldiers come home on pass. We were excited to see them, and it filled us with even more anticipation of “What about me? Am I next?”

And right away, Alan began his campaign to keep me from getting my hopes up.

Alan had no intention of taking any pass. If there were a limited number of mid-tour leaves available, then Alan maintained that he would not touch one. No way was he taking a pass which may cost a younger soldier, with less rank, or a father who wanted to see their children, theirs.

“April, think about it. Some of these have children they haven’t seen in 6 months. And how would you feel if you saw my boss at home while I wasn’t getting to come home? We don’t want to make anyone feel like that.”

He was right. Eventually, I had to watch all of his bosses come home on leave while Alan stayed in the combat zone. No, it wasn’t a fantastic feeling.

That’s Alan. Always taking the high road. Yes, that’s one reason I married him, but how irritating was this now.

At first I fought it.

It was hard for me to convert to this unselfish way of thinking. Alan hardly had any rank, it seemed. He was a lieutenant. That’s as low as you can go in the officer ranks, but compared to the average, young enlisted men it was a different story.

Everyone had a hard job over there. It’s war. War is ugly, but the lower you are on the totem pole, the greater the likelihood of getting the worst job (in my opinion) of all…..burning out the outhouse waste. There’s actually a registry now of all soldiers exposed to that toxin.

I didn’t want to think about who wouldn’t get a pass if he did. I just wanted HIM to get one! He deserved it. They ALL deserved it. Oh! The insanity of it all!

But in the end, I was proud of Alan for declining to take a mid-tour leave. I accepted what he was doing as the right thing to do.

I stood by and watched as one by one, all of my friends’ husbands came home for their two-week pass. Jealousy threatened, I know it did.

Sure, I was jealous. Who wouldn’t be? But at the same time, I was happy for my friends. I was especially happy for the ones who were still having a harder time emotionally and for the fathers and children reunited.

Isn’t it funny how sometimes you have to work at being a good person? Ha! I sometimes had to work at it, but not too hard. It made me happy to see my friends happy, and yes, it made me sad too. I wasn’t sad that they got to see their husbands. I was only sad that I didn’t get to see mine. Why couldn’t we ALL get this privilege? I’m sure there was a good reason, though I don’t know what it was.

Ever the optimist, sometimes I’d allow myself to dream that one day he’d just show up at my door, on a surprise mid-tour leave. Surely he was just taking me for a ride. Really he was coming home just like everyone else.

But it never happened. 

Alan did eventually receive a pass, though it wasn’t nearly as awesome as going home for 2 weeks. Instead, they sent service members who did not receive a mid-tour leave like Alan on a 3 day pass to Qatar.

He got to relax for a few days without the stress of war, and that’s the most important thing, though 3 days doesn’t sound like much. It was definitely better than nothing.

I laughed because the kitty that I was fostering belonged to an Air Force officer who was deployed to Qatar. In this case, the Air Force’s deployment location was the Army’s vacation spot. ha!!

While Alan was in Qatar, he went shopping in a local mall there. He sent me photos from the Starbucks and such to show me how Westernized Qatar is.

That crazy man purchased a full burqa for me and Middle Eastern clothes for himself as well. He thought it would be so hilarious if we wore those to the mall in Killeen whenever he got home from the war and just watch people’s reactions. I told him no way. He was out of touch (literally) to think people in Texas in 2004 would find it funny for us to dress like that and go hang out at the mall.

Alan may be extra responsible and kind, but now you also know that he has a good sense of humor and enjoys shocking people. I, on the other hand, would rather never shock anyone.

As you can see from the women’s clothing around Alan and the other soldiers, Qatar is still a very strict Muslim society.

We weren’t the only ones to not receive mid-tour leave. We were just the only ones of my close friends, so it seemed like EVERYONE got one but us.

You can also see (in the photos above) that there were actually plenty of young soldiers who did not receive a mid-tour leave. I think there may have been some sort of lottery that Alan asked them to leave his name out of or something.

I’m thankful they gave at least some of the soldiers a mid-tour leave. Some is better than none, but it was a giant disappointment for all the ones denied that leave. I don’t know. Maybe Alan wasn’t all that disappointed, but I can guarantee you that many were.

Years later, when Alan went back to Iraq in 2008-2009, we DID receive a mid-tour leave, by then everyone did, and it was so sweet. We took the boys to Disney World, and it was such a blessing that helped Joshua (then age 3) to remember who his father was.

the Persian Gulf

Be sure to come back next week for the day Alan’s parents woke me up with BIG news from the war, involving Alan! Here’s a hint: It was December 13, 2003, and I have AMAZING photos of this event.

The post The Only One Without Mid-Tour Leave appeared first on Stories of Our Boys.

Cloe, Me, and Kayla in Houston

Friday, Oct. 17, 2003

Alan,
Hey! I’m in Houston, Texas! I’m sharing a room with Elsie.
We left Killeen around 3:30 this afternoon. It’s Cloe, Elsie, Kayla, and myself. We all rode down in Cloe’s little 2-door Civic! it was a tight squeeze, but we’re having a lot of fun.

We got here at night, so we haven’t gone anywhere yet. And don’t worry, we aren’t planning on spending much money at all. Tomorrow we’re going on a tour of homes, the mall, and an outdoor concert that’s free.

Cloe’s friend Rachel came over, and we all played board games, Cranium and Clue. You would enjoy Cranium, I think.
And guess who won Clue?? Me, of course! My Clue-winning streak is still alive.

Road trip!

I enjoyed talking to you SO much this morning. I did manage to go back to sleep too–and slept until 12. 🙂 I’ve been talking about cute things you said ALL day.

It meant so much to me that you support my going back to school. Thank you so much. I promise I’m not going to let you down! And we’ll still get to go on our cruise. We’ll cruise away. Just being together is going to be SO romantic!

***********

October and November were all about studying for the GRE, applying to my local university satellite campus, and making trips with family and friends. I went to Houston, Tuscaloosa, my parents’ house, and Destin.

First, there was the trip to Houston mentioned in the letter. I remember staying up past midnight just talking to Elsie after staying up to play board games, and the tour of homes the next day was amazing. It was a tour of these custom-built houses in a swanky area of Houston. Why is it so fun to look at enormous homes? I don’t know, but it is.

Can I be that skinny again, please?? Gracious.

But the thing I remember most was that we visited a church service with Cloe on Sunday morning. I think it was a little Presbyterian or Episcopal church, where Cloe’s father-in-law was the minister. During the “greeting” time, there were many congregants who hugged us and thanked us for our service to our country.

We had not realized this one major human need that we were all missing. We talked about it all the way back to Cloe’s house.

“Wasn’t it great how they hugged us?”

“Yes, but I had a really hard time not crying.”

“Oh, I totally had tears. I couldn’t help it. I didn’t realize how long it had been since someone touched me.”

“I know! Yes! Who knew touch was so important?”

“It is. I had no idea. We should all hug each other more often.”

“Yeah, it’s like you just want to go up to people and say, ‘Excuse me, will you hug me? I haven’t been touched in months, not even on the shoulder. Just touch my arm. That will do.”

There was lots of laughter and that bond of walking that same strange and lonely married-deployed-spouse-with-no-kids path together.

Elsie, Me, Kayla, and Cloe at Cloe’s parents’ house

I don’t think any of us had realized the importance of this need for physical touch in our lives until that church service, and I know for a fact none of those church members that morning had any idea how much their hugs had blessed us….a good thing to remember when you want to help a lonely person! Sometimes it’s just a simple hug that’s needed.

1Finally, brothers, rejoice! Aim for perfect harmony, encourage one another, be of one mind, live in peace. And the God of love and peace will be with you. 12Greet one another with a holy kiss. 13All the saints send you greetings.…

 

2 Corinthians 13:12

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The post When They Touched Us appeared first on Stories of Our Boys.

I love telling you the sweet, happy stories every week, but the truth is not everyone’s story is either of those things. When one tells a story, one must tell the whole entire story. I would be amiss to leave this part out.

Shelby, the duplex neighbor I mentioned here, was still in this downward spiral. Her husband, Dylan, was overseas just as the rest of ours’ were, but she’d taken up with this Muslim man. His car was always parked in her driveway, so Shelby wasn’t bothering to hide this.

Meanwhile, she was still cussing her husband out on the phone, as well as occasionally cussing out the new boyfriend, and this was all Shelby’s general pattern so it didn’t feel like anything new to me.

One time Katherine, my other next door neighbor, asked me, “April, what about Shelby, are you not going to try to save her?” Now Katherine was saying this half-sarcastically anyway, as she had sworn off all “organized religion” for herself.

I just looked at her with big eyes.

“Nooooo, no. I am not about to deal with that level of crazy.”

I could not save Shelby. Dylan could not save Shelby. The new boyfriend couldn’t save her either. No one but Shelby and Jesus himself could save her.

My actual interactions with Shelby were few and far between, though I heard her everyday on the other side of our ridiculously thin wall.

I could count our actual conversations on one hand. There was the time I mentioned before when the police came, the time she borrowed my vacuum cleaner (and two months later I was STILL waiting for her to return it…), and the day of the spider incident.

Did I ever mention the spider incident? Well! Let ma tell ya.

I had just returned home from the grocery store. After bringing all my bags in, I was putting groceries away from off the table, and there in the middle of my dining area floor, was THE spider. I was later told that this was a garden spider, but to me it looked like some sort of gigantic Harry Potter spider. This thing was as big as my hand, and I am not exaggerating a bit!!

Terrifying!

So there we were, and what was I to do? Alan wasn’t coming home for months yet, and I certainly couldn’t kill it. No way could I get close enough to it to kill it. I do NOT handle creepy-crawly things. I do NOT. It is not in me.

“Who in the world could take care of this for me,” I thought, and it came to me. Shelby was 2 things:

1. She’s a mom, the only mom on the street, and moms do gross things… and

2. Shelby is scary herself. She could totally take this spider.

I was desperate, so I knocked on her door. It was 12pm, and she answered in her bathrobe. I’d clearly woken her up. Her bleached blonde hair was all catty-wompus, her eyeliner which is usually an inch or two thick, was all over her face, and she looked annoyed. Ha! But who was I to judge? Back then, I routinely slept until lunch time.

“Um…” I definitely stuttered through this, “Do you, um, kill spiders? There’s this ginormous one in my living room.”

Then it was her turn to get the wide eyes..”uh..Okay, I’ll come see.”

I escorted her into my living room and pointed at the offending monster.

“Ewwwww, do you have paper towels, or a napkin?”

“What!!!???” I thought, and probably SAID out loud. A paper towel!!?? I had thrown a lamp at it, and that hadn’t worked. How was she going to kill this thing with a paper towel!!??

I dutifully rolled off literally 20 paper towels and quickly handed them to Shelby.

She looked at me like I was complete bonkers and tore off ONE.

And then, y’all! She grabbed that spider up with that one little old paper towel and squashed it.

My eyes were popping out of my head. This was both horrifying and amazing.

I don’t remember if she flushed it or threw it away, but wow.

So…..all people have their redeeming qualities….and I had to respect her for this!

******

Shelby didn’t know much about me either. She knew I helped her out with her kids sometimes and the cops that one time, and she knew my husband was gone too. She probably knew all the neighbors hung out without her.

Also I should confess…..I used to sing to Shelby.

Say what?? Okay, I know that sounds weird, but it wasn’t really. See, remember we had the  thin walls. The bathrooms and the master seemed to be the thinnest, and by nature I am a singer. I can’t help it. It’s what I do. If I’m not singing, I’m humming or whistling.

I keep it in check in public, but at home, that’s my space to sing out as loudly as I want. And we all know that bathrooms have the best acoustics, right? So that’s where I sing the loudest when I really want to belt out a powerful song.

Shelby’s family needed some powerful songs, but not just Brittney Spears. They needed the gospel. So what do you think I sang? I sang How Great Thou Art and It is Well and my favorite Jaci Velasquez and Point of Grace songs.

So you might say she knew me better than you think. Was it annoying or endearing? Judging by the state of mind she was usually in, I’m guessing it was annoying. But I could no more not sing than I could just not eat, so it was what it was.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=By-8BN316mM

************

Fast-forward a few months, and one gossip talking to another gossip who talked to another gossip. Rest assured, I was not involved in this particular gossip trail, as I didn’t know any of Dylan and Shelby’s friends or co-workers….but the thing is your sins really do eventually find you out.

And Shelby left a steady trail. Dylan’s superiors in Iraq knew all about her affairs, and they did something that might surprise you.

They shipped Dylan home to get his house in order, and they switched him to rear duty, so he was home to stay.

Around the first of October, Dylan just showed up at home one day.

First, there was an epic fight. Of course. Then Dylan packed himself and his two children up and left.

For two weeks, things were fairly quiet, and the boyfriend’s car was never seen there again.

Then as suddenly as they’d left, they were back, both Dylan and the children. They moved back in with Shelby. I guess this was their attempt to work things out.

Shelby’s defense was that their marriage was over even before he left. Emotionally that was true for her, but technically it wasn’t true at all.

It didn’t take long before Shelby moved out, and for the rest of our time there it was Dylan and his kids living there. Actually, it was them PLUS Shelby’s oldest son, who wasn’t Dylan’s, but he said he was the only person that kid had who’d really take care of him.

Elsie and I went over and introduced ourselves to Dylan. He asked us if we’d be willing to testify if it came to court as a custody battle. We said we would, but we never had too. Shelby willingly surrendered them over to him.

All in all, it was a heart-breaking saga to watch play out from the very beginning, though I’m thankful that those kids do have a dad who cares for them and was looking out for them.

In situations like that, you hope for the best, but I’ve always wondered if there was a happy ending of any kind for that family. Did Shelby ever face her demons and calm down? What ever happened to them? Did those sweet children go on living with Dylan?

I like to think they did.

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The post Shelby is Busted appeared first on Stories of Our Boys.

****This post is part of the series Real Army Wives on storiesofourboys.com. This series chronicles the story of our first deployment, back in 2003.****

Once Alan had been gone for 6 months, and we were finally able to communicate regularly, we found that we began to bicker–even from continents away. We were having newlywed problems, whether we were together or not.

Alan was anxious to move us forward towards our goals in the U.S., yet he was stuck in a combat zone, feeling powerless to affect change. He wanted me to go out and buy a $70,000 house. Plus, he thought I should move us in there by myself so we could start building equity……I was like, “Heck no, I won’t go..”

I wanted him to call more. He gave me the actual reasons he couldn’t.

I was disappointed that he hadn’t had a family member send me an anniversary gift.

Granted, my expectations were HIGH, and he was never one to sugar-coat a single thing…..so we had issues….

an Iraqi flag Alan sent me in a package

On October, 1, 2003, I wrote him out this list, half-joking, half-serious, to lay out all of my expectations and avoid further arguments…

So here’s a guide for you– to save your marriage and prevent further fights.

{Alan may not have enjoyed reading this, but at least he knew how to not upset me going forward, which made for a better marriage relationship.}

Keep this in mind if your spouse deploys! It may help you! And you may even be able to say it with less sass than I did, and it would sound downright sweet…

#1. Call me every chance you get, BUT if you decide not to because….

a.) You think it’s not a good time.

b.) You don’t want to wait in line.

c.) You’re cheap.

OR

d.) You want to let other people call their families…

Fine, but you NEVER should tell me these excuses. Keep them to yourself. Don’t tell me you purposefully didn’t call! Especially for the above excuses which DO NOT help.

#2. Mid-Tour Leave– Yes, of course you want to take it.

ALL you care about is seeing your wife ASAP. You would do anything to get to see her. It doesn’t matter that you have to go back to Iraq. Even for a day with me, you’d do anything.

#3.) Pictures: Never return pictures I send to you.

How would you feel if you mailed me a picture of yourself that you thought was good-looking, and I just mailed it right back to you? HELLLOOOO!

#4.) Please record all tapes to me when your roommate is not in the room.

….This was very much a 2003 problem. We recorded each other cassette tapes. Nowadays this advice would apply more to phone calls.

For at least half of the tape, please be alone. Otherwise, you are way too official and business like, and there’s nothing mushy on the whole tape. Yuck. I hate getting business tapes about money, etc.  I just want you to be absorbed in me the person, not me the dependent.

#5.) All holiday and special occasions should be accompanied by a gift OR flowers.

Being apart does not take away your responsibility to make me feel special. For example, everyone else’s husbands arranged for them to get flowers on their anniversaries and/or birthdays. Don’t give me that crap about you can’t because you can.

Here’s how:

1- You arrange it when you have internet access.

2- Otherwise, you write a family member (i.e. parents) and ask them to send me something specific and reimburse them with a check. You have checks.

#6.) What qualifies as a holiday?

Anniversary, Birthday, Christmas, and Valentine’s Day

~~~~~~~~~~~

That’s all I can think of right now….I know you probably feel a little offended that I made you this list, but I’m just sparing us future fights by alerting you to my expectations of you as my husband.

I hope this doesn’t sound harsh. I’m not trying to sound harsh. I just don’t want to have to cry all the way to Sea World like I did the other weekend because there are some things you simply don’t understand.

Now I do realize that I’ve been guilty of the same thing, so see, I’m working on it.

My tapes have since been VERY sweet and the last one was even rated R. {Note to self, destroy all tapes.} Plus, I have increased your packages and refrained from reacting quickly to things that you say that I hope you don’t mean.

*********

No long deployment is going to happen without some disagreements. We all just have to do our best to be understanding and give each other the benefit of the doubt. Meanwhile, I think this list was a big help, especially since it was the FIRST year of our marriage!

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To read last week’s post, click here.

Several things happened as that summer ended.

Ashley, a friend of mine from church and one of the first people I’d met in Killeen, experienced a tragedy. Her husband’s XO was shot and killed.

That was personal for Ashley. These casualties of war were personal to all of us, but it hurts so much more acutely when it’s someone you know.

Just knowing a friend of a friend was killed in action was haunting. Anytime someone young dies it just doesn’t feel right. It’s enough to make you scream. Why must there be so much ugly and injustice?

Who would be next? These reminders hung over our heads. None of us were safe. Not everyone was coming back home.

Good things still happened, though. Life went on.

Towards the end of July, Bruce Berry, the choir director from last week’s story, introduced me to a sweet girl, about my age named Kayla. You can imagine my surprise when I discovered that Kayla’s husband was not only a deployed soldier, but he was in my husband’s unit! More than that, he was in the very same company, HHB, as Alan!!

Kayla was going to college in Oklahoma when our husbands had first deployed, but now she was moving into a duplex in Killeen and was there to wait out the rest of the deployment with the rest of us.

We took her out to eat after church that day with Ashley, Theresa, Cloe, Sarah, and several other church friends.

The final adventure of summer came a few days later, at the pool.

My friend Annie was in need of a pick-me-up. You see, Annie was in my teacher certification classes. She was engaged to a soldier who was transferring to Germany THAT DAY, only to promptly deploy to Iraq himself.

The day of the deployment is an emotional train wreck for most of us.

We decided to help Annie keep her mind off of her troubles with a day at the on-post swimming pool. Elsie, Sarah, Kayla, Annie and I suited up and headed out in the 104 degree heat.

Alan on the drive into Baghdad.

We all felt too guilty to even complain about the insane temperatures because our husband’s were up against 135 degree heat in Iraq. Alan always said the Iraqi heat felt like someone blowing a hot hair dryer in your face.

We were having a relaxing time, but phones kept ringing. First, Annie’s phone, then Sarah’s, so Sarah left early. I remember that Kayla’s phone had the loudest ring I had ever heard in my life, something she cleverly used to make sure she didn’t miss her husband’s calls.

Me and my Teacher Class Group…Yeah. We were the Slices…No, I can’t explain why. I have no idea why. But that’s Annie holding the sign, and remember I changed everyone’s names.

Army wives show no respect for those “Turn off your phone” signs. We reserve that right to answer our phone.

I had the feeling I should hop out of the pool and check my phone, and sure enough, the minute I did, MY phone rang! And it was Alan!!

I excitedly chatted with my husband. At that point in time, phone calls were an infrequent treat, occurring every couple of weeks or so.

Kayla and I thought it was the coolest thing when we discovered that our husbands were in the very same line to talk on the phones. One of them actually told the other, “Hey! Our wives are hanging out at the pool together!”

We probably stayed at the pool for a couple of hours, but then we were ready for lunch, so we headed over to the little Aafes gas station that had a Blimpie’s inside it.

I ordered my sandwich, poured my drink, and I was walking towards the napkins when I heard a humongous CRASH!

I whipped around to see what happened.

Chairs were upside down, and there was Kayla, laying in the floor, unconscious!!

Wha????

The Blimpie’s employees called 911, and an ambulance arrived very quickly. I helped them put Kayla on a stretcher and talked to her as she came too. Her face and chin were cut from the fall.

They decided that she was so dehydrated from being in the heat without drinking enough water, she’d passed out. They took her to Darnall Hospital to treat her. Kayla said that she had never passed out before.

We were all worried about Kayla, and it also served as a reminder of how dangerous the heat is……and where were all of our husbands? In a desert, wearing about 20 or more pounds of clothes and battle rattle, in 135 degree temperatures.

On the sofa: Kayla, Annie, Cloe On the Floor: Elsie and Me. Sarah took the photo.

Annie and I had to head back to class, so Elsie escorted Kayla to the hospital and kept tabs on her. After that day, Kayla became a regular visitor to my house and one of my closest friends.

And just like that summer was over.

Long days of eating out and shopping with my friends were over. Gone were trips to Temple,  Austin, and Sea World. No more could I spend the afternoon shooting the breeze with my neighbors in my living room.

I had my first full-time job to work. Teaching classes were complete, and now it was time to actually be a teacher. I had a classroom to assemble, in service training to attend, 12-hour working days to put in, and a whole new part of town to learn with new people to meet.

At least I wasn’t living alone anymore. This next phase of life was going to be harder than the last, and I was going to need Kitty by my side.

Training Kitty

Kitty was to be mine for 3 months, while her owner was serving in Qatar. Kitty’s actual name was Church, but I disliked that name, so I called her Kitty.

Kitty arrived just in time to bond with me before my school year started. I was a total stranger to her, and she had originally been a stray kitten that her owner took home, so when she arrived at my house, she was sort of a basket case.

Kitty’s answer to handling life’s problems was to hide from them, to hide from everyone actually. Kitty took off the moment I set her down in my house and hid in closets and under beds. Not only that, but when I’d pull her out and try to get her to socialize, she’d hiss at my friends.

This would never do. An antisocial people-phobe was NOT what I had in mind for a companion!

Kitty simply must be trained, and I’d owned a half a dozen cats as a kid, so I knew exactly what to do.

I acquired myself a spray bottle and filled it with water. If Kitty went in a closet corner or under a bed, I gave her a couple of gentle squirts of water until she came out. Cats hate being wet.

Once I had her out, I sat down with her and petted her nicely and talked sweetly to her. I won her over in no time. My only other problem was the hissing at my friends. That took a little longer to fix, but once she got used to the fact that I entertained regularly, she adjusted.

I got out a shoebox and set it down at the foot of my bed. That was her bed, and she loved it. No longer did I have to go to bed alone at night. Isn’t it funny how going to bed with Kitty in the room made me feel 100 times safer at night than going to sleep with just my t.v. shows?

It’s not as if Kitty could help me if a burglar or ax murderer actually broke in, and yet just that feeling of togetherness made all the difference. Kitty was my guardian angel those three months.

It was a good thing too. Kitty came just in time for Phase 2 of our very first deployment: the so stressed about work I could barf any second phase….in which I lost 20 pounds in 6 weeks, stopped having periods, and learned how to fake a migraine…but we’ll talk about that next Monday.

Isn’t it amazing how some friends only appear for a short while, just when you need them most? That was Kitty.

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The post Real Army Wives: Grim Reminders and My Guardian Angel appeared first on Stories of Our Boys.

This post is part of the series True Stories of Real Army Wives. To read last week’s post, click here.

Before they rode into Iraq, they camped in Kuwait….where Alan shaved his head. You can see the tent city they slept in behind Alan in the photo.

Alan was good about taking photos with a disposable camera and mailing me the cameras later on. I’m going to include a few of those pictures in today’s post.

Wed., July 23, 2003

11:32 pm

Oh! Well, I went to choir practice tonight. I left in tears.

At the end of practice, Bruce announced that he saw on Fox News today that plans are made for year-long deployments and that 4ID is scheduled to come back in April.

Granted, I have heard this several times, but not on the news! This made it feel so much more official to me. Something about it just caused me to instantly turn on the water works. I tried to fight it, but I couldn’t.

So I got hugged many times on my way out of the room. It was just that feeling where your heart hits your feet. Alan, I just love you so much.

After choir I dried my tears, still feeling blue. But I know I have a life to get on with, so I drove on post and found Smith Middle, where I’m interviewing for a middle school science position tomorrow. That way I won’t get lost.

Then I came home. I drive up, and there’s Katherine, in her gym clothes, pouring ant killer all over the sidewalk. I started talking to her. Then Phan, their female houseguest, came outside too.

Then we all came inside our house and hung out. While we were talking, Bruce Berry called to apologize for what he said at choir about the 4ID. He was very humble sounding. I could tell he REALLY felt badly. He said something like, “I should’ve thought about you sitting back there. I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking. I’m sorry.”

Of course, I told him I am okay and not to worry about it. Poor Bruce.

Katherine and Phan stayed over, and we ate and watched tv until 11. It was so nice. I really don’t know what I’d do without these girls.

I miss you, Alan. It hurts to think about missing you until April 2004. (That means we’re 1/3 the way through.) It hurts, but I know we’ll be okay. We’ve got a long road to hoe. It’s going to be so weird when I see you again. Perhaps it will be like falling in love all over again. Now that could be exciting!

Forever Yours,

April

*************

Alan sent me this photo. When there are no showers, these are treasures. While Alan was overseas, I took photos he sent me and put them into a War scrapbook. He helped me with the captions later.

*******

Friday, July 25, 2003

Alan,

Hey! I’m really sorry, but yesterday was so crazy that I did not find time to write! I never even made it to sleep!

It’s 7:50 am. I’m on a plane in Dallas. It’s still boarding, and I have SO MUCH to catch you up on.

Well, Wednesday night I found out that y’all DEFINITELY have orders to remain in Iraq until next April. 13 month deployment!! Of course, the news struck me hard, but I feel so bad for you.

I mean you are spending a whole year in a horrible desert, where they speak a foreign language and many of them probably hate Americans. I am so sorry.

But I also got called Wednesday for an interview at Smith Middle School (on post). It’s a 6th grade science position. I was so excited.

The interview was yesterday.

It went okay, but I don’t expect to get the job. And worst of all, I was competing with Eric, a friend of mine from class, for the position. He just got out of the Army in April of this year. He and I are the only ones in the 4-8 class with a science concentration.

I’ve never competed against someone I know for a position before. I’m afraid he’s a better candidate for the job. My only advantage is that I have much better people skills than Eric, but I’m not sure if I really showed that in my interview because I was so nervous.

The interview only lasted 15 minutes. Well, anyway, it was only my first REAL (post-college) job interview, so at least that’s behind me!

The principal who interviewed me was pretty nice. She just kept commenting on how YOUNG I look. At the end of the interview, she actually asked me my age–which is ILLEGAL, and she knows it because she said, “I know I’m not supposed to ask this, but how old ARE you? You don’t even look old enough to be married!”

Yeah. I told her I’m 22. I really don’t think I’m going to get that job. I’ll find out Monday.

It’s weird. All this stuff is going on in my life, and my husband doesn’t even know about it. You don’t even know that I’ll be in Alabama all weekend! I’m so afraid I’ll miss one of your calls, but I doubt it because you called earlier this week already.

I was so excited that I finally had an interview that I told everybody, so when I got home from class– at like 9:30– I had exactly 7 messages to return from friends and family who all wanted to know how it went. (Your mom, my mom, Amy, Jennings, Chrisynda, Cloe, & Sarah)

I ended up talking to your sister for like an hour. Amy and I get along really well. I think we both find each other easy to talk to. I can honestly say that if I had known Amy in college, we would’ve been close friends.

So it was 11:30 when I got off the phone, and I still had to finish packing and cleaning, so it was 1:30 am when I crawled into bed.

I was so wound up, knowing I had a 6am flight and thinking about my interview and about you being gone until NEXT APRIL– I couldn’t sleep at all– not a wink.

My alarm was set for 3:45 am. At 3:30, I just turned it off and got up.

Elsie and I left for the airport at 5 am. It has been quite fun flying with Elsie. I can’t imagine this deployment without her. We’re talking about flying home together for Thanksgiving and Christmas too! That will help so much!

You will like her husband too. I know you will because he sounds so much like you. He even wrote their home church in Daleville a letter, just like how you wrote your home church. He’s a lieutenant too, but he’ll be promoted to captain in the not-too-distant future. Well, you’ve met him once. I’ve never even met him, but of course, I hear about him all the time.

Well, we’re taking off now. Remember our flight to Jamaica? I just can’t believe I have to live in memories for 9 more months. It’s not even half way over.

But I must say, time is speeding by, which is what I want, for now. By the time we move, I’m going to be so attached to our little neighborhood, I’m not going to want to leave Texas!

However, I think we should move someplace COLDER next time. Germany or Alaska, if we still need to get in an overseas tour. But if IRAQ doesn’t count as one, that’s ridiculous!

OH!!! Does it count? Oh, if it does, can I pick the next duty station?? I want to either move back home or move to Fort Lewis. I hear it’s beautiful, and I know you liked it when you were there!

Or could we just pick a duty station that our friends are at? I’d be good with that.

…….O.K. So I hate to tell you this because I know you don’t even want a house where a cat has ever been, so let me start by saying it’s only for 3 months. Eric, in my teacher class, has a girlfriend who is TDY in Qatar and needs someone to take care of her cat until she gets back. So, knowing that you won’t be back for 9 months–which will give the house 6 months between the cat and now– I jumped at the chance.

Please understand. It’s only for a little while, and I kind of NEED this. I hope you don’t mind. I thought this would be okay.

Me and Kitty, my foster cat

Tomorrow Granny Hyde turns 90, and I will be at her party. After such a rough week, it’ll be a good time for me to be with family.

Oh! I got your 2nd package Thursday with all my letters and other letters and the Army stuff. I got doubles of the Iraq pictures you sent me in the last package, and I split the doubles between Amy and our parents. Everyone was very pleased about that.

One last thing…

What should I do about Thanksgiving and Christmas? Do I still go to your grandparents’ house and Waynesboro? Yes. Yes, for Christmas I think it would be best. I’ll just go to my side of the family for Thanksgiving though.

Y’all still make the daily news. I don’t watch it much, but I get my daily CNN news breaks. The capture of Uday and Qusay (or whatever) has really lifted hopes around here. That was indeed exciting news. How has it been received by the people of Iraq?

There’s so much I want to know about your new position in Ad Dwar and who you are friends with and what interactions you’ve had with the people of Iraq. I am so proud of you. We all are.

One of the 4-42 Coffee Group wives– I WISH I could remember her name– called me yesterday. She said there’s a group of them who get together every week, and she just thought about me and invited me. I couldn’t go this week, but I’m hoping to go next week. I do REALLY want to get to know more 4-42 wives better. The lady who called me is actually a very pregnant, cute, curly red-headed woman. I only wish I could remember her name, but it meant a lot to me to be invited.

Well, I just wanted to write you a good long letter to catch you up on everything. Sure enough this makes 11 pages. Hang in there, Alan. You’re doing such a great job. It’ll be over before we know it. (I hope!)

I love you, and I’m praying for you.

Love,

April

Maybe you’re wondering if I got this job from the interview I mentioned.

Well, no. I didn’t, but that wasn’t too surprising. It was weeks before I got another interview, and only 3 days before the first day of school, before I solidified a job for myself. My precious Sunday school teacher advised me against it. She said I should hold out for a KISD position, as they had more resources.

Instead, I accepted a position teaching 3rd and 4th grade in one classroom, at a charter school, in one of the poorest areas of Killeen, Texas.

I knew it would be a challenge, but I was excited that someone was taking a chance on a young new teacher like me. The only thing that concerned me was the 2 grades in one classroom thing and the fact that I wasn’t trained at ALL to teach 3rd graders, especially ones who couldn’t read well.

Was I in over my head……Come back next week to see what happened!

Click here for the next chapter.

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The post Mil Spouse Problems: 13 Months, The Illegal Question, & the Cat appeared first on Stories of Our Boys.