Pulling at the heart

Sometimes I guess you just don't realize how much things affect kids, especially when they are really young.  My son is 14 months old and in his little life, daddy has had to be gone multiple times due to being a soldier. 

The first time I realized he really noticed was when he was about six months old.  Daddy was gone for about a month to assist with a training rotation.  As I picked my son up out of his crib one day, he noticed a picture of daddy on the wall and started pointing at it and saying 'dada', 'dada'. 

He's been gone for shorter periods of time since then, but earlier this week because of an issue with another soldier my husband was put on a mission last minute.  He came home and told us he was leaving the next day for about three weeks.  As my husband was working on packing, it was like our son was trying to 'help' by unpacking what was already packed. 

The heartbreaking part for me came the next morning.  Since my husband had to leave so early, our son was still sleeping.  He went in and told him he would see him soon and he loved him.  A few hours later as I knew their take off time was approaching, I started listening for aircraft since I knew they would have to fly our direction to head to their destination.  When I started to hear them, I grabbed our son and ran to the back door to keep an eye out.  As the aircraft started to come into view, we stepped on the to the back deck so I could point them out.  It only took my son a second to get his eye on the aircraft and start pointing and yelling daddy.  I told him to tell daddy bye bye and as I was watching him wave and say bye bye daddy, the big reality of everything sunk in - based on other training he has scheduled and a pending deployment we would be saying bye bye daddy so many more times in the next year or so.  Each time, he is going to become more and more aware of what that means - although based on what he did after the aircraft were out of sight and we went back inside - he has an understanding now.  I sat him down and for more than 15 minutes he sat right there at the back door pointing towards the direction that daddy had gone saying bye bye daddy. 

A little laugh...

This is probably going to be more comical for those who know me, but I thought it might at least bring a laugh to someone.

Earlier this week, shortly after my son laid down for his nap, I went in to take a shower.  All of a sudden I started hearing what sounded like a banging noise, almost like someone was trying to break in our house.  Given that there have been a few day time break ins in the area, I wasn't going to take any chances.  I jumped out of the shower and grabbed my robe, my husband's AR-15 and some ammo.  By this point in time adrenaline is running and thoughts aren't exactly the most clear.

As I'm slowly creeping into the living room, I realize that the noises I were hearing weren't the sound of someone breaking in, but it was the artillery being shot from post.  Since we live a ways out, we don't normally hear it, so it wasn't something I really thought about when I first heard the noise.

I headed back to the bedroom, cleared the weapon and got back in the shower.  I was thinking though... you know that would be a crappy way to go - the last thing you see is a pregnant woman in a robe with an AR. 

God works in mysterious ways

There are some days that just remind you of how true the phrase 'God works in mysterious ways' really is.  Today is the three year anniversary of the shooting at Fort Hood. 

Shortly after hearing about the shooting, my first thought went to a soldier of mine who was in Afghanistan.  His dad was a senior ranking officer at Fort Hood at the time and did most of the coordinating for events such as where the shooting had taken place.  At the time, no information had been released as far as names of casualties or the specifics as far as what had taken place.  I tried contacting his family to confirm everything was okay and see if there was anything they needed from me as far as getting in touch with their soldier (at the time I had just shifted from downrange to the Rear D). 

It took over a day to finally reach one of the family members that told me that their dad was safe.  That he hadn't been there when the shooting happened, but had been a first responder.  There was only one reason he hadn't been there... the soldier forward who always waited until he knew his dad would be off work to call him, hadn't waited that late that day.  There wasn't any particular reason he didn't something off schedule that day, just thought he would give his dad a call.

That call made all the difference.  Since he was on the phone with his son, he had been a few minutes late getting to the building.  His dad then became a first responder trying to help those who were wounded. 

In the weeks that followed, names were released and more information was posted about this individual who had turned a gun on those in the same uniform he wore.  No amount of explanation can ever make me understand that thought process - but I continue to remember those lost that day and the reminder that God has a plan that we may not always understand.

The not always visible

A little bit ago I saw a post by a fellow female veteran that really bothered me.  She is now a military spouse and happens to be pregnant.  For those who aren't familiar - most commissaries have early bird shopping available for the disabled.  Given that she is a disabled veteran, she took advantage of that time, but it wasn't a good experience. She received dirty looks like she didn't belong there at that time. 

I happen to belong to the same group she does... someone who is a disabled veteran because of a back injury that is a direct result of service to our country.  For me, this is already a sore subject because I feel like the 'invisible wounds' aren't acknowledged as much as they should be.  Yes, I still have all my limbs, no, I don't have any shrapnel scars - but I'm constantly in pain because of a back injury that can't be fixed.  Most days if you saw me walking down the street, you wouldn't look at me and think I was a veteran and you wouldn't think I was disabled.  I'm proud like that...  I walk with my head held high because I'm proud of my time in service.  I'm proud to be part of less then the 1% that have worn the uniform.  I'm proud of my tours to Iraq, and knowing that even though when people hear I was a soldier and happen to be a female - that I didn't fall in the typical role they tend to associate female soldiers with. 

I guess my point is that you can't always judge a book by their cover.  Don't look at me and assume because I'm a spouse that I really don't understand the military - I wore the uniform and happened to have been the same MOS as my husband, I understand more about the military than you will ever know.  Don't look at me and assume that because I'm a female veteran that I spent all my military time in an office - I manned a machine gun in the back of a Blackhawk helicopter my first deployment and I was a MEDEVAC crew chief my second deployment.  Don't look at me and assume that just because I don't look like there is anything wrong with me that there isn't - I suffer daily from constant back pain, post concussive disorder (TBI), and PTSD. 

Bottom line - if you don't know, don't assume... 

Who your friends are

Last night I was driving home and heard the song 'You find out who your friends are', and it really made me start thinking.  This seems to be a common trend when moving to new duty stations...  you meet a whole lot of people right off the bat; some will stick around, some you will find more differences than similarities and then some just fall of the face of the earth after a while.  At first this drove me crazy, but then I can to the realization that some people are worth your effort and time and others just simply are not. 

I guess this is part of the process when moving from place to place.  You will keep a few friends close from your last location - maybe the person that helped you when you were sick and your husband was gone, or the friend who helped make the deployment more bearable.  You simply find out who your true friends are.  It's great to have a lot of friends, but I honestly would rather have a few friends that are true to me than having a lot of friends that are hit and miss.

My bottom line has become if someone causes stress or drama in my life - they aren't worth my time.  I have some awesome Army wife friends who are fun to hang out with, are willing to help if it's needed and they don't add stress and drama to my life.  From now on, those are going to be the people that I keep around...everyone else can take their drama, self-centerness, etc and go somewhere else. 

I survived

I saw something this morning this is very true...  It said 'Someone once asked me how I hold my head up so high after all I've been through. I said, it's because no matter what, I'm a survivor.  Not a victim.'  I have found on more than one occasion that I have become a victim of a situation, but through each one I have found a new strength, a new faith.  I have learned who my true friends are and those who I could let go of.  Bottom line - I survived....

I survived being raped by someone I had known since I was a kid, someone I had worked with and our families had spent time together.  It was tough, I spent more days crying than anything else, sleep was hard to come by, but I didn't want to get out of bed.  But I survived and I stood my ground by facing him in court.

I survived being beat up by someone I was dating, someone I cared for, someone I thought cared for me, someone who ended up sending me to the ER.  Then because I had scratched him once in the whole situation when he had me pinned down by my throat and was blacking out - he called the cops on me.  I was taken straight from the hospital, arm in a sling and all, to jail.  The judge ended up dismissing my charges.  But I survived and I became a stronger person for it... 

I survived two deployments - granted day to day tasks are sometimes a challenge, I struggle with back pain, with speech and memory issues due to a TBI and being oversensitive to noise and overcautious when I go places due to PTSD.  But each day I get up and face the new day that has been given to me... another day with my husband and my son, another day to share my story and hope that it may help someone. 

Life isn't always going to be easy - in fact, most days it's probably going to be more difficult than we probably planned, but the bottom line - it's not our plan.  We have an opportunity to make the most of each day given to us.  I have survived those past days and although those will always be a part of who I am, they will not control who I can be.

A perfect picture isn't always the picture that's perfect

Earlier today I had a client tell me that she has wished her hair hadn't ruined so many of her and her husband's pre-deployment pictures.  I shared with her a realization that I have come to over the years both with taking pictures and with life just in general.  When we have pictures done, we all hope for that picture perfect moment where the smiles are just right, our hair is exactly in the place, all the kiddos are looking at the camera and smiling their best smiles. 

The reality is that's not how things happen.  Often times those perfect moments may be caught for a split second, but most the time they don't happen at all.  A few hairs, if not a chunk of hair is out of place, the kiddos are looking in twenty different directions or when they are looking at the camera, they have a cheesy smile that is not at all what was envisioned. 

The session this lady had been talking about was a pre-deployment session as her husband is preparing for his first deployment.  From past experience, I have learned that the moments when you need those pictures the most when you are deployed - you appreciate the ones where things weren't perfect, because it reminds you a memory.  It may make you think of a smell or a situation, either way, outside of letters and the occasional phone call, those are what get you through the deployment. 

I'm just as guilty as anyone of trying to make the picture just right, but the short conversation that I had with this lady made me think of my son's session last night.  I had planned on taking him to the park and doing his pictures outside, but he has allergies and they were bothering him - so we ended up doing the studio setting.  He wouldn't let me take his binkie and he wanted to hold his comb.  After it was all said and done, and with a little help from my husband, we got the binkie and the comb away from him and got a few smiles.  But in the midst of the rest of the pictures are him crawling away and trying to climb out of the little Radio Flyer he was in... and you know - that's ok...  Because in a few months when he's walking, I'm going to think back on the days he was crawling and be happy I have those less than planned pictures to hold on to.

Small towns

Small towns often get overlooked because they don't always have all the amenities to offer like bigger towns or cities do.  There is one very large positive about smaller towns, they remember. 

They remember what it's like to be patriotic, they remember to fly the flag and they remember to bring the flags to half staff when an order is to be executed.  They remember that Independence Day isn't just about fireworks.

Last year, we had just arrived back from living overseas for the past five 4 of July holidays.  We had missed the parades and the fireworks.  My hometown is one of those smaller towns and last year we watched at the outpouring of community involvement in the parade and other activities throughout the day to commemorate that day.  This year, we were in another smaller town hours away, but the outpouring was the same. 

Along the streets kids proudly waved the flag and the parade was ongoing.  After the parade was a ceremony done in honor of all veterans.  They actually run their ceremony for five days here, which includes concerts and a car show among other activities.  Events like this is something that bigger towns have gotten away from.  They put on the traditional firework show, but that's the extent of it. 

It was nice to see that some haven't forgotten that the 4th of July is a holiday for celebrating with fireworks, but it's also a holiday to reflect back and salute those who have continued to keep this country free for the last 236 years.  May we never forget those who have served this country and the sacrifices they have made. 

How do you answer a thank you?  Sometimes it's hard especially when it's someone thanking you for your service.  There is the simple 'you're welcome', but often times it just doesn't feel like that is appropriate.  'It was my pleasure' also doesn't have the right ring to it.  And then there is the way to respond when the individual thanking you is someone who themselves have served too.  It doesn't seem to matter what direction you go or what choice of words, none of them ever seem just right. 

Some days...

So some days are better than others...  I think that is a statement that almost anyone in or around the military can relate to.  Just like with everything else, I have good days and I have bad days.  Days that I'm in a lot of pain and days that it is managable, days that I'm overly paranoid and days that nothing seems to bother me.

This time of year things are a little different.  Fireworks used to be one of my favorite things.  Our family ran a fireworks tent every year, I can't remember a year growing up that we weren't either at the tent or watching fireworks. 

Last year, we arrived back to the States in June after being overseas for the previous five 4th of Julys.  I felt like I was in culture shock... you see, the last time I had been home for a 4th of July was prior to my first deployment.  Prior to the anxiety and being paranoid.  Prior to PTSD.

I heard the fireworks going off throughout the week leading up to the 4th, but most of them were far enough away not to bother me.  My parents, husband and I hit the fireworks stands and we were all excited to get some stuff to shoot off, afterall we had five years to make up for.  The night of the 4th we went out to my cousin's house and even though I could see where everything was coming from, I still felt like the cat hanging from the ceiling after someone had spooked it.

Shortly after the 4th was when we moved into our new house, in the short months before our son was born we were frantically unpacking.  Then our son arrived and life became even busier than before and the thoughts of the 4th drifted away. 

Until last night....

I heard what sounded like someone banging on one of the doors downstairs trying to get into our basement.  I started panicking and I was quickly armed, pistol in one hand and my phone in the other.  I called my mom and asked her to stay on the phone with me until I checked everything out.  As I checked each room and saw nothing was wrong, I quickly moved on to the next room.  When I finally moved downstairs, I could feel my body tensing up, but I was ready for what, if anything, I would find. 

After everything checked out and I was heading back upstairs, my mom brought up fireworks...  I hadn't even thought about it being that time of year until that moment.  A little while later, I heard the same noises again and as I listened intently, I realized that it was fireworks.... 

love letters

The other night I did pictures for a military spouse.  Her husband is currently deployed, so she wanted to do something to surprise him.  I had come up with an idea for a picture, but given that most anymore rely on technology, I wasn't sure if she would have what was needed for the picture. 

I sent her an email with the rough idea for my picture and she said that wouldn't be a problem.  This picture was going to require a letter.  With all the different forms of communication that are out there, the handwritten letter is something that is not seen very much anymore whether in the form of military love letters or just a simple thank you to someone.

This spouse told me that although they skype and email back and forth, she writes him at least a short handwritten letter everyday.  During my husband's most recent deployment, he was able to get a cell phone where he was, but we never used Skype and often times there was minimal to no signal at the remote sites he was at most of the time.  For us, the handwritten letter was our primary form of communication.

This made me think of a couple things.  The first is the box of letters that carry with them a little bit of the dirt from where we were at in that moment, they carry a little bit of our smell and on some there are small spots of either sweat or tears depending on what was in the letter.  That is something you won't ever get in an email.  My second thought was thinking back to the wives and mothers of wars past, who had nothing more than snail mail as a way to keep in touch with their soldier. 

The second thought has come to me many times as I wonder how many of us would survive as military spouses if we had nothing more than that one tie to our soldier.  Or sending them off not having even a rough timeframe on when they would be coming home.  In a day where casualties are a fraction of what they were years ago and where technology has protected our soldiers in ways not even imagined in the past, it's easy to forget how difficult it was years ago. 

I guess for me, sitting down and writing my husband when he is gone is a way to send a little bit of me to him in the form of seeing my handwriting and maybe catching a slight scent of me.  For us, this form of communication that is often looked at as ancient or a way of the past, is the main thread that binds us when he is away. 

Photos for Soldier (http://photosforsoldiers.com) is an organization that provides free photo sessions and a CD of all the pictures at no charge to deploying service members and their families.

Father's Day

Today we celebrate fathers.  It's my husband's first year celebrating as a daddy to our nine month old son.  As I watch him play with our son, feed him and rock him to sleep, it makes me think of what my dad was first dealing with thirty years ago. 

His first father's day I would have been a little over five months old, I'm sure he was as overwhelmed as we have been in this first year of parenthood.  Now he's a grandpa.  But even though I'm grown, married and have a child of my own, inside there is still a daddy's little girl. 

When I joined the military, I was scared to tell both my parents, but I was more nervous about telling my dad.  I had been going to college, but hadn't quite finished yet when I enlisted.  I was worried that he would be disappointed, but just as my dad has always done he had nothing but a sense of pride in what I was doing. 

The day I left for basic, we all struggled with goodbye.  I didn't really know what was coming, and they didn't know what they were sending me off to.  It was a post-9/11 Army and everything was already active in both Iraq and Afghanistan.  A little less than two years later I found myself getting ready to head overseas.  My family came down the weekend before I deployed and when it came time for them to head home, we all knew things were going to change. 

Fifteen months later when I redeployed, my parents were there in Fort Hood to welcome me home.  As the buses pulled up in front of Cav headquarters, I was scanning the crowd looking for them.  The first person I saw was my dad, who was standing on the field with a couple other individuals.  As soon as we marched across the field and the order dismissed was given, he was the first one to meet me on the field.  Nine hours later we would return back to that same field and he would meet his future son-in-law. 

I look back over the years and all the memories, the games of catch, fishing and camping, the practical jokes and the slightly off key singing.  I would imagine that his first father's day all those years ago that he probably imagined all the different possibilities on what path I would take, none of which are probably anywhere close to the path I took. 

But there has never been a moment where I felt like he wasn't proud of me and no matter how old I get, daddy's little girl is always going to be a part of who I am.

237 years

237 years, it's amazing to look back and think of all the history in that time.  The wars, the Soldiers, the sacrifices, the Fallen, the families, regulations and manuals, weapons and ammo.  A culture that has become a lifestyle for many, with its own traditions and language.  But one thing hasn't changed, the backbone of those in uniform. 

The Soldier has consistently stood for freedoms, not just for those in the United States, but in countries that many people had never heard of, on missions that most don't know exist.  They have provided the opportunity to live in democracy, to say what you feel, to have a mind of your own.  Countries that have told the USA to stay out, whose people have fought our Soldiers, have not deterred the mission of Soldiers to provide a better life for them. 

Many, too many, have made the ultimate sacrifice for a cause they believe in.  They fought so others didn't have to, but often they left behind families - mothers and fathers, spouses and their children.  Some of them will never know their Soldier because their Soldier perished before they were born or had a chance to meet them. 

For 237 years, it has been easy for those who have never worn the uniform or loved someone in the uniform to judge how they may have handled a situation or that they 'choose' to leave their family for a year or more at a time.  They have protested at the funerals of our Fallen and said hateful things, but these military professionals still get up in the morning and don the uniform and face an enemy to protect those back home and to continue providing the freedom to protest.

Some may never understand why anyone would join the Army (or any other branch of service).  But for every Soldier there is a story; a desire to serve, a college education, a way off the streets.  And although some come and stand in the ranks for a short period of time, they are forever a veteran.  An individual who at one point in time wrote a blank check to the citizens of the United States for an amount up to their life to ensure that the freedoms our founding fathers set forth, will continue to be the ideals that their children are able to enjoy. 

To the Army, Happy 237th Birthday, here's to so many more!

Remembering the Fallen

Yesterday, I attended a tour called 'Remembering the Fallen'.  A couple out of Nebraska started this as a way to honor the fallen from each state.  I have been to memorials before where there have been large numbers of individuals who come out to remember, but yesterday was a little different.  Most of those in attendance were the families of the fallen.

The initial ceremony included a roll call, in which the family members each stood at the podium and read the name of their fallen loved one.  As I heard names that I recognized, emotions started welling up.  But the one that hit the hardest, was the young son of a fallen soldier who read his daddy's name while trying to maintain his composure.  Such strength and courage in such a small package. 

After the official ceremony was complete, the families stayed around for a bit.  Since they had been there for viewing an hour prior, most had seen the pictures of their soldier and left a note already.  But as they stood around, they introduced themselves - many already knew each other from other events such as this, but they offered open arms to those who had more recently joined this small group.  They consoled each other, they talked about their heroes and they smiled and laughed as they shared some of the stories they like to remember. 

This is a group of families that has truly embodied the meaning behind no one left behind.  They ensure their heroes aren't forgotten, but they also ensure that none of the families who are going where they have been are left behind.  In their loss of a part of their family, they gain an addition to their families who help them to remember those they lost but who help them move forward.

Watching these families together was truly amazing and is an experience I will not forget, just as I will not forget those they ensure are remembered. 

SGLI & DD93

SGLI and DD93 - two of the military terms that most know.  They are a part of every preparation for deployment, TDY training or anytime there is a life change in a soldier's life.  I filled out more than I can count during my time in, but now I'm on the other side of things. 

During the time we were dual military, my husband and I were on listed on each other's paperwork.  Today, however, was the first time he has updated his paperwork since our son was born.  Although it's another military form, these are probably some of the most important forms to fill out. 

I learned when I was going through the Rear D Leaders Course shortly after getting back from my second deployment, that most forms are filled out incorrectly or aren't updated in a timely manner.  As the instructor spoke to us, he described different situations he had seen.  They ranged anywhere from an 'twice removed' ex-wife receiving everything because the current spouse hadn't been correctly added to the paperwork to a situation in which a soldier stipulated that part of his benefit be left to his child (who wasn't born yet), but didn't state in the remarks that his wife was pregnant, so before anything could be done they required a paternity test to ensure the soldier was the father. 

As we sat in awe of what seemed like a complete lack of common sense by the military, we all thought back to how our forms were filled out.  Most of us were just at guilty of not properly filling out the documents.  In most circumstances when soldiers are filling these forms out, it is during one of these pre-deployment round robins where so many soldiers are processed through and there is the assumption that they know how to fill out the paperwork so it really isn't covered.  It just makes me wonder if this speaker had seen those two situations himself, how many are forms our there are incorrect and the soldiers don't even know it. 

I know it may seem silly to double check that information, but no different than many other things that my husband will have me double check from time to time, this is one of the most important. 

D-Day

D-Day...  this is a term that is familiar to most, but the true history behind those four letters is often vaguely known.  On June 6, 1944 160,000 allied troops stormed the beaches of Normandy.  At the end of the day, the allied forces had gained at least somewhat of a ownership of the beaches, but the cost was high.  Over 9,000 allied troops were either wounded or killed in the invasion. 

This was not the end of their journey...  from there over 100,000 troops continued forward in what resulted in the initial defeat of Hitler.  In the defeat, they also freed multiple countries from his reign as dictator and released thousands from concentration camps. 

While stationed in Germany, we were able to travel to some of the places that became famous for connections to the Third Reich and Hitler.  Dachau concentration camp, Hitler's Eagles Nest and the stadium in Nuremberg that Hitler had big plans for...

All of these are now locations where you can walk where these individuals walked - some leading the tragedy and others facing their end.  The cold-hearted and those having their hearts broken.

Those soldiers that marched forward and risked their own life in hopes of saving anothers - someone from another country, someone who probably didn't speak their language or have their same beliefs.  They fought for freedom for others, like many before them had done and many who have come after them have continued to do.

Not just Memorial day, not just D-Day, not just Veteran's Day, but everyday these service members should be remembered.  For those whose life they saved haven't forgotten...

The Normandy American Cemetary and Memorial in Colleville-sur-Mer, Normandy, France.  The cemetary honors American soldiers who died in Europe during WWII.

Eyes of a spider

During the DUSTWUN missions, there was a small amount of down time.  A group of us decided we were going to head out to the aircraft to try to catch a short nap before we had another mission come down.  Since the senior crew chief on the aircraft I was on had already gone out to snooze, he had taken up the larger area to lay down.  So I laid down on the ground with my head up against the tire.

Shortly after falling asleep, I felt a little bit of pressure on my chest.  I didn't think much of it until the pressure felt like it was moving.  As I slowly opened my eyes thinking it was one of the other crew chiefs messing with me, I came eye to eyes with a massive camel spider.  As I quickly ran through what I should do, all logic went out the window as I jumped up and started screaming. 

The other crew chief heard me scream and jumped up and when he realized what happened he couldn't stop laughing.  Luckily, he went back to sleep relatively quickly and later I think he thought it was something he had dreamt about and I didn't bother correcting him... 

After that I didn't sleep on the ground, I found a way to somewhat comfortably lay in a small spot next to one of the crew chief seats.  Just goes to prove that you can sleep anywhere if you are tired enough.

Saying good-bye

The day I was heading back to Germany was the same day that the bulk of our company was leaving Iraq for Afghanistan.  Since my flight wasn't scheduled until that evening, I went down to the flight line to see them off.  As we stood there going through the general process of 'moving', I watched the soldiers get all their bags loaded on the pallets.  My husband and I took a couple pics together and in true fashion for him - most of them were a little goofy.  Finally that time came...

Since I had deployed with my husband we hadn't done the official 'see you later' like most of the families had.  Even though we had been in different locations the majority of the time we were deployed, we still were able to see each other from time to time...all that was changing now.  I was being sent back to Germany to start treatment on my back and for a head injury, my soldiers and my husband were leaving to Afghanistan. 

I walked around the little terminal they had there and said bye to each of my soldiers, wished them luck and reminded them that if they wanted or needed anything to let me know. When I got to my husband, I tried my best to choke back the tears that wanted to fall.  I have a little different perspective than most get into the true picture of deployments or even the daily tasks of their service member, as I have been there, but I am also had the same job speciality as my husband - so I know exactly what his job entails and the dangers associated.

I left as they were called to start boarding.  I stood there for a minute and watched them all walk away.  When I was out of sight, the tears started.  In that instant, there was a feeling of failure - I had let my soldiers down by not being there with them like I had told them I would be prior to deploying, I was letting the families of those soldiers that I had met down as I had promised I would watch after their child and I wasn't going to be there for my husband...  Even though I had fought to stay with the unit to move on to Afghanistan and the unit leadership and doctors were the ones that decided otherwise, I still felt like this was on me. 

As I started to head back to camp, there was no other spouses to 'be' in that moment with me and understand what I was going through.  I felt completely alone...  That feeling was doubled when the reality sunk in that I was heading back amongst our unit's spouses - of which, I knew not one.  Everyone I knew was moving on to Afghanistan. 

A handful of soldiers remained at the camp to finish up the last minute details or those that were getting ready to go on midtour.  I took my time getting back so I would ensure my face didn't show the aching that I was feeling.

That night I said another round of good-byes to the soldiers that were still there and then I was taken to the TMC to get ready for my flight back to Landstuhl. 

Pictures at the terminal:

 The one picture I got my husband to actually not make a silly face for.

Quite a video

This morning, I watched a video that a friend of mine had posted.  It showed an older veteran who took his grandson and friend to watch a screening of some of the old war films from the WWII era.  At the end of the video, a few soldiers walked into the back of the theatre....  slowly, each person stood to salute the current generation soldiers.  By the time the video was over, my emotions were on high, tears were sliding down my cheeks, pride was welling up.  

As I watched this, I thought back...  a little over five years ago, as I was rushing through the Atlanta airport trying to catch my connecting flight an old man stopped me and extended his hand and shook mine.  Then he proceeded to thank me for my service.  I was on my way home on midtour from my first deployment and I was standing there in uniform not having a clue what to say.  I noticed the hat the man was wearing 'WWII Veteran', not that I needed that to identify him as being a veteran.  The words quickly came to and I promptly thanked him for his service too. 

He stood there for a second and his eyes seemed to glass over for just a second and it became obvious time had moved backward very quickly for him in that moment.  His eyes began to glisten and his face distorted a little, then he blinked and smiled.  He reached his other hand up and patted me on the arm before telling me I better get moving if I was going to catch my flight.  As he walked away, I wondered what glimpse had popped back in his mind.  I guess I will never know what he saw that day, but as I began heading towards my gate something told me that maybe he just needed to hear those two simple words.  The simple words that have evaded so many veterans for so many years because too many who have never needed to hear them don't know just how important they are. 

Everytime I see a veteran wearing a hat that say 'Korea', 'WWII', 'Vietnam', etc Veteran, I always make an effort to go up and thank them for their service.  Sure, by now - they have probably heard it at least once or twice, but it still makes my day to see the smile they get on their face, knowing that the younger generations may not have been around for their wars, but we still remember...


http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AgYLr_LfhLo&sns=fb

Memorial Day

As we are quickly approaching this Memorial Day weekend, I think of all those long weekends growing up.  Often times we were camping and out enjoying the weekend, but I still grew up with an appreciation for the reason behind Memorial Day. 

Neither one of my parents were in the military.  My mom was born into an Air Force family, even though my grandfather retired before she was very old and my dad was drafted after high school, but was turned away due to medical issues.  But red, white and blue has always ran through their blood.  This was passed on to my sister and I. 

At every parade we have ever been to we stood when the American flag went by, our hand are always over our heart when the National Anthem is played.  The flag pole in front of my parents house has handprints from when my sister and I were very young and unless there is bad weather you can count on the flag flying. 

This pride and patriotism isn't something that was brought on by 9/11 or anything besides just simply pride in being an American.  To my parents, that pride doesn't just include flying a flag or wearing red on Friday - a large part of it is honoring those who have served and remembering those fallen.... those who gave the ultimate sacrifice, whether in these wars or those wars from days past. 

I've always believed very strongly in the quote from Calvin Coolidge, "The nation which forgets its defenders will be itself forgotten".  Please remember his words as you prepare to head out for the weekend or to a cookout, that this isn't a day to be taken lightly.  It's a day that honors those who sacrified, a day that many take with a grain of salt, while the loved ones of those servicemembers bear the weight.

This bracelet is one that I proudly wear in honor and memory of these three wonderful soldiers.

That list...

Before I was retired out of the Army, I had this running list of things I would do when I got out.  It's been almost a year and a half and I don't think there is one thing on that list that I have done. 

My fingernails have still never been painted.
I still carry a knife with me most of the time. 
My hair is still within regulation hair color.
It's a rare day that my hair is down.
I almost always still carry a notebook.
I rarely wear jewelry besides my wedding ring.
I still stock up on personal hygiene stuff in prep for the next time we have to leave.
It's still called personal hygiene.
My shower consists of less than ten minutes (and that's if I have to shave).
The Soldiers Creed and NCO Creed can both still be recited word for word.
Acronyms seem to be getting more abundant rather than less.
I have to stop myself from giving my social versus my husband's.
Most days I still wake up at O'dark thirty.
Light on the right is still one of my commonly used terms.
When I see a soldier whose uniform is messed up, I still want to say something... and female soldiers who can't figure out how to fix their hair within regs is still one of my biggest pet peeves.

One of these days I'm sure some of these things will finally change, but for now it's just a part of who I am.

Quick reaction force

In order to facilitate the occasional emergency mission within an air assault unit, there is a quick reaction team.  During the first deployment, when you were on this crew - it was normally a day to find something to do because normally you weren't going anywhere. 

One of those rare occasions came and we were launched.  A humvee had hit something that had caused it to rollover upside down into a ravine.  The soldiers that were in the humvee were trapped there, so time wasn't on our side.  We launched having to go to another FOB to pick up a dive team before we headed to the actual rollover site. 

When we were picking up the dive team, they seemed to be in no big hurry.  We were all getting a little impatient given the circumstances.  As they brought their gear out onto the flight line, they left it sitting in a big pile a little ways away from the aircraft and loaded up on the aircraft.  When we asked them about it, we basically got 'loading that is your job'... we promptly corrected them and they took their time getting back out of the aircraft as we worked on loading it. 

We finally took off out of there and headed to the location, which happened to be right next to a little village, so everyone was on the defense.  As the crew chiefs helped guide the pilots into land, straw started flying around everywhere.  We tried to maintain visual of both the ground and the village, but the straw was creating a nice block. 

After we landed, we started downloading the equipment... then the dive team stopped us and told us they weren't sure they were going to stay.  I relayed the message to the pilots who were as in much disbelief as I was.  The majority of the dive team went and sat down on the embankment that led up to the ravine and waited for orders from their team leader.  Finally, the pilots told me to go tell the dive team we were unloading their stuff.  Two blackhawks sitting on the ground were setting ourselves up as giant targets. 

The equipment was unloaded and the shortly after the dive team started gearing up to start their dives.  We took off and headed back to Taji to await word for pickup.

Surviving deployment, but not home

Fifteen months - way to long to be in Iraq for a deployment, but like most we survived it.  In OIF 06-08, our battalion made it through the whole 15 months without any deaths.  We had some injuries, but everyone had made it.  We were the only battalion in the brigade to have not sustained any casualties.  That was including one aircraft being shot down....

Upon returning from deployment, we had a four day pass before heading back into work for a couple of days to do all of our post-deployment processing and health screens.  Then it was time for leave.  Since our shift from a 12 month to a 15 month deployment happened about halfway through, many of us had already been on our midtour, so this some's first leave in anywhere from nine to twelve months.  Everyone left with the determination of making the most of it.

We didn't last the first weekend.  Unfortunately, like most units that have returned from deployment, we lost a soldier that first weekend.  This is a truth that has repeated itself all too many times in the last decade, as soldiers either return from deployment and are doing things to try to match the optempo from when they were deployed or the adrenaline rushes they were often in the middle of or just simply the type of accident that you see from time to time for whatever reason.  Either way, this ends up being extremely dangerous and often ends up with injuries or worse. 

The soldier we lost that weekend had been one of the door gunners.  Since most of the gunners were attached to the unit shortly before deployment, throughout the deployment was when they got to know everyone... this were the guys we sat around with and BS'd about things back home or what we wanted to do when we got back.  You learned about their spouse and kids, where they were from.  Then as you are all sitting in Kuwait waiting for your flight to come down the list, you think you are done, you celebrate the fact that we are returning home.

This soldier was killed in a car accident the day after leave started, his family was in the car with him when it happened.... they are survived but had injuries.  It wasn't until about a week later that I heard about the crash and the loss.  It took me back to those days sitting in the crew chief office in Iraq and all the dumb stuff you sit there talking about or the occasional times that things would get serious when the rare emotion would be shown.  To make it through a deployment and then lose their life upon returning home...

the second day

The second day of DUSTWUN missions was quite different than the first.  I was on night shift this time and we were now a couple weeks into the search, so they had refined a little more of where they were searching.  One of the soldiers had since been accounted for, he hadn't survived the initial attack, but they had still proceeded with throwing his body in the river after they had decapitated him. 

During one of the raids in the last couple of days, they had found a video that had been recorded by those that had ambushed the soldiers, they had planned on using it for propaganda based on the person who had it when they found it.  Since we didn't have many missions scheduled, one of the individuals there asked us if seeing the video would give us an idea of what we were up against.  We all debated on whether it was something we needed to see and eventually we sat down to watch it.  I stayed in the room for a few minutes before the anger hit and I stepped out.  Within a few minutes the rest of the crews had walked out as well.  We already knew the reason for our mission there and had been doing everything we could to help them find these soldiers, we hadn't needed to see the video to validate that.

Throughout the night we ended up having two missions - one was a leaflet drop over one of the areas that they suspected they may have had the other two soldiers.  In Arabic, they stated that anyone who had information pertaining to the soldiers or anyone who had anything to do with the attack to please come forward and they would be rewarded for doing so (helping Americans often meant their families were attacked in retaliation).   

The second mission was another one that added emotion to the night....  The officer in charge of us from the unit there asked if we minded taking on a mission that didn't have anything to do with the DUSTWUN operations.  It was already time for us to head back and we were pushing being out of legal flying duty day, but when he told us what the mission was for we all quickly agreed.  The day prior a soldier within their division had been killed in action and the hero mission to start his trip home had already taken place.  His wife was also a soldier and was located at a FOB on the other side of Baghdad.  The initial processing of her husband had taken place and it was time for her to join him to escort him home. 

When we picked her up, she seemed calm for the most part, but you could tell that she had been crying.  I helped her get into the aircraft and secured.  I don't know if it was the fact that she was joining back up with her husband or all the other possible scenarios that she could be dealing with at that moment, but as we were taking off I could see that she was starting to cry again.  Within a few minutes, she was crying so loud that you could hear her above the sound of the helicopter.  My heart was breaking for her and the journey she was getting ready to begin without her husband.  After we took her to where she was supposed to be dropped off, we were all quiet - not understanding what she was going through but feeling a pain that we had never felt before.  This was the only mission like this our battalion conducted during the deployment, but it was one that came back to me when I married another soldier.  I think of her often and the fact that she didn't have the support of other spouses around her when she needed someone to understand her, there was no care team waiting for the notification to be made so they could step in to take care of her.  There was just a helicopter crew who didn't know her, nor could they understand what she was going through - there was no meals to comfort her or words that could be said.  We were trained to deal with many aspects of war, but how to help a widow wasn't something that we knew anything about...

DUSTWUN

DUSTWUN is one of those acronyms that I had heard before, but just at five years ago I was one of many soldiers that became involved in the actual search mission for four soldiers in this status. DUSTWUN or duty status whereabouts unknown is the classification a soldier is placed before they officially become Missing in Action (MIA). 

The unit these soldiers were assigned to didn't have an aviation element so for a couple of weeks before a unit became co-located with them our crews were on 24 hour support for anything this unit needed.  Due to the nature of the mission, we were split in 12 hour shifts and were authorized to fly that whole time, which took the authorization of a general.  Bottom line, they wanted these soldiers home. 

These soldiers had been providing overwatch due to some suspicious activity, but later it was determined that the 'suspicious activity' was a ploy to get a unit out to that location where the enemy could ambush them, which is exactly what ended up happening.  One of the soldiers was found shortly after and his body had been set up to conceal a bomb.  They search for the other three soldiers continued on. 

I was on the DUSTWUN mission twice during those first few weeks.  One day shift and one night shift.  As with any military mission, everything is always subject to change.  We were doing some standard personnel movements during the day shift, as we were coming in to drop off some of the passengers, over the radio we received word that there were new orders and we needed to drop all pax (passengers) upon landing and we would be further briefed at that time.  One of the senior officers for the battalion there came out and took over my ICS (the intercom system for the crew to speak to one another) while I worked on unloading our current passengers and helping what appeared to be a group of infantry soldiers get loaded and secured.

I hooked back up to the ICS and was filled in on what was going on.  We were doing a daytime air assault (which is extremely rare due to the threat).  There was a local sitting in the seat next to my crew seat and they informed me that this guy has been able to identify the three missing soldiers, which to this point names and pictures had not been put out for security reasons.  He had told the individuals interrogating him that he had buried these soldiers at a certain grid coordinate and that's where we were heading.  As we were flying out there, my anger started spiking...  I didn't care what this guys role was in the situation, but as far as I was concerned he had blood on his hands!

As we landed out at the location this guy had identified, I noticed some trucks pulling up in the distance.  We were out in the middle of nowhere and there was just a few small buildings.  Where these trucks had pulled up was out in the middle of the desert, so something was off.  As we were taking off, I looked again and noticed that there were at least five guys that had unloaded from these trucks and they were uncovering something in the bed of their truck... something wasn't right.  I said something to our pilots and we flew over them again hoping to scare them off, but they didn't budge.   At that point in time I realized what they were uncovering - weapons.  These soldiers had been lead into an ambush, but this time they had support.  Two Apaches were inbound, less than two minutes out.  So we remained on scene and I had my 240 on target and ready to fire if given the order. 

The apaches arrived as we kept watch and our pilot made the call to let the gun ships take over, so we headed back to base.  As we were flying away, through the radio traffic we could hear that the pilots of the gun ships had confirmed what I had seen and shortly after that you could see that they had ended this attempted attack. 

Nothing was found out at that location by the soldiers, it was simply another attempt to attack soldiers.  Needless to say, the local they had taken out there remained in captivity. 

Mother's Day

Mother's Day has been a day that I have honored my mom for the last thirty years, this year is a little different for me though.  This is my first Mother's day as a mommy myself.  Yesterday our son hit the eighth month mark.  I know other moms will understand the thoughts of 'where did the time go?!?'.  Every day is like watching a new adventure and exploration. 

It seems like it has been no time at all since he was born and needed help with everything.  In the past few months he has become more mobile between rolling, scooting, crawling and walking with assistance.  He has had his first official baby sitter and now has his first bruise to show off.  I was so upset when he tipped over and bumped his head, but I held him while he cried about it and tried not to let him see my tears.

I know we have just begun this journey and there will be many more bumps and bruises and I can already hear myself saying the words 'this hurts me more than it hurts you'.   I remember when I used to hear that growing up and all I could think was 'really?!? and how is that?' but I now understand what those words meant.  There are challenges that we have come across already that I couldn't have come close to imagining before I was a mom and I know there will be so many more to come. 

In this short period of time, I have seen a glimpse into the last 30 years for my mom.  I think every mom wonders if they did things right or hopes they don't 'mess their child up' and from conversations I have had with me mom - those are thoughts that never go away.  I think we will all make mistakes in our lives and how we may handle a situation from time to time, but that's part of what makes us humans.  This gives me some comfort in going forward as a mommy and I hope I'm able to follow in my mom's footsteps and become a wonderful mother to my son as she has been to me. 

Happy Mother's Day Mom!  I love you!!

Military Spouse Appreciation Day

What is a military spouse?  Although it seems like a term that we all hear on a regular basis and don't seem to think much of - this term is much like the term mom.  It is used on a regular basis and most of the time it tends to be thrown around without really thinking about all that is wrapped up in that one small term. 

A military spouse may be a parent and on many days they are both parents, they encompass all the terms that already come with being a parent.  They are resilient and strong.  They have become professional movers and administrative assistants. They are financial planners and keep track of their soldiers LES, which I've learned that most married soldiers don't know how to get into anymore.  They deal with the bad and celebrate the good.  They help with unit fundraisers and change their own oil.  They mow their yard and shovel snow.  They go to school and volunteer.  Often times they work on top of everything else.  They are a listening ear when their soldier needs to vent.  They know the regulations, many times better than their soldier. 

They are there when those in dress uniform make the slow walk to their front door.  They are there to support those spouses as they deal with the grief.  They maintain the homefires, they stand besides their wounded warrior.

They wear no uniform, but to think they don't serve would be inaccurate beyond words.  For they serve by standing proudly with their soldier when they are here and supporting them from afar when they are away.  They serve by helping their wounded warrior learn how to walk again and by the tears that soak into the flag that drapes their soldiers casket.

These spouses seem to get overshadowed by their soldier in uniform from time to time, but they don't complain because they are proud of their soldier and they are proud to serve their country in the silent ranks....

Today as Military Spouse Appreciation Day is celebrated and every other day, these spouses and their sacrifice needs to be remembered!

Transitions

Dual military is a term that is becoming more popular among service members anymore.  My husband and I fell in that category for a large part of our four year marriage.  Right before my husband came back from his last deployment, I received an upgrade to my permanent profile that would later mean the end of my Army career.  As I neared my separation date, I wasn’t really sure what to expect.  Since my husband was still active, we stayed at our current duty station until six months after my separation. 

During that time I struggled.  Being dual military and at the time we didn’t have kids, our whole world revolved around the Army and being soldiers.  I would run into former soldiers who had been moved to other units prior to my retirement process and they would still call me SSG King and each time I would smile and tell them it’s just Mindy now…  But inside, I missed it.  I missed flying, I missed wearing a uniform, I missed going to work every day (at the time we were stationed in Germany and jobs were very hard to come by, especially when they knew your spouse was already on orders to PCS). 

Over that six months while we were pending our move back to the states, I kept getting bigger and bigger.  It was a good kind of bigger though.  Shortly after I was retired, we found out that we were expecting our first child.  The emotions that came with being pregnant and missing this former self of mine became overwhelming at times.  During that period, I was also diagnosed with combat related PTSD. 

I felt like I was in a downward spiral, but then I realized something.  I wasn’t done helping soldiers.  I may no longer wear the uniform, I will never deploy again, but there were other things I could do.  Over the last fifteen months, besides welcome the most amazing little boy into the world, I have put in hundreds of hours of volunteer time – from helping with the thrift shop on post to working food booths at bizarres and payday cafes.  I’m an active volunteer with the National Military Family Association and within a few weeks of our arrival at Fort Riley, I became my husband’s units FRG co-leader.  I have found other ways to serve, by helping soldiers and their families… 

I now stand among the silent ranks…  I wear a uniform, but now it consists of a company logo tshirt instead of camo.  I serve standing beside my husband as he proudly wears the official uniform.  Looking back, I know my struggle was with my identity and a lot of it had to do with pride and there are days that I still miss serving, but looking at what I have been able to do since then, I wouldn’t change a thing.

Invisible wounds

What is an invisible wound?  It is something that affects your life, whether minor or drastically, where the injury or 'wound' can't be seen.  This could be anything from PTSD to a TBI (Traumatic Brain Injury) to an internal injury that you may not be able to see by just looking at the person.

I have struggled with these invisible wounds for a while.  I was medically retired from the Army with a 40% disability, the VA later bumped that up to a 70% disability, but yet when people look at me they don't see anything wrong.  This confuses people and I think sometimes there are thoughts that I played the female card or something to get to that rating.  I have invisible wounds....

What most people don't see is the daily challenges.  I don't like complaining about them or even really saying things most times, because I didn't lose any limbs or have extreme PTSD and I made it back alive.  But I struggle, some days more than others.  Most of this is only seen within the walls of our home, as when I am out I try to present things as if everything is okay. 

Friday after having a set of eight injections done on my back, I received a text from a good friend of mine and she was asking me some questions about it.  She told me that they she never realized how bad things really were, how much pain there was and how little treatment there was available for most of it.

That's the thing about invisible wounds, people almost need to be able to see an injury to validate that something is there.  I have a back injury that prevents me from doing a lot of things that I really enjoy doing. In the next couple of months I will have different procedures done on it to try to help with some of the pain.  The post effects from the TBI causes almost daily migraines, vision loss, memory and speech problems.  And the PTSD, although minor, causes angry outbursts, lack of sleep, very little patience, etc, etc... It seems like every appointment to the doctor is another upgrade in the type of prescriptions to make everything level out. 

But everyday I wake up, I'm thankful for what I have and for a family that is supportive and for a husband who knows exactly what meds are for what and who keeps a watchful eye over me.  He doesn't fire back when I have an outburst and he keeps me from lifting things I shouldn't.  I still feel like I have something to prove when it comes to being able to do things, but I have to take a step back and realize that I don't... 

Not all wounds are visible and just because they are not visible doesn't mean they haven't forever changed the course of an individuals life.

Life doesn't always go how you plan, but there is always a plan in where you go.

From time to time, I am asked whether I miss being a soldier or not.  I miss being a soldier more than I can say.  In my time as a soldier, I did things that I never had thought I would be doing - from deploying to Iraq, flying on Blackhawks, manning a machine gun and the list goes on and on.  I also grew in ways that I couldn't have imagined - anything from becoming a combat veteran to taking finishing my Bachelor's degree.

I came into the Army a little later than the average entry age.  I was 22 when I joined and 'celebrated' my 23 birthday on our first FTX in basic training.  I had other jobs prior to the military, I had worked at a bank and two different bowling alleys for a number of years prior to joining.  My life didn't change in the typical way it does for most that join the military, I wasn't straight out of high school, this wasn't my first time living away from home.  But that doesn't mean the Army wasn't a complete change for me.  Life as I had known it no longer existed.  Daily PT (Physical Training) sessions became a way of life, I knew how to expertly iron my uniform and polish my boots, how to read a compass, throw a grenade and fire a weapon. 

When something changes your life this drastically, it changes your path in life.  Now don't get me wrong, there are some things I don't miss, such as the early morning PT session when it's below freezing out - for that matter, I don't miss PT in general at all.  I don't miss some of the individuals that have no business leading soldier, but by education or time in grade/time in service they found themselves in those positions.  And I do not miss police call, I guarantee I picked up more than my weight in cigarette butts throughout my time in uniform.

I do miss a lot of things though...  I miss wearing the uniform and the pride that comes with that.  I miss flying, going out and shooting from time to time.  I miss working with soldiers, trying to help them through the regulations and solve problems.  I miss deploying and the team that is built in that.  I miss running through the airport heading home on leave and older gentleman stopping you to thank you for your service and then proceeding to tell you about when they served in WWII or Vietnam.

I miss being a soldier, but looking back I know it was my time to separate from that segment of my life.  I will still always be proud of my service, nothing will ever change that, but I have adapted to my new role - that of an Army wife and mommy.  I have just as much in pride in my service to my country as I do to those in my household.  Life doesn't always go how you plan, but there is always a plan in where you go. 

The day I left on my first deployment

Half our heart

It is always amazing to me how something literally half a world away can tear at your heart. Within the last few weeks, so many of the wonderful spouses I knew when we were in Germany have sent half their hearts away for yet another deployment. 

As I have seen each one post pictures of their last weekend together for a while or pictures of deployment day, I understand the journey they are getting ready to embark on.  I've spent a lot of time with these spouses, as many of us endured the last deployment together.  We met challenges together and when the end of the tour came, we decorated together and then when they were home, we celebrated together. 

But you see, there is a funny thing within that...  Because as we said goodbye to them to deploy, another group was looking forward to them getting in country, the unit they are replacing.  As tears are filling one spouses eyes, another is prepping for their soldier to come home.  A true and complete opposite of each other.

All of this takes place outside of most people's field of view.  They may see pictures or video on the news or posted on the internet, but they will never feel the emotions as you see that uniform walk away or the overwhelming joy and your heart skipping a beat when they march into that welcome home ceremony.  To most it's another picture of a soldier and their family, but to the person whose arms they are in - they are the husband, the father, the wife, the mother, the son, the daughter, the hero, the protector, the soldier that so quietly sacrifices.  And it is their family who keeps the homefires burning and supports their soldier while they are away. 

This job isn't easy, it was never intended to be.  But none the less, it is a job that has to be done.  So next time you see a picture of a soldier deploying or coming home, remember that to us they aren't just a uniform - they are the other half of our heart. 

Sandstorms

One of my least favorite things about Iraq (and there was a bunch of them) was the sandstorms.  When they hit, it was like everything stopped.  We weren't able to fly in them, so it meant that work slowed way down.  When work slows down, so did time... 

It didn't seem to matter how well something was sealed or buckled up, sand still got into everywhere.  If you walked outside even for a minute, you felt like you had just eaten a cupful of sand and attempting to wash your hair after one ended up with more of a mud mask than actually getting things clean.  Couple the wind and sand with the extreme temperatures and sweating, no stone was left unturned on placed you would find this stuff. 

Even when you were inside of a building, just from people opening the doors to go outside would let in enough so there was a 'fog' in the hallways.  For days after, you would continue to find all the little nooks and crannies that the sand had found it's way into.  It just added another aspect of unpleseantness to the already sucky situation...

Oh the funny things in life...

Oh the funny things in life...  Yesterday there was a fundraiser with the FRG at the hangar our company works in.  About halfway through I bent down to give my son a couple little snacks.  When I stood back up the backside of my pants felt a little looser, but we were busy so I didn't think much of it at the time. 

Later in the day after I was home, I was playing with my son on the floor when I felt a draft.  I reached back to find that my pants had a huge tear in the backside of them running right next to my pocket. I don't know how big the tear was at the time of the fundraiser, but hopefully no one saw any part of my backside.  Those jeans are not retired and I got a little laugh out of it...

Riding for our troops

For the last few years there has been an event back home called the Troop Support Ride.  This like many of the events and activities that riders across the country participate in and run are not always understood by the majority of people. 

I've never participated in the Troop Support Ride because we have been overseas during the time it has been active, but both my husband and I have been on the receiving end.  The riders that participate in the TSR start planning for the next year, the day after the event is over.  They fund raise and find sponsors, they collect items and plan.  And the end result is sending hundreds of care packages to soldiers who are currently deployed. 

I happen to know a good number of the people that participate in these kinds of events, they have supported my husband  and I throughout our time in service, through deployments, welcomed us home and sent us off again.  But for most that receive these boxes, they don't know nor will they probably ever meet. 

During both of my deployments, I have had amazing support from my family, but what always floored me was the boxes and letters that people from across the states had sent.  People I would never meet saying how much my service meant to them and how they wanted us to have a little comfort of home, whether it was a little Christmas tree, homemade cookies or something as simple as a homemade card from a child who had done their rendition of a flag or a soldier.  Many of the letters and cards I still have tucked away in a box. 

When you are deployed and you receive that random box from someone you don't know, it takes you aback.  It helps you to realize that there are other people out there besides your immediate family and friends that know where you are and appreciate what you are doing.  Not only are they aware, but they have actively made an effort to let you know they support you.  Mail is one of those things that is listed as a morale lifter and for good reason... a good number of days during deployment just plain suck, whether it has just been excessively hot, you didn't get a chance to eat or on those horrible days when one of your missions was a Hero Mission.  When you arrive back and stop by to check to see if you have mail and there is a box or letter waiting for you, it shows a light at the end of the tunnel. 

Too many times, troops are extremely busy forward and they don't always have the chance to write a thank you to these individuals, so often they don't know the impact they have made.  But all those hours planning events like the Troop Support Ride or a send off/welcome home or any other event that supports our troops is beyond appreciated by those who reap the benefits of that work.  I know I am just one former soldier, but if I could have captured the looks on service members faces over the years as they have received these boxes or received a welcome home - it would be clear how much all of this truly means.  So from the bottom of my heart - Thank you!!!

It's amazing how people come into our lives

I was walking through the craft section at Wal-Mart Friday night trying to find something to add to a project I was working on.  A small package of purple beads caught my eye.  I glanced down at the rubber bracelet I had been wearing for a couple months in honor of Kathy, a family friend who had been battling cancer, and the words were barely readable.  Friday had been a month since she had lost her fight with cancer. 

I quickly started going through the other beads and looking at the other components that I would need to make what I was envisioning.  The concept was there, but the final product was going to be iffy.  Once we were home, I sat down and started putting everything together.

The final product actually looked like what I had pictured.  I was pretty proud of my first piece of jewelry, so like many people I took a picture and shared it on facebook.  I didn't think anything of it until someone asked me how much I would charge for them. I posted the price annotating that half of the price would be going into the donations for the half marathon walk I'm doing later this year for cancer research.  I was suprised that by yesterday afternoon, there were orders for nine bracelets. 

So today I found myself back at Wal-Mart trying to get everything I would need to make those and a few extras.  As I was checking out, the lady working the register stopped as she was ringing up the beads and made a comment about how pretty they were.  I showed her my bracelet and explained the whole thing including who they were in honor of and where the money that was made from them was going. 

She stopped for a second and then went on to tell me that her dad had participated in some walks for cancer research in the past and she continued by telling me that he had multiple melanoma.  She paused again for a second and told me that she had just found out that she had cervical cancer.  I was floored.  The look on her face told that she was having trouble still saying it and it seemed that this is something she hadn't shared with many people.  I think she had even surprised herself by saying it.  She told me that she was always interested in supporting a good cause and asked for a way to contact me.  I gave her a few of my photography cards and said good-bye.

As I walked out to my car, I was fighting back tears...  This woman had maintained a smile on her face, while she explained all of this and the fact that she had three small children.  She had told me how much of a blessing her children were in keeping that smile on her face and how she believed that's why God gave them to us.  It was an extremely humbling experience, it's truly amazing how God works in our life. 

Boards

One of the 'events' that most enlisted soldiers find themselves in at some point in time are Soldier of the Month boards.  I was no exception to this...  My first board was a few months into my first deployment and lets just say I flopped, miserably. 

About eight months later, I was sent to the Battalion Soldier of the Month board again. Since it was the last opportunity individuals who were trying to get recommended for the promotion board had to be recommended, there was a total of 22 soldiers competing.  There were also ten NCOs competing for NCO of the month and promotion board recommendation.  My last name started with an S, so I became the bottom of the list of 'compete'.  The board began at 9am and it was 830pm before I finally went in.  I did very well and ended up finishing on top. 

A month later, I found myself at the Brigade board.  I came in second there, which was a good thing.  The division board was two weeks from that time and I was in the middle of my APART (annual flight evaluations) and finals for my college classes.

The remainder of the deployment and my time at Fort Hood I managed to avoid these boards. 

It started all over again when I got to Germany.  Our 1SG made all soldiers being considered for promotion attend a company Soldier of the Month board before being recommended for promotion. Within my first 60 days in the unit, I attended and won the board and was recommended for promotion. 

I attended my promotion board a few weeks later and about halfway through, the CSM stopped the 1SGs from asking questions and told me to say the NCO Creed.  I said the creed and then he promptly kicked me out of the board.  As I stood outside, I thought I had done something wrong until my sponsor came out.  He had a huge smile on his face and my nerves calmed for the most part.  Later in the day when the scores were read I had received 150 out of 150.

This prompted a whole other round of attendance at boards though.  Just three weeks after I was officially pinned SGT, I was at my first NCO of the Quarter board for Battalion.  I ended up coming in second because the total points counted weapons qual and more recent APFT (I was on a permanent profile for my back, so points are calculated differently).  I assumed that had ended me being a 'Board Baby'.  Was I ever wrong!!

When the next quarter board came up, the CSM told me I WOULD be there.  I attended and this time I won the board, so off to the Brigade board I went.  I took first at the Brigade board, but by saving grace, I would be able to attend the NCO of the year board.  Our company was offset from everyone else for deployment at the time, so the NCO of the year board was going to take place a couple months into our deployment.  That didn't stop them from talking about sending me back from Iraq to compete in the board. 

A little over a year later, I found myself in my last board.  I was standing in front of the CSM and 1SGs in this capacity for the last time as I tried at attain promotable status to SSG (Staff Sergeant).  I walked out of that board promotable.  Within a month, my medical board was initiated and less than a year later I was medically retired.  When I was going through the boards and all the studying and prep, I hated it.  Looking back now, I know that a lot of that 'useless' knowledge I had memorized as fallen into place in many different situations and continues to now.

SPAM!

During my time in the MEDEVAC in Germany, we pulled med duty at both Grafenwohr and Hohenfels any time there was training going on.  The crews would go out and stay for about a week at a hooch that had been established there until the next crew came out at the end of a week to rotate.

Since most rotations were pretty quiet (a very good thing), we did quite a few training flights while we were out there.  The first rotation I was on, I was actually doing my refresher training since it had been a year since I had flown.  During one of our training flights, we had left one of the pilots at the hooch (we had three out on the rotation with us).  As we were landing and shutting down, we saw fire trucks screaming down the road next to the flight line. 

Our first thought was that the trucks were heading the hangar that the OC (Observer-Controllers) used for their aircraft.  That thought went out the window when the trucks turned in next to the hooch.  The aircraft was almost completely shut down, so the pilot told us to go see what was going on. 

We quickly headed down off the flight line and worked our way around the fire trucks to see what was going on.  As we walked around to the front of the hooch, we could see fans running in the doorways.  Finally, we saw the pilot who had been there and a couple of the firefighters. 

Apparently, the whole ruckus had been caused by some SPAM that had been overcooked and started smoking bad enough that it had set off the detectors.  Since it was the middle of January, leaving the doors and windows weren't the best option so the rest of the week it smelled like burnt SPAM throughout the hooch.  The pilot left there with a new nickname and a few pictures to remember the event by....

We don't want your brain to boil

During my last FTX (Field Exercise) in basic training, I came down with the flu.  The weather wasn't the greatest, it was early February in South Carolina and it has been sleeting, rainy and cold the whole time, which probably hadn't helped the situation.  I was taken to the hospital and spent the next day on quarters with IVs hooked up.

Each morning, a doctor came through and evaluated whether you could go back out to your training unit.  I was still running a low grade fever, so the doctor wanted to keep me there for another day.  Throughout the whole cycle, the drill sergeants had been telling us that if we missed so much of certain training events and missed the final ruck march (13 miles) in from the field that we wouldn't be able to graduate and would be moved to another BCT unit to complete the training.  My parents had already purchased plane tickets to come out and I didn't want to get shifted back, I wanted to complete training on time with my battle buddies.

I begged the doctor to release me and after about 15 minutes of going back and forth, he told me he would release me, but he would keep the bed set up since he knew I would be back within 24 hours.  I considered what he said for about two seconds before I asked again for him to release me and he did.  I was taken back out to my unit in the field.  I arrived back in time to help tear everything down and to pack my rucksack for the march. 

I was feeling okay as we headed out.  As the sun started to set and it started getting cooler, I couldn't seem to keep up with my nose running and I'm not sure how tactical sneezing is, but I tried to cover the sound as much as possible.  By about halfway through, I was feeling pretty cruddy.  Finally, as we were marching down the street that we all knew led back to the our basic training barracks, we all felt the sense of accomplishment.  We still had over a mile before we would be in the clear, but we had 12 miles in our rear view. 

As we arrived back to the barracks, there was a bonfire going and music to celebrate the completion of training.  Everything from that point forward was the outprocessing and graduation of BCT.  After the ceremony was complete and we had each received our Army Values tag, we went inside to have cookies and punch.  This may seem a little weird, but after not being able to have sweets during training, it was a reward. 

By this point, I still wasn't feeling well, so I said something to one of the Drill Sergeants.  He sent me to the duty Drill Sergeant to have my temperature taken, it was 104.3.  The duty Drill told me to go up to my locker and back a bag with a couple nights worth of personal hygiene and clothing.  I was upstairs less than ten minutes getting everything together and then I reported back down to the duty Drill.  He told me that an ambulance had been called to take me to the hospital and he decided to check my temperature again.  It had risen to 104.7. 

About that time, the commander walked out of his office and was told I was the soldier being sent to the hospital.  In a poor attempt to comfort me, he looked me square in the eye and told me in a voice like he was explaining something to a two year old that they had called an ambulance for me because they didn't want my brain to boil.  At the time, all I could think was 'is this guy serious?!?', he already proven to be a little less than intelligent, so this kind of encouragement just topped the cake. 

I was taken to the hospital and ended up being there for two more days and missed the huge dinner to celebrate the end of BCT, but I finished all my training and was able to graduate with the rest of my rotation the following Friday.