Installment 6

November 16, 2009

Tales from an Army Wife: First Deployment
Installation 6

There’s something about the darkness that evokes certain feelings within us. It may be mystery, fear, uncertainty, maybe even inhibition. I suppose that’s why we go on dates at night, and maybe why we feel sadder or lonelier at night, if that’s what is in our minds. I suppose this may have something or not have anything to do with how I felt, sending my husband away for a year…..at night. Walking out of our house, with his bags as the sun set. Loading up our daughter in the dim light of our driveway. Pulling into the base. Gravel. Soldiers wearing bright parking vests, motioning us where to go. The pink streetlights casting a movie-like glow over cold concrete hangars, metal storage boxes with the 3rd Infantry Division logo displayed on them. One soldier motioned to us, and told us “family members were only allowed in one area, as the other area was sterile.” The chill that came over me at that moment wasn’t just the autumn wind…I honestly felt like I was in a movie, slow motion, at night. The darkness covered us, but the pockets of light revealed clusters of people going through exactly what I was going through…the goodbye portion and start of deployment.

As we walked into the hangar, the darkness was cut by the huge fluorescent lights above us. A spartan arrangement of tables were in front with water, snacks, information and, of course, boxes of tissue. All around me, I saw them….the soldiers in uniform, carrying their issued automatic weapons over their shoulders. The children, running, playing, coloring, or being read to by the parent who was about to be gone from them for a year. Many single soldiers reclined against their bags, earphones in, passing the time until departure. So many personal stories filled this huge building.

The walls were lined with homemade banners. Much like those at a football game. Painted with sentiments and company names. But these banners weren’t for a game…they expressed not only thanks but the hopes of safe return for warriors…the soldiers..the fathers…the husbands…MY husband included.

The doors were concrete floor to ceiling. Rusty with large, chunky bolts and screws. I had the feeling I was inside an old, rickety “Death Star.” The darkness outside felt surreal. But, the bright light inside felt just as much. These were to be my last moments with my husband for an entire year.

I chased our daughter, as she, like the rest of the small children, didn’t understand and wanted to run. After corralling her in the stroller, the clock began to bang loudly in my ear. No longer a gentle tick, as my time was about to be up.

After an announcement, the soldiers began putting on the rest of their gear. At this point, the climate in this large area changed quickly. We all knew the time had come…I watched my husband as he wiggled into his Kevlar vest, snapped his Kevlar collar around his neck, and strapped on his automatic weapon. We pushed our daughter outside, back into the darkness. The night surrounded us again, as he would soon leave us and go to the ‘sterile’ hangar. The eerie pink lights shone around us and the chill returned. My husband kissed and held our daughter. He hugged both his parents. As we embraced for the final time, I couldn’t help but cling so tightly. This began to feel like a car wreck that you were expecting. You can’t believe it’s actually happening, it doesn’t seem real, but yet it IS happening and you can’t stop it. Every second starts being sucked away, into the darkness. I had to let go…I had to say goodbye. After the last “I love yous” he turned around, and my hand held his until it finally slipped out, as he walked away from us…into the night….