A Tribute to My Soldier

It’s Memorial Day– a holiday that for me primarily indicated an extra day off of work, some fireworks and a possible picnic. With my husband Michael on his second deployment in two years, the holiday takes on a whole new experience.

Michael has served the U.S. Army National Guard since he was 17 years old. That’s just shy of 23 years total.

When I met Michael in 1996, he had recently moved to Arkansas to teach sniper school. (I admit I found that incredibly intriguing, not to mention downright sexy.) Mike is an amazing shot with an extreme understanding and love for guns and ballistics. Beyond that, though, he simply is one of these solidiers with “Hooah” in his blood.

Those “grunts” who are truly called to infantry, like Michael, are an unusual breed, and it’s a mindset I honestly don’t get. There’s something in these men that makes them salivate at the idea of battle. During training, it’s what makes them laugh at things like “getting smoked” (a.k.a. “Drop and give me 20”), sleeping in freezing rain or bug-infested heat, eating nasty chow with a spoon (that’s all they get – a spoon) and so on. It’s also what allows Mike to now laugh and eat peanut butter crackers when his vehicle is dodging IEDs and under fire by the Taliban.

Mike left the infantry about 10 years ago, something that was honestly very painful for him to do. But he had a once-in-a-lifetime job opportunity to work full-time for the Guard in their Marksmanship Training Unit, building guns for the national shooting teams. And he also had a wife to think of, and later children. So while in many ways he got his dream job, he had to give up on other dreams, like going Special Forces.

Since February, Mike has been on his second deployment. The first was in Iraq and it was a horrible experience. Not because of the war, but because of the boredom. An infantryman swept away from his wife and two young children then stuck overseas behind a desk. Downright miserable.

So when we decided to take his current deployment to Afghanistan – and yes, it was an optional deployment – many thought we were crazy. We had our reasons, and while they were all legitimate, perhaps the biggest reason was that he was actually needed for this one.

Mike grew up in a small town in Iowa where farming is second nature. The community’s primary job source, however, is the meat packing industry, and Mike served his time both working in a plant as well as helping build one of the facilities. He’s also an amazing machinist and fabricator. Beyond all of that, however, he’s just plain smart.

So he’s in Afghanistan where he and his fellow troops will hopefully be teaching the locals better farming techniques so they can break free from growing poppies for opium and begin to feed their families.

It’s a noble cause. A pretty concept. And while I’m proud to have him serve, the truth is, it’s nowhere near fairytale land.

When Mike’s unit arrived in Afghanistan, it was as if no one remembered they were coming. The troops had no place to stay. They sat around for weeks while Mike traveled to location after location just to find room for them to stay. Then they were put in tents with no electricity. (Mike thought that was funny, fyi.)

After finally setting up shop, the troops slowly began with their mission.

Many of the Afghan locals live in mud huts. They have no food or water. They have no sewage systems. Their babies are starving because their mommies cannot produce enough milk. They need the Americans’ help. If they accept that help, however, they risk getting their heads chopped off by the Taliban. And the Taliban are rampant where Mike is serving.

For awhile, I only heard from Mike about every other day. I’ve learned to recognize that when I don't get an email from Mike, it usually means there is a blackout, ie., somewhere closeby a soldier has been killed. (He's late writing me tonight, so I'm just wondering and trying not to worry.)

Perhaps this hit home most closely to Mike a few weeks ago. At lunch, he teased one of the independent contractors about eating so much ice cream. “What can I say,” the guy chuckled. “It’s my one vice.” Later that day, the guy was blown to bits by an IED.

But Mike is infantry. He misses us, yet he’s pretty happy over there truth be told. And for that, I’m pretty happy too.

I’m proud of him for all he’s doing, More than that, though, I’m proud of him for all he’s being. Things that are completely opposite of who I am and often beyond my understanding. These are the things I fell in love with almost 13 years ago.

Little things, like eating goat liver and heart with the locals and actually enjoying it. Taking cookies and tea to the Afghan truck drivers stuck on the base and unable to contact their families. Making fun of the guys whining about the lack of electricity or limited showers. Wishing he’d been on the truck that flipped and almost went off a cliff after being fired upon by the Taliban. (And yes, he was supposed to be on that truck.)

These are the things that make my husband my soldier. For these things, and so many more, I am proud to be his Army wife.