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My oldest son, Mitchell ~ was being deployed to Iraq and would be gone for the next 15 months. As I sat and drank a cup of coffee, I imagined all those across America that felt exactly like we did that day. So many saying good bye to a loved one ~ wondering if this would be the last time they'd look upon their face, or hear their sweet laughter.  I rehearsed in my mind all that I would say to my son, all that needed to be said ~ and when it came time to speak it ~ tears just rolled down my face instead.  Mitch needed no words for what I was feeling that day, for what he was feeling. We were proud, scared, sad ~ wondering what the future would hold. 15 months seemed a lifetime, especially during wartime... when you never know from day-to-day. I did not have much knowledge of the way's of the military ~ we pretty much learned as we went along. When Mitch left for Iraq it didn't just affect our family, it touched everyone surrounding us. From relatives, friends, neighbors, to those from all aspects of the community ~ who came forward to give us support, to share information and knowledge ~ or to simply just be there when we needed them.  I never realized how tense my days could be... until I heard a knock at my door in the middle of an ordinary afternoon. Not expecting someone ~ I froze in my steps. Our dog was barking insanely... he hates anyone in uniform.. meter-men, mailmen, etc.. I could not move from where I stood. Fear just overwhelmed me, the very thought that two military men were at my door telling me Mitch was gone ~ was rampant in my mind. Course it was just the UPS man. I learned early on that many of the news organizations didn't cover much of the war. Most times news of Iraq went by as a quick thought scrolling on a ticker at the bottom of the television screen, and If you weren't paying close attention you'd miss it. 4 U.S. troops killed today in Iraq... stated so matter of fact ~ when all I could think of were the families, communities ~ that just lost their everything.  I found myself becoming my very own detective, finding my way around internet sites ~ reading stories, articles on Iraq, of pain, of devastation... of war. I learned where my son's FOB (forward operating base) was. Locating it to the southeast of Baghdad near Sadr City or the triangle of death. When just days earlier I knew little of the country, I now focused on gaining any knowledge of Iraq... I studied the map like a scholar searching for answers. Packages, letters, little notes from home were sent out daily ~ anything to remind Mitch of the life he left behind, of what was here still waiting on him. A few stolen moments from a barely audible phone call... where a far off voice, fading in and out spoke two simple words, Hi Mom ~ were more precious than gold.
Tho each month brought dreadful stories and deaths ~ the Summer of 07 was most deadly for Mitchell's unit. All through June, more and more attacks were aimed at Alpha Company and its parent unit, the 2nd Battalion of the 16th Infantry Regiments, 4th Infantry Brigade Combat Team, 1st Infantry Division, Fort Riley, Kansas, which was part of the troop escalation plan. In March, its first full month of deployment, the battalion was hit by 12 roadside bombs, or IEDs ~ in April that number was 21 and in May, the number was at 27.
And then came June, when there were 80 roadside bombings, with 13 other bombs discovered before they exploded. And it wasn't just bombs targeting the battalion: There were also 52 instances of direct fire involving small arms or rocket-propelled grenades and 26 instances of attacks with rockets or mortars. By the end of the month, one soldier had lost a hand, another an arm, another an eye, another had been shot in the face ~ 19 in all had been injured and four others had died.  The story Mitch shares often is that of June 28th, 2007 when the 2nd Platoon was midway between its outpost and main base at 6:48 a.m. and an IED exploded so loudly that it was heard at the outpost and on the base... waking all. Mitch was in the 3rd Humvee when the explosion occurred, it was the 2nd one that had been hit. Mitch and other's scrambled to help their fallen comrades ~ one man lost a arm as he screamed over and over "My arm, my arm!" But near him, saying nothing at all, was Mitchell's close friend, Sgt. William W. Crow, 28, husband and father of four. He had been wearing body armor, eye protection, ear protection, a throat protector, a groin protector, heat-resistant gloves and his helmet. He had been sitting in the right rear seat of a $119,000, up-armor Humvee, behind a thick glass window and a 400-pound door. When the bomb, consisting of parts costing less than $100, exploded ~ it turned a copper disc with a circumference of perhaps six inches ~ into a huge bullet that penetrated the right rear door of the Humvee as if it were nothing. Mitch desperately tried to help his friend, he told him to hold on as they scrambled to get medical support. Sgt Crow stared at Mitch not saying anything at first ~ then softly spoke of his family.. tell them... ~ I love them.  Mitch stayed with the Sgt. all the way to the hospital, refusing to leave his side. Standing there in the hall, his uniform, boots covered in blood ~ Mitch waited... not moving. And when he finally did move, it was only to fall to his knees as he learned his friend, mentor ~ Sgt Crow was gone.  For every fallen soldier, whose very life is summed up by a few simple words that scroll across the bottom of our television set ~ as just another number, another killed. One must realize that for every number, there is a name, and for every name, a husband or son, wife or daughter is lost, and a family, community grieves. What already seemed like a lifetime, had only been a few months ~ Mitchell's unit still had to serve 10 more months in Iraq....    Time, days, months seemed to move ever so slow after that, but we made it through, Mitch made it through. After serving 14 long months in Iraq. Mitchell's Unit was ordered to deploy back to the States. And on a beautiful Spring evening ~ April 10th, 2008 @ 6:25 p.m. ~ our hero came home.
In our excitement of having Mitch returning home ~ safe, whole. We cannot celebrate whole-heartedly, for we must honor the many fallan comrades who left with this unit ~ but who did not return with them. Instead they came home, in a flagged draped coffin ~ at a quiet, sullen airport ~ no fanfare, no celebration. Mother's and father's lost sons, daughters.. children lost daddy's and mommy's... communities all over this nation lost many brave, young treasures.  We also cannot forget those wounded, who sacrificed all, who gave all. Whether you believe in this war or not ~ the troops and their families should always have our utmost support. For these young men and women, who are far away from home ~ come from communities all across this great nation, so similar to our own. They were once our paper boys, babysitters, altar servers, waitresses, basketball stars... or the one who carried groceries to your car. The families and relatives hold up the soldier, reminding them of life back home. Communities hold up families ~ offering support, sending packages, letters.. sharing a little piece of home. For all of you that have given support to a soldier, a family ~ by simply sending a letter, a package, saying a prayer, or holding a hand... know that the soldier thanks you.
We shall never forget those that have fallen: those who were wounded .. those still serving... those to still serve... and those coming home; As the hero's they are, as the hero's they shall forever be. 
Just wait though wide he may roam |
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