Harry S. Truman and Torque Converters. 

A Love Story.

 

I oppose sensitive, romantic, emotional posts via Social Media.  Primarily because I’m uncomfortable being sensitive, romantic or emotional.  I am, however, creating an exception for Anniversaries occurring while serving in Afghanistan.  Rather than you reading a note to her, I’ll have her read a note to you…and I’ll put it out here a couple days early so she knows I didn’t forget and do it quick.

20 years ago my roommate went out with a girl from church.  He’d mentioned her a few times.  I had no idea who he was talking about.  They had a “sports date”, i.e. running, tennis, volleyball etc.  Clearly NOT the girl for me.  He came home and reported that “We’re going to be great friends, but nothing really romantic.  I think YOU would like her though.”  Nope.  I’m headed for the Army, where, after being the first attorney to win the Medal of Honor, I will enter private practice, win millions in verdicts, attract the attention of Sandra Bullock and eventually run for the Presidency.  “Yeah, well, I think you’d like her” he said.  Pffft.

Summer came.  There was a canoe trip.  My roommate was adept at keeping our canoe near the pretty girls.  Don’t ask me how, but Harry S. Truman came up.  Probably because I am a total nerd.  I thought to stump everyone by asking “What does the S. in ‘Harry S. Truman’ stand for?”  “It doesn’t stand for anything” said this girl, “It’s just an initial.”  I was smitten.  What could a date or two hurt?  Knowing only that she worked at K.U. Medical center, I promptly spoke to 462 different operators, nurses, doctors, secretaries and administrators before I found her and asked her out.  We went to the Truman Library.  I know.  How could she NOT be locked in after that? 

She is now the woman I love; the summer romance that I forgot to break off.  I love that she will run screaming through a field while shadow fighting like Bruce Lee if a June bug touches her hair.  I love that the first sign of pregnancy was never a test, but rather her murdering clichés:  “Whoa! That guy is taking his side out of the half of the road middle.”  I love that she speaks the English language faster than anyone I’ve ever met.  I love that the parents of her students love her so much they go out of their way to keep in touch with her.  I love that her students HAVE to run up and say hi and get a hug when they see her in a store.  I love that I can get a phone call and tell her that in two months we’re going to sell a house, move, build an apartment for my parents and then I’m going to leave her with 4 kids, 2 dogs, a lizard and her in-laws for a year while I go to war…and she says: “We’ll be good.”  Well, she also said: AREYOUFREAKINGKIDDINGMECAN’TYOURETIREANDGETAREALLAWJOBTHATPAYSMONEYSOYOUCAN NOTHAVETOLEAVEMEANDGODOTHIS (breath) THISSUCKSDON’TYOUDIEANDLEAVEMEWITHFOURKIDS!

She did eventually say, “we’ll be good”.  I love that she still looks good when cleaning up the mess du jour…whether kid barf, puppy pee, muddy footprints or just sniffing out the source of the boy-stink permeating the house. I love that she tolerates my ability to turn anything in to innuendo (oh yeah…I’ll replace the torque converter!).  I love that we can communicate entire paragraphs and a punch line with a look.  I love that I can amuse her.  I love that she knew the S in Truman’s name didn’t stand for anything.

Though she could have done far better,  I thank God daily for her poor judgment and 19 years of tolerance.  I’ll be home soon.  I’m gonna get after replacing that torque converter.

Happy Anniversary!

What they couldn't see

The band Vertical Horizon and actress Christina Moore visited us in Kandahar, Afghanistan for our Fourth of July celebration.  Yes, you know their music.  Yes you know her from that ‘70s Show, and more importantly in my house, as the mom on Disney’s “Jessie”.  They were awesome.  Troops can be a tough crowd, but they can’t help but respond when entertainers give it their all just for them.

Let me be clear.  I’m neither musical nor talented.  Asking me to sing or read a note of music is akin to asking me to taste how purple smells.  I just don’t “get it”.  Tonight, for some reason, I did.  In fact, I think I saw things that even these professional entertainers didn’t see…

Ms. Moore merely had to walk in to the dining facility.  The murmuring was immediate.  “That’s no contractor!”  “Dude…can you SMELL her?  That’s better than bacon.”  The troops she spoke to in the coffee line smiled all the way back to their table of buddies and told lies about how she winked at them.  She was, for the moment, the embodiment of the women they love and are striving to get home to. 

When the band took the stage and started their set, all they could see were a few thousand troops slowly loosening up.  What they couldn’t see were the nurses from our ROLE 3 Trauma unit, who just a few days ago fought to save a Soldier and lost.  They were smiling and singing along.  Soldiers who had carried and saluted 5 brothers as they were loaded on a plane for the final trip home, were laughing and making fun of each other’s singing.  Troops who will go out tomorrow and face death, were enjoying every moment of life as they sang along.  A few thousand troops from several nations got to pull out just a little of that humanity that is stowed away for safety when entering a combat zone.  Prosecutors facing fiscal law questions…well, nevermind.

Those are the things that I wish they could see.  At a time when some “acts” have cancelled because the Army can’t pay them enough or in the way they prefer, Vertical Horizon and Ms. Moore showed up.  They thought they were just giving of their time and talent.  In reality, they were “exactly the right thing at exactly the right time.”

Abbott and Afghanistan

Afghanistan.  Superpowers have marched these mountains and deserts since Alexander the Great. Flying over it a few times and looking down, I cannot for the life of me imagine what made anyone...ever...tie up his camel, look at his wife and say:  "Honey....we're here!  This is IT!"  

Fortunately for me, my mission this time is pretty much "inside the wire".  It is really difficult to conjure legal reasons to get outside the wire on a mission.  I am vaguely irritated by this.  

My wife is not.

I have battles of a different sort as we prepare to withdraw, downsize or "descope" in the popular military parlance of the moment.  After hundreds of billions of dollars, we are now parsing every nickel and need.  Because we are the Army, we created a bureaucracy to help. Bureaucratic entities working to reduce bureaucratic bureaucracy leads to exchanges such as this:  

Higher HQ: I need something, but I don't want to be seen asking for it.  I order YOU to ask me for the thing I want so that I don't have to ask me for it. 

Subordinate Unit: Um..Yes sir.....Sir?  I would very much like to have the thing you want so that I can give it to you.

Higher HQ: Nay, Nay! Your request is disapproved. Why would you ask me for such a thing? Now, come back later, ask me again and tell me WHY I want it.

Abbott and Costello couldn't have done it better themselves. If it weren't so wildly entertaining at times, it could drive you absolutely insane.  The problem is that if you went insane, it is unlikely that anyone would immediately notice.  But just as you're walking out of the meeting, shaking your head and wisecracking, you notice the flags.  They are now at half-staff. 

There is a real war going on "outside".  A fallen hero has arrived on base.  In a few hours, we will send him on his way home.

And there it is.  That's Afghanistan.  It takes you from humor to madness; frustration to sadness; grief to brotherhood; and from loss back to laughter..  

Time keeps moving.  The days are long, but the weeks are fast.  Before you know it, it will be time for someone to ask me to ask them if its time for me to go home.  They might say yes.

Jesus and the Soldier

Have you seen this statement?  "Only two defining forces have ever offered to die for you.  Jesus Christ and the American Soldier.  One died for your soul, the other for your freedom."  I just saw it again on Facebook.

I appreciate the spirit and sentiment the words intend.  Though as I sit here in Afghanistan in a uniform doing my duty on the day before Easter, it has made me think.  It’s not entirely true.  The truth is I'm not thinking of you at all.  I love my country, and I will die for it if I must, but I won't likely be thinking of YOU.  You haven't even sent me a care package!  My wife and kids perhaps…but ask any Soldier and the truth is that in a "fight" we think of the Soldiers to our left and right.  Should I be killed in battle, I will be proud to have died doing my duty, but I can assure you it was a total surprise to me and completely unplanned.  With a nod to General Patton, I was doing my level best to make the other guy die for your freedom.

Jesus Christ is a totally different story.  He knew He would be ridiculed and reviled immediately and for centuries to come.  He gave Himself anyway. He knew he would be unjustly convicted, beaten and killed.  He gave Himself anyway.  In the very moment that He did, he thought of you. You.  The you your spouse hasn't met, your friends don't know and your parent would be shocked to meet.  You.  He gave Himself for you anyway, but that’s not the best part.

The best part is that He did both.  He died for your soul and He can give you freedom.  Even better?

He is risen.

Murphy.  He is real and he may be Taliban.

Every Soldier knows that Murphy will attack the moment they leave home.  We know this with the same certainty that you will hit every red light when you’re running late or that having Taco Bell for lunch is delicious but will cause gastrointestinal apocalypse within 20 minutes.

Our experience was no different.   A few days before my flight, we discovered that the icemaker supply valve failed, creating a lovely waterfall in the basement living room.  Hours after my departure, my wife had my beloved dog at the vet for what we thought were allergies.  It was cancer.  She then had to plan his care and a loving end alone.  Arriving home, she noticed water under the washing machine.  This, of course was just before a massive snow storm, which made repairmen scarce.  It also meant it was a great time for the garbage disposal to fall out of the sink.  The same snowstorm led her to drive my previously trusty SUV ...until the window and door latch broke leaving her to climb though the passenger’s side to drive it with the window down in a snowstorm.  This forced her back in to the other car, which already required a screw driver to get it in to gear (I swear I was gonna get to it).  You can just imagine her relief when a helpful neighbor pulled up and informed her that her brake lights weren’t working.  Sadly, this just added an errand when, the next day, two of the four kids became ill.  Meanwhile, the hotel the Army had me in was providing only oatmeal raisin cookies and not chocolate chip.  No, I didn’t tell her that.  Yes, I helped in whatever telephonic ways I could.  I’m not nearly as dumb as I look. 

Ah, the first week done.  Fifty more to go. 

Before you begin sending sympathy checks (remember, my name is with a Y not an I), know that people were there for us.   Some fantastic friends helped move kids, fix cars, find ceiling fixers, lent vehicles and more.  I even have nurse friends volunteering to provide first aid when I come home on pass and Marsha punches me in the face for deploying.  In all of it, we begin to see that we aren’t alone.  Sometimes when people say “call me if you need anything”, they mean it.  Sometimes the church is the Church.  Sometimes, when you ask God for help, He looks an awful lot like a neighbor just watching your daughter for a couple of hours.

Thanks to those who helped us and who help any Soldier’s family.  When you help my wife fix a car door, you have her back.  When you have her back, you have mine.  When I know my back is covered, I can focus on covering another Soldier’s back.  Thats how we all make it home so our spouses can punch us in the face.

Seriously though, oatmeal raisin…THAT is hardship.  Looks like a cookie.  Contains raisins.  Unfixable.

Prosecuting….the War on Terror?  The Docket deployed.

The big news for Docket Dynasty is that I am headed for Afghanistan.  No I’m not kidding.  Being a prosecutor and crusading against darkness and evil while juggling law school student loans on public servant pay just wasn't challenging enough.  I have therefore remained a member of the Army’s Judge Advocate General’s Corps, known as “JAG” for short.  It really isn't much like the old television show at all, though I believe I may be even more rakishly handsome than David James Elliott.  Yeah, I know…

I hesitated to post this as I don’t always know how to deal with the usual responses which range from “thank you for your service” to “Don’t go, can you get out of it?” (You’re quite welcome and No.).  I’m not doing anything that a half-million other troops haven’t done.  I don’t think myself “special”.  I’m just another guy doing his job…that happens to be in Afghanistan.  This fact will obviously change the character of my posts.  I don’t yet know exactly what I’ll be doing or if I’ll be able to post at all.  I do know that I will very likely be depressingly safe.  Yes, depressingly safe.  You see, I started my Army life as an Infantryman… a steely-eyed killer...a predator seeking America’s enemies…well, okay, I was just a grunt, but grunts are in the fight.  Though still a Soldier, my job now is that of a lawyer.  “Safe” in a combat zone is relative of course, but rather than firing my weapon and taking ground in the war against terror, I shall be reduced to an angry signature on various legal documents.   That stings a little.

From my family’s perspective, what I am most certainly going to be is GONE.  Not here.  Not gone for a minute.  Not gone for the weekend.  Gone.  This is the most difficult part for me.  It is not likely the most difficult for them.  I will have “three hots and a cot” and the camaraderie of a few thousand similarly situated brothers and sisters at arms, all of whom are willing to come to my aid and I theirs should the need arise.  Meanwhile, my lovely bride still has to cook dinner for everyone and get them to sports, music, church and school activities by herself, all while wondering if I’m okay (I will be) and whether I've told her everything ( I haven’t).  Furthermore, as a Reservist’s wife, she won’t have the usual complement of resources readily available to the families of my active-duty brethren.  Though I may covet your prayers, I covet them for my wife and family most.  If you really want to support your Troops, find a way to support their spouses.  If you’re inclined to ask, when she says “we’re fine”, help her anyway.  Nothing allows the Troops to focus on the mission like knowing their families are well taken care of in their absence.  I am learning the humility of need in ways I hope to remember.

Though still at home, the insanity has begun.  I think deploying Reservists are inherently schizophrenic.  The Soldier is ready to go and begin the mission.  The husband/father is already missing everything that hasn't happened yet.  The prosecutor is reluctantly handing off cases for others to work.   If I dwell on it much, my eyes leak.   I’m ready.  Lets get this thing going.   In the meantime, I hope to have the means and opportunity to regale you with what I’m assuming must be “one-of-a-kind” stories from the combat zone.  Here’s to 2014.  I hope it’s the fastest year ever!