MILITARY FRIENDS ARE LIKE FAMILY

When you are far from family, your fellow military wives become your family, especially when you’re overseas. The wives looked out after each other; if there was a deployment, the wives made sure everyone was taken care. It was drilled into me that the Army was my husband’s assignment, and in case of an emergency, deployment, (or actually any time), my husband’s job was to take care of his troops, and his wife was responsible for the kids, the house, and the wives of his troops. It was true!

While we were in Italy, we were taught to make an Emergency Evacuation kit with a set of

clothes, passports and medicines (kind of like an expanded 72-hour kit). If there was any emergency, our husbands would take care of the military situation, and we wives were to be evacuated with the kids—without any help. Luckily that never happened, but it had been drilled into me that I couldn’t depend on my husband at any time. Not his fault, they would say, his job is the Army and mine is the family.

An experience stands out in my mind while we were stationed in Italy and Ed was operations officer for Southern Europe. Ed was notified at 3:00 a.m. in the morning that something had happened and went into the operation center; he couldn’t tell me anything about what was going on. I turned on the Italian radio to try to figure what had happened. I finally got a news station that said (as far as I could translate in my poor Italian), “It’s just like Nagasaki and Hiroshima!” When Ed came back home and packed to fly to Greece, he still couldn’t say anything!

Later that day, the American news reported “On April 14, 1986, the United States launches air strikes against Libya in retaliation for the Libyan sponsorship of terrorism against American troops and citizens. The raid, which began shortly before 7 p.m. EST (2 a.m., April 15 in Libya), involved more than 100 U.S. Air Force and Navy aircraft, and was over within an hour.”

Later that day, Libyan patrol boats fired missiles at a U.S. Navy communications station on

the Italian island of Lamedusa, but the missiles fell short.  All I could think of was Ed flying over the Mediterranean, and what else Libya would do to Americans in Italy.

Italians protested the American bombing, and when Marc walked to school, Italians yelled at him and called him bad names, knowing he was an American. He turned up his Walkman and played loudly:

“And I'm proud to be an American
“Where at least I know I'm free
“And I won't forget the men who died
“Who gave that right to me

“And I gladly stand up
“Next to you and defend her still today
“Cause there ain't no doubt I love this land
“God bless the USA”

 Life was very interesting for a while, with protests outside the base, and all students were bused to school with armed guards. On Sunday, a little old Italian lady spit at Diana who was a child and called her a “dirty American.” Even American missionaries had to stay inside and take off their name badges to prevent problems. I was alone with the kids, "holding down the fort," while Ed was in Greece.

 I can’t recall how many times I relied on friends, who were as close as family. When I was really sick, a friend took me to the ER. When the kids at mumps and I had to be at a stake Primary meeting an hour away, Ed was TDY in Texas--I had to handle the situation. When I had my last baby, friends got me to the hospital. 

Ed's assignment at Ft. Hood was the worst because it was the First Cavalry Division, and

one of the first groups to be sent anywhere in the world with a problem. I can’t recall the times he would get a phone call, and be gone—he couldn’t even tell me where he was going.

Also, as a pilot, he flew places. That was his job. Therefore, like so many business wives, I learned to take care of myself and the children, and never plan on my husband being there to help. He was when he could be, but I couldn’t depend upon it. That was the life of a military wife!