Letters From Afghanistan From Somewhere in Afghanistan October 21, 2001, Afghanistan Dear Mandy, I miss ya'll, I miss the kids and all the noise, I miss the house, I miss sleeping in our bed, I miss cutting our grass, I miss watching a good show with you. But most of all I just miss you. I love you and the longer we're together the more I depend on you. But this won't last forever. I'd be surprised if this doesn't last a year for us. That's just a guess on my part. Yesterday was my 18 year mark. I think the [military] has got their money’s worth out of me, what do you think? Most guys my age are much more settled down in their jobs, more sitting and directing. Not me, here I am again, deployed forward with my team. Other than being home with you I can't think of another place I’d rather be; well maybe a few but I get paid for this. We haven't gotten any mail yet. I heard that it was being held up somewhere that the airplanes come in from. It's been 2 weeks yesterday since I heard your voice. I'd sure like to get a letter from you and the kids. I know ya'll are writing and it'll come. I love you with all my heart and sure hope I can dream of you tonight. I've been praying for you and the kids, I know ya'll are taken care of. Good night for now. I love you. Luke * Luke and Mandy grew up in the same small, rural, southern town. Each Friday evening in late summer and early autumn Luke would proudly don his green and white high school football uniform. Charging the field he would tenaciously run, block and tackle. Mandy supported him, cheering from the sidelines. Since that time two decades ago much has changed. Luke retired the shoulder pads and helmet after his senior year in high school, exchanging them for an M-16 and beret. Some things, however, have remained consistent. Luke is steeped in pride as he dons the uniform. And Mandy is ever present–supporting him from the sidelines. Sweethearts since high school and married for the past 18 years, Luke now 38 and Mandy, 37, are separated by America’s war on terrorism. The evening of March 8th 2002, I visited with Mandy and her four children at their house located a few miles from the military post Luke is assigned to. [Certain details must be excluded from this article due to the sensitive nature of Luke’s job.] I coasted into their driveway after several hours of driving as the sun was dangling on the edge of the earth, splashing the dusky overhead canvas with slithers of gold and violet. The house--warm, inviting and decorated carefully with country charm–sits in a quiet suburb sprinkled with children romping in spacious yards. An above-ground pool shares the back yard with a tree house, both echoing summer laughter. Everything appears ordinary. But Luke has been gone for over five months. In this ordinary house, located in an ordinary neighborhood, in an otherwise ordinary town, extraordinary sacrifices are made day after day. Reclining in the family’s living room, Mandy notes, “As soon as the second plane hit the World Trade Center I knew Luke would be involved. A few weeks prior to September 11th he began mountain training up East. Shortly after September 11th, in the middle of the night, he disappeared from the training sight. He called me when he was one hour from home to let me know his training had been cancelled. I knew it would be just a matter of time before he was deployed again.” An 18 year veteran, Luke is not unfamiliar with military action. He spent time in Somalia and the Middle East was his home throughout the Gulf War. However, no amount of training or experience can cure the heartache caused by separation. . * My Dear Sweet Pretty Wife, I love you. December 29, 1983, was the day that I made the best decision of my life. Being married to you for 18 years has been the best part of my life. I can't imagine not having you. Everything I could ever hope for in the future involves you. We will be back together soon. I want to wrap you up in my arms and not let go. This job I chose so many years ago won't last forever. Hopefully they'll let me walk away from it soon (21 months). Thank you for always being there waiting for me to come home from these long trips. Thanks for raising our kids single-handedly at times. Thanks for making our home special and something that we can be proud of. Thanks for always expecting the most out of me so I would always be the kind of person that you could be proud of. Thanks for making me so happy I can't explain. I truly love you and will always love you. Your Husband * “Saying goodbye this time was the most difficult ever,” Mandy states, tossing her head back, looking at the ceiling in a fruitless effort to keep the tears from spilling out. In the distance, a three-foot tall, silhouette of Uncle Sam looks over her shoulder. Positioned in the corner of the living room just inside the front door, he’s decked out in red, white and blue, with the familiar pointed beard and patriotic hat. He’s a symbol of the powerful undertones that characterize our discussion. His message, though reduced to three simple words--I want you--resonates in this house, where words like patriotism, honor, courage, and sacrifice are concrete realities, not abstract notions or passionless concepts. “The day he left he called me about 2:30 in the afternoon on my cell phone. He told me to collect the kids and meet him at the house; he was deploying. I was on the way to the barber shop and figured I’d have time to get the boys their haircuts. I sat in the shop as long as I could stand it. I gave the boys the money to pay, then went outside. I broke down. “Luke was scheduled to leave at 6:30 PM so we had just a few hours together. The house was quiet. The kids were trying to stay busy but they couldn’t manage to have any fun.” “We said goodbye at the post. We were in front of the building our dad works in,” remarks 16-year-old Josh. “We could see his buddies carrying their guns and getting their gear ready. I could see in dad’s face that he was afraid. He’s a tough guy and the worse part was seeing how bad he hated to leave us. I could tell this deployment was different than the others. He was more emotional. I got scared.” * November 1, 2001, Afghanistan Josh, I hope all is well with you. I’m sure you’re doing your best in everything. By the time you get this letter you will probably be getting ready to put on the play. I really wish I could be there to watch it. I’m proud of you...very proud. You are a fine young man with a good head on your shoulders. If you’ll just keep your nose to the grindstone and make good decisions the sky is the limit. Don’t settle for second best, whatever you really want to do you can. You have to try and think long-term; 5, 10, & 20 years. Education is the key. Pick a field and do your best. I guess you’ve been keeping up with what’s going on over here in my part of the world. This is serious and important business and it must be done. Sometimes when I start to feel sorry for myself over here I just think that I sure don’t want you to have to come over and get involved. That scares me. I can handle my risks, but I really think it would worry me and your mom to death if you were involved. There are some things worth fighting for. Our freedom and safety is at the top of the list. George Washington said, during our country’s revolution, that the time was at hand to fight for our freedom or die trying. Now, I don’t think that times are that grim now but we are under attack and until we remove those that would cause us harm they will continue to hurt and kill our innocent people. That’s why I do what I do. It’s because I want you to live in a safe place where you can enjoy all the good things in life and have all the opportunities possible. With all that said, don’t join the army! This is my job not yours. One soldier in the family is enough. Now, if we were attacked by half the world it would be a different story. You do something else. Drivers licence. I bet you’ve been working on your mom about that. Well maybe not, but just be patient. It’ll come later on and you’ll be driving and working all the time. For now, just try to enjoy school and friends and your hobbies. Well son, I’m gonna let you go for now. I miss you very much and I love you. I’m proud of you. Give your mom a hug and a kiss from me. Love, Dad * “I’ve never seen him so upset.” Mandy points out. “He didn’t want to leave. We were all standing around and finally he made us go. He said he couldn’t take it anymore. The last time I saw him, he was in my rearview mirror; he was just standing there in the parking lot,” she points out while Uncle Sam continues to stare at us. “I think what makes this more difficult than his previous engagements, is that it just all seems more real this time. We were attacked. We saw the World Trade Centers fall. On top of that, the Russians never had any luck fighting in Afghanistan. Plus we have four kids now and we’re older. We’ve grown to appreciate each other more than when we were younger.” * Jan. 31, 2002 Afghanistan My Dear Wife, I love you. It's after supper on a lazy Thursday for me. My day has been uneventful; that's good but it makes me feel drab. Sweetheart I sure do miss you. Days like this really make it worse. You are the most important part of my life, without you I'm nothing. I can't wait until we are together again. I think it won't be too much longer. It's been almost 4 months but really it's more like 5 because I was gone in September when this mess started and then when I finally got home we really didn't have any time together. It was 2 weeks but we were getting ready to go and staying beside the phone,waitting. I know that you've been hanging in there very well and that gives me strength. I'm so proud that I am able to serve our country for a worthy cause and my family supports me and is able to keep going like you do. You are an incredible women, I don't know or have ever heard of another women that could hold a candle to you. I'm a lucky man, very lucky. Your Devoted Husband * “There was a company meeting after Luke left. All of us [wives] were required to draw a map from the post to our house just in case someone had to come notify us that our husband was a casualty,” Mandy says. “A while back I saw a government car driving through the neighborhood. My heart dropped into my stomach. I went to the window thinking, please don’t stop here. It slowed in front of the house and then passed on by. Every time the news reports that a soldier has been hurt or killed I start praying that it’s not Luke.” Eleven year old Mary, bright-eyed and timidly smiling, softly states, “One time the TV was telling the names of people who died. I didn’t want it to be daddy.” She looks down. Her fingers fidget, tapping and scraping the table in front of her. She searches her little vocabulary for the words, finally continuing, “I was scared. I was sitting at the table eating dinner. I quit eating and just listened. I was happy when they didn’t read his name. “The thing I miss the most about daddy is sitting and watching TV with him in the morning. He always watches the news; I don’t really watch it.” Her eyes glisten with tears. “I just like him to be there.” * November 1, 2001 Afghanistan Dear Mary, I got a letter from you this morning. It was a card with two maple leaves inside. Thank you very much for writing. It was the best part of my day getting to read a letter from you sent to me. I sure do miss you very much. I wish everything was different and I was at home with you and your mommy and all your brothers. But I have to be here doing my job so all those bad people can’t hurt you or anyone else. One day this will be over and I’ll be home again. You wrote that you were making good grades. That’s very important. I want you to keep up the work. One day when you’re older, you’ll be very glad that you studied and learned and made good grades when you had the chance. I guess when you get this letter it will be close to Thanksgiving. I will miss being there with ya’ll at Thanksgiving. Remember that is a time when we think about how lucky we are; we should thank God for all he has given us. Well, little lady, I’ll close for now. Remember that I’m always thinking about you. Give mommy a big hug and kiss from me. Love, Daddy * “My daddy is nice. He’s strong. He’s very caring,” Mary continues. “He buys us clothes and food. He’s loving. I wish all the other 11 years old girls could know something about my daddy: He’s fighting for them, too. Every night I pray for him. I pray that God will bring him home safe. When I see him the first thing I will say to him is, I love you.” “I miss him being here,” Mandy says. “I miss his presence. I miss the feeling of being safe. I miss looking forward to him coming home from work everyday. “A while ago I went to the memorial service of one of the soldiers who was killed. I thought about the dad who lost a son, the wife, all those who were suffering. Again, I prayed that I would never be here to memorialize Luke. One thought kept going through my mind: Does anybody except for the family and the people who knew the soldier really care?” A big part of what helps sustain the family is the support they get from others. According to Josh, the most significant thing people can do to help is to let his dad know that they are praying for him. “Sometimes people take the time to tell me that they are praying for dad. It makes me feel good. “One of the hardest things for me is to listen to people talk about the war who don’t know what they’re talking about,” Josh laments. “Some people don’t know what they’re really doing over there. They are stopping people from taking freedom away from others and fighting for those who are blamed for attacking New York City and Washington D.C.” Twelve-year-old Mark storms into the house requesting permission to stay a few more minutes at a neighbors house. Eight-year-old Tim yells something from upstairs. Josh offers his advice about Marks request. Mandy first shouts a word of correction for Tim, then considers Josh’s remarks, and determines that Mark can have twenty more minutes. They are little decisions but they are unending and taxing on one parent who is used to sharing responsibilities with another. Luke does his best to offer parental guidance through his letters. * January 31, 2002, Afghanistan Dear Tim, I have been getting all the letters and pictures that you have sent to me. Thank you very much! It makes me happy to get letters from you. I saw your grades; they were very good. I am proud of you. Your mommy said that you have been helping her around the house. That makes me very happy too. I saw the video tape that mommy sent to me. You were there up in Mary’s room singing on her machine. It was funny. Little buddy, I hope that I will get to come home sometime soon. We really don’t know when that will be, but I will be very, very happy to see you. Maybe we can go bike riding if the weather is not too bad. You be a good boy, mind your mommy, study hard, and get along with your brothers and sister. Love, Daddy ---- January 31, 2002, Afghanistan Dear Mark, Hello son, I miss you very, very much. I love you and wish that I was home with you.. ...You go to school in order to become a valuable citizen. Without education you will find it very, very difficult to accomplish anything in life. Take for example the current situation over in this part of the world. The kids don’t have the availability of a proper education like in our country. As a result they spend their entire life working for just enough money to buy food. They never will have their own home or any of the nice things we have. Most men die at a much earlier age or they’re killed before they ever get a chance. If they only had the chances that we have through a good education... Please son, for you own sake buckle down, concentrate on your work, don’t let your mind wander off, listen and study on your own. I want you to be good to your mother. Think before you speak, don’t react every time someone says something to you, think about it first and if what you want to say is not polite, then keep it to yourself. I want you to get along with your brothers and sister. They are your family and they will always be there... Son I am proud to be your father and I look forward to seeing your smile and hearing your laugh. Take care and think about what I’ve told you. Love, Dad PS. Read this again, think about it and show it to your mom. * “I’ve been thinking a lot lately about how difficult it must be to be a single mother.” Mandy says. “ I don’t see how they do it. Then I think about some of the other military wives. Some handle the separation better than others. Basically it takes about three months before you get used to the idea that you’re alone. It takes that long to get most of the crying out of your system. It’s been worse this time because of the people in New York. They’ve been through so much. I keep telling myself that I’ve got to straighten out.” Uncle Sam stands stoically in the corner as Mandy walks into her bedroom, returning with a box. By the wording it’s apparent that the box used to store a Holy Bible. Two of the corners are bound by an elastic gold cord. Slipping them off and carefully opening the box, she begins to thumb through the letters Luke has sent her. “Some of them are covered in dirt. You can tell he must have had to carry some of them around for days before mailing them,” she says. She reads several quotes occasionally getting lost in the words, forgetting that I’m in the room, hearing his familiar voice whispering to her through the ink and paper. “He’s worried about the people over there, especially the children. Listen to this,” she says, staring into one of the letters. “‘A lot of the people you see don’t have warm clothes either. It makes me angry because I really can’t help them. It’s not a good idea to try to help one or two because you get mobbed or they get into a fight over what you give them. One day about a month ago I was walking up this hill and I ran across this young fella about 13 or 14 years old. He smiled and we tried to communicate. He told me his name. It was cold out and he asked me for my gloves. I said no and that they were mine and I needed them. So I went on with my business. I saw him every other day or so and smiled and waved. Well Christmas morning I woke up and wanted to do something for someone, so I dug an extra pair of gloves out of my bag and set out to find the kid. It took a few minutes but I found him. I gave him the gloves and told him, Merry Christmas. Of course, he didn’t understand but he sure smiled when I picked him out and gave him something. Every time I see him he smiles so hard it looks like it hurts. But I haven’t seen him wearing the gloves. Some big guy probably took them from him.’ “Speaking of Christmas, Luke made sure I had something under the tree. He sent Josh a letter with instructions.” It reads; Josh, I need you to do me a favor. You’ve got to take this money, $100.00 and buy your mom a Christmas present. Try to think of something that she will like. If you can’t think of anything, call your Aunt Carol or Betsy. It’s important that she have something to open for Christmas morning (it’s important to me). If you can’t figure out a way to do it call Carol and ask her to pick it up for you and get it up to the house before Christmas. I’m sorry I didn’t do it myself. Wrap it up and put it under the tree from all of us. Thanks, son. I’m counting on you. Keep this letter with the cash just in case your mom finds the hundred-dollar bill. You can explain it to her. I’m sure you’ve got some good hiding place, but don’t hide it and then forget about it. Love, Dad” Why does Luke do it? Why this profession? Mandy answers, “He loves his country. He thinks what he’s doing is the right thing to keep this stuff from happening again. He says, you gotta stop the bad guys.” By the time I begin to make my way outside to leave, Josh and Mary have gone to spend the night with friends. Mark is exhausted and sleeping upstairs. Ever energetic Tim plays a video game. Uncle Sam’s awake. He observes my departure. Indeed, he’s gotten his money’s worth out of Luke and countless others. Since September 11th most of us have been passengers on the predictable roller coaster of emotions. Patriotism peaked when the second plane crashed into the World Trade Center. We rode the crest of that wave for a while before settling back into our safe world. The war that appeared so close, so immediate when the Pentagon was assaulted, has become a distant thing, barely catching our attention on the evening news. But some--the Lukes and the Mandys of this world-- haven’t enjoyed one moments peace. I replay the words of the children and Mandy throughout my drive home. Driving down the face of the mountain into the Sequatchie Valley in the wee hours of morning something Mandy said gnaws at me. “Does anybody except for the family and the people who knew the soldier really care?” That she’s left to ponder such a question indicates that we, America, need to do more to show our support for those who are making incredible sacrifices to keep us safe and free. I don’t pretend to know how this is to be accomplished, I only know that children miss their father or mother, wives miss their husbands and husbands miss their wives. The Spirit of America should help fill their void. And if our collective spirit is slumbering once again, in a pre-war delusion, then we will have lost the moral right to send Luke away from Mandy, to separate Josh, Mark, Mary, and Tim from their daddy. They ask for nothing more than for us to care. In the mean time, Luke will proudly serve and Mandy will patiently wait for him, still cheering him on from the sidelines. Her mind will drift toward Afghanistan as she places the letters back in the box and turns out the light in her lonely bedroom. Her weary heart will embrace his words while she drifts into the comforting land of dreams where they can be together if only in their imagination. And over there, Luke will do the same... Mandy, I’m gonna put on some warm clothes and try to get some sleep. I hope I can have sweet dreams of you. I’d love to just see you right now. I need to see you and hear your voice and feel your touch. It seems like such a long time ago that I said bye to you in that parking lot and watched you drive away. That was the hardest good-bye that I’ve ever had to say. I hope it’s the last one of those. Well listen to me ramble on. I need to get some sleep. I have to get up in a little while for guard shift. I truly love you and I really miss you. It’s been worse these last few days. I love you. Goodnight Sweetheart. Your Devoted Husband, Luke. January 14th, 2002 From somewhere in Afghanistan.
Copyright © 2002 Ben Overby |