Then I Prayed

Most years I write about the soldiers on Veterans’ Day, but this year I wanted to write about the families who love their soldiers. There are no names in the story because it represents all of the loved ones. It is our story. 

Sitting in the grey tweed driver’s seat of my Dodge Ram truck, I drove all over the southeast United States. As I drove, my mind would drift recalling conversations with my twin sons. 

“Dad, I am going to join the Army.” The words brought a swell in my chest of pride that was quickly deflated with reality. We were at war in Afghanistan and Iraq. 

“Son, I know you want to do this, but you need to understand that six months from now, people will be trying to kill you daily. Are you sure you want to do this now?” 

His response was so fast that I knew he had either already worked through this fact in his mind, or was not going to let that into his thought process. What else was left to say to this young man of mine? “I love you, son.”

Then I prayed!

I continued driving down I-26 and put my mind back on work, but fifteen minutes later it drifted to the days that were filled with pomp and circumstance. There was his graduation from boot camp. Then, the Fourth of July visit at Fort Lee. There was the day of his graduation from Airborne Jump School and watching his twin brother pin his Airborne Wings on his uniform. So many memories flooded my mind.

Then I prayed!

One memory was particularly emotional for me. It was at dinner the evening before his basic training graduation. At the table were my wife and I, my soldier, his girlfriend, my daughter, and his twin brother. The Soldier was sitting between his girlfriend and his twin. He softly kissed her cheek, then leaned over to his brother. The restaurant noise was loud, but I tuned my ears to the conversation.

The soldier said, “I will be going to war soon. I wish you would be able to watch my back for me.” 

His brother said, “Me in the Army? I don’t think so!” But his eyes told a different story.

Then I prayed!

My drive took me to Asheville, NC that day, but I was still far from home. I tried to move my mind to something else, but there was no use. So, the memories came again in waves.

I remembered the twin saying to me just a few months later, “Dad, I am joining the Army.”

This was no surprise, but I wondered why, so I asked, “Is this only because your brother asked you to watch his back? You know they will never let you both be in the same place at the same time.” 

He smiled, “No dad, I want the discipline they will give me!” 

I stepped back and delivered my line as I had to his brother. “You do understand that in six months people will be trying to kill you. Are you sure that discipline is worth that? 

Once again, the answer came quick and sure, “Yes sir!”

Then I prayed.

At the second twin-soldier’s basic training graduation, I heard his voice as he rounded the corner calling out commands for his squad. At his AIT graduation when he took top honors and I saw the discipline that had allowed the leader in him to emerge, my pride swelled.

Then I prayed.

The first twin-soldier boarded the plane. The day was overcast. It matched my mood. I watched as he disappeared through the plane door. My heart felt like it gained 10 pounds and struggled to beat. He was leaving for the war zone. I sank to my knees.

Then I prayed.

All the calls and reports – I overanalyzed them all for both boys. One would say, “I passed an ally today where gunfire was coming from, but I handled it.” Or “Today was the worst day of my life.” Or “I will not be able to call for the next 20 days.” Or there would be silence on the other end of that thousands-of-miles phone line. Or the subdued statement, “Dad, I love you.” When I hung up the phone from every conversation, I hurt.

Then I prayed.

Finally, I arrived home from my workday. After dinner and time with my daughter, I lay in my bed. My mind could not leave my boys. 

The worst feeling hit as I remembered The Phone Call. “Dad, I am okay, but….” 

While it was not a military dad’s worst fear, it was my second-to-worst fear come true. January 2, 2006, at 8:02 AM my soldier called me from a MASH unit. I listened. I evaluated. I wrote down the information. I talked with the rear detachment commander. I called his fiancée. Then I called his twin-soldier brother. They were thousands of miles apart. He answered and started talking before I did. “I felt it! How is he Dad?”

When the conversation was over, I cried out to God.

Then I prayed.

There in my bed, with sleep nowhere in sight, I pushed the memories away and focused. This was my life for the time while my sons were in the combat zone. 

Then I prayed, until I unwillingly fell asleep.