A young wife’s view on the effects of war
Life changes when you marry into the military.
Scheduled date nights are abruptly cancelled because your husband is on duty, family vacations can rarely be out-of-state in case there is an emergency on the military base and saying “hi” when answering the phone is not permitted. I had to answer the phone with “Sgt. Lara’s residence.”
I was 18 when I decided to get married to a 20-year-old Army sergeant. He was leaving for his second tour in Iraq and we didn’t want to waste any time. Our period of courting was fast, our engagement faster, but he wanted to marry me so that I would be taken care of, benefit-wise, should anything happen.
My husband deployed for Iraq in June 2004, one week after we had married. His tour was scheduled for 12to18 months, and those couple of weeks leading up to the deployment were a blur. Paperwork and meetings consumed our days – to the point where we didn’t stop to think, or feel, about the upcoming tour until the night before. Then our world changed.
I remember sitting in the car as we drove to the hangar, nervous, scared and naïve about the situation. The thought that he may not return didn’t enter my mind. I was numb. Before he boarded the bus that would take him to the plane, he hugged me, kissed me, said “I love you” and told me this wasn’t “goodbye,” it was “see you later.”
Our wedding day wasn’t the one I envisioned when I was a little girl. It was a catastrophe. Paperwork due at the courthouse was not signed, my wedding dress didn’t fit and I got a call from my fiance saying that he was running late, but that he would be there. He was at the rifle range and his superiors wouldn’t let him go early, and he had to ride the bus back.
We arrived at the lawyer’s office, to find it small, dusty and full of spider webs. Anxious, I handed over the envelope of money to the lawyer, along with the marriage licenses and got ready for my cue.
With one of his army buddies and two military wives as witnesses, we spoke the vows next to a desk filled with stacks of legal papers.
The lawyer then asked for the rings. Because of the rush against time to marry before he deployed, his ring was so big that he had to close his hand around it so the ring wouldn’t fall off. Mine was a little small, but after a short struggle, he eventually got it on. Then the lawyer pronounced us husband and wife.
One week later, he was gone.
There I was, 18, married and living in the middle of Kansas. I cried so much the first two months of his deployment that I stayed busy on purpose so that I didn’t have to think. I’d wait up for the 3 a.m. phone calls from Iraq almost every night.
Every day of the week, I would go to school, work and then read an entire romance book. Friday night was reserved for going to the movies by myself. Saturday, I would spring- clean the house – including scrubbing the blinds, sweeping the porch and mopping the floors on my hands and knees. Cleaning was therapeutic to me. Saturday night was grocery shopping and Blockbuster night. Sunday was church followed by cinnamon rolls and coffee.
Meanwhile, every time the phone rang, fear was sent through my heart. Every knock at the door made me pray to God that the person on the other side was not a soldier in his Class A’s.
Then one day, I received a phone call.
I had a bad feeling at the start of the day, but blew it off thinking it was just another panic attack. I had a lot of those, being that I was in a constant state of anxiety and worry since he left. But there was a reason I felt nervous. I was in class when my cell phone vibrated. Noticing it was a military number, I ran out to answer it.
It was the Family Readiness Group leader. She was calling to tell me my husband was in an accident. My world stopped. She began to tell me how his convoy ran over an improvised explosive device when it exploded under his Bradley. She said my husband was being flown to the hospital at that moment.
With tears streaming down my face, I quickly drove to the barracks. The commander reassured me that my husband was alive, but that his condition was unknown and, that he would contact me when they had more information.
I waited by the phone all day, crying. Between making calls to his family and mine to notify them, I was praying harder than ever before. I promised God that if He would let him survive and come back home to me OK, I would never ask for anything again.
Later that evening, I received a call from my injured husband. Sounding groggy and disoriented, he reassured me that he was OK. “I’m OK, Baby, I’m OK,” he kept saying as I bawled into the phone.
The next day I found out what happened. After the IED exploded, he was thrown into the ceiling of the Bradley and was knocked unconscious. The Bradley caught fire and his buddies hurried to get him out. Luckily, everyone survived.
He was flown to the hospital where he was diagnosed with a slew of problems, including a concussion. He remembered his family and their phone numbers, but didn’t remember he was married until he saw his wedding ring. He couldn’t even remember to whom.
Two months later, he returned home with a purple heart. Three months later, he was honorably discharged and we moved to Reno.
For the last year and a half of our marriage, he suffered from some of the effects of war.
He would refuse to talk about his feelings or what was wrong. When he first got home, on some nights when it would thunder and lightning, he would instinctively react by reaching for his gun. When he realized he was home, he would spend the rest of the night tossing and turning. He was also quicker to lose patience.
Eventually the stress of military life and the consequences of war were too much for our marriage to handle. After almost three years of marriage, we divorced.
Marriage into the military is a stressful and an unappreciated relationship at times. When soldiers return from war, the media and people not associated with the military focus primarily on the soldiers and their wounds. What many people forget are the invisible wounds that the wives, children and families also suffer.
What the soldiers deal with, the wives and families deal with along with them. There is a familiar saying I know to be true: “Their wins are our wins. Their losses are our losses.” When the soldiers feel the effects of war, we are the ones supporting them, consoling and helping them through the moments. War does not just take a toll on the soldiers - it can tear families apart.
Heather Lara is a staff writer for The Nevada Sagebrush. She can be reached at editor@nevadasagebrush.com
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