Home from the war

In November 2006, a reservist with whom I work was called up to serve. They were scheduled to leave before Christmas. When she told me about it at her going away party, she described her initial horror upon learning the news on her cell phone in the parking lot of the grocery store where she’d gone to buy a Thanksgiving turkey and can of cranberry sauce. This lady is retired military, lean, fit, brown skinned, grey headed and a grandmother several times over. She is one of the best, most dedicated probation officers I’ve ever met and had recently been promoted to supervisor of the whole unit.

As I sputtered in (looking back on it, probably inappropriate) outage that they would call up a grandmother and at Christmas time, no less, she patiently and calmly pointed out that she had volunteered; she was no innocent and knew the risks; and that they were going to relieve the troops that had given up the Christmas before. “They need to come home to their families for THIS Christmas,” she said. She looked me in the eye and admitted she was scared to death.

I felt small.

Today, I arrived early at court for the juvenile arraignments but they didn’t have any so I left to go grab a bite of breakfast at the local diner. Just as I left the courthouse, I heard my name called. I looked up to see my friend grinning as she came up the stairs. I'd heard her unit had returned. After hugging her I told her how much we’d missed her and worried about her. After ascertaining whether all her limbs were still properly attached (it was a bit like examining a newborn baby), I asked her if she’d been safe, had she been homesick, and was she glad to be home (how inane is THAT?).

She never stopped grinning and assured me that she’d always been safe (although in the next breath she mentioned they were surrounded by “terrorists” the whole time) and that she’d been sent to Africa to offer assistance. What stood out the most to her was that “they” (I am not sure who “they” were) had hired gang members to work alongside them and that they’d all been utterly terrified of the gang members who brutalized anyone who crossed them. She said no one disciplined them because they were all afraid of them. They were much more intimidated by the Guyanan gang members than the “terrorists.”

I am glad my friend is home. I am glad she got home in time to be with her family at Christmas. I am in awe of people like her.

photo - Evelyn with boots