A Soldier's Perspective

My Flag, My Country, My Son & Me

I am sitting here this morning, looking out my front window at the American Flag in my front yard. Each night I do the same for a few minutes. I have lights out on it so I can leave it up at night. They are LED lights and it give the flag an eerie, almost ghostly glow as it waves in the wind. I can't explain why I take a few minutes each morning and evening to just look at it, but I do. Maybe it is what is means to me and my family that I take that little bit of time each day to be thankful that it is the American flag waving in my front yard and not some other.

But right now, due to some things going on in my life and my son's life, I feel compelled to share with ya'll part of our story that you may not have heard before.

As many of you know, my oldest son, Kenny, got out of the Army last October. He and I were in Iraq at the same time in 2005, him a soldier and me a civilian truck driver. We are both home now, but I believe that nether of us have totally left Iraq behind. He deals with PTSD and I, well I deal with my own stuff and try to help him with his.

Kenny wanted to be in the Army since he was old enough to walk and talk. My brother served 14 years in the Navy, my Uncle is a Vietnam Veteran, my Mammaw a WWII Vet, several of my great uncles WWII and Vietnam Vets. I could go on, but you get the idea. My family still teaches that service to our Country is one of the most honorable things a man or woman can do in their lifetime.

Kenny joined the Arkansas National Guard and went to basic between his junior and senior years of high school. In March of 2004, his senior year, his unit was deployed to Iraq. It bothered him that he was not shipping with them and no matter what everyone told him, he quit school in hope that he would get to join them sooner. He got his GED, but didn't get to do his AIT till that fall. That made him angry. He felt he should be there standing side by side with his brothers and sisters in arms.

In September 2004, he graduated AIT and shipped to Iraq to join his unit in December. Between September and December he and I had many talks about Iraq. I tried to educate my son as much as could from my first hand experience as a civilian truck driver there even thought I knew his experience as a soldier would be some-what different.

Not long after he got to Taji, I received an IM from him. The camp was under heavy mortar attack almost on a daily basis. He asked me how I dealt with that when I was there. I wasn't sure how to respond. This was my son, but yet, he was a soldier, so what do I say? How so I help him without hurting him? Do I talk to him as my son, or as a soldier? Right or wrong, I decided that being the mom at that time would hurt more than help. So I told him, "Everyone deals with it in their own way. But if you listen, you will be able to tell which are inbound and which are outbound." He then asked me how to tell the difference. I told him that I couldn't exactly explain that to him in an IM. "Just listen and you will figure it out." They got hit with another mortar at that time and the internet went down.

In March of 2005 his unit came home, but he stayed. We had talked about his decision several times. I remember the phone call very well. "Mom, I hope you are not mad, but I have made my mind up. I am going to volunteer to stay when my unit comes home. It doesn't make sense for me to only be here 3 months when everyone else has had to do a year." I was not mad. How could I be mad at him for doing something that I wanted to do. Yes, I was home at the time, but I wanted back over there so bad I could taste it. For me, hauling supplies to our troops has been the most fulfilling job I have EVER had!

He was moved to Baghdad to Camp Victory and his mood changed. That is also when he told me that if I wanted to go back to work over there, I could. When he went in December, he had asked me to stay home. He said that he didn't want to have to be worrying about me on the roads of Iraq while he was on them himself. He didn't want to pull up to an ambushed convoy and worry that it would be one of my convoys. I could understand his feelings. We had talked many times about our being there at the same time and how we both felt about it. The mom in me and the civilian contractor that wanted to support the troops were at odds with each other for those months that he asked me to stay home.

I got to see Kenny a couple of times in BIAP during the summer of 2005. It was great, scary, and many other emotions I can't put words to right now. But I remember meeting him by the DEFC that first time at 0200. He stepped out of the Humvee carrying his M16. Walked over to me and gave me a hug, a very LONG hug. Then he stepped back, crossed his arms and said, "Well mom, we are even. I have been shot at too!" My breather caught in my throat, and I think my heart skipped a beat. What do I say, how do I react?! Once again, something inside me knew that I could not totally be the mom. so we shared our war stories like we would have if we were not related, or not in Iraq. Later that day we were sitting outside the PX in my truck. Kenny looked at me and said, "Your treating me like you would any other soldier aren't you?" I told him yes. That I had to, for him and for me. He sad that he understood, but I still felt like crap for it.

Kenny came home in September 2005 and I came home in May 2006. Many times between that first meeting in Baghdad and a few months ago, Kenny would tell me that I could not understand what he went through because I was JUST a civilian contractor and he was a soldier. That I needed to quit telling him that I understood what he was going through or went through. I learned to reword things so as to keep him talking to me.

Last February my cell phone rang. It was Kenny. He was falling apart. His wife had left him, he was forced out of the Army because of his PTSD and was extremely depressed. We talked for a while and the more we talked, but more scared I got. I could hear the signs of suicide in his voice. I wanted to help him but didn't know how. Then a few hours later he called again. He said that he had called the VA's suicide hot line. I was in Texas on my way back from delivering a load to California. I asked him if he wanted me to come to Temple and go to the VA the next morning with him. I know that may sound funny, my asking, but he didn't want my help in the months before. His wife had been trying to put a wedge between the two of us for a long time and he had resisted me so very hard, I was doing everything that I could to hold on to my son. so when he said that he needed me, it didn't matter if my company was OK with my driving out of route to be there for him or not. They could just fire me if they felt they needed to. I called my boss, told him what was happening and where I was going.

I am very lucky that I have a boss that supports our troops almost as much as I do. He had no problem with my detour. He also didn't have a problem with me putting Kenny on the truck and bringing him home with me. My boss has been very supportive through it all!

Kenny has been going to the VA in Biloxi just about every week since he got here. They changed his medication once and now are only seeing him every two weeks. I don't know if that is good or bad. Kenny never sleeps a night through without getting up at least once. Some nights are worse than others. Some days are better than others. The one thing good out of this is I have my son back. He has learned that I DO understand what he went through over there better than he first thought. We both know the symptoms of PTSD and because of that, better understand the others weird thoughts, feelings and reactions. We can call each other on it and not get our feelings hurt. We both understand each other. Our ways of dealing with what we each experienced in Iraq are different, but we are both getting better. I wonder some times if the fact that I was 38 when I first went to Iraq, has helped me better deal with it all better then his being 19. Does being older, more mature, having lived more of life, help me deal with that kind of stuff better? Does having nearly being strangled to death by my no ex-husband help me deal with it better? Or does it help me hide it better?

I don't know. I don't have all the answers to the many questions I have floating in my head. One thing I did realize about a week ago, while we were doing an interview with a reporter from the VFW magazine, is that my son and I are better then some because we have each other. Because we have someone that understands what we are going through. Because we have someone close that knows what that flag in my front yard means, not only to each other, but to our Country.