This We'll Defend
It's Time for You to See
“This we’ll defend”, that’s the motto the members of the United States Army live and breathe by. They defend us, the people of the United States and they defend the innocent lives of others around the world. They’re in harm’s way day after day, hell they’re in harm’s way hour after hour but they do it for us. Some feel it’s their civic duty as an American citizen to defend their country by all means possible, others want to be part of something bigger than them while some do it to find themselves. Though it might be exhilarating for some to be in the field of battle they leave behind the loved ones who fear for their safety. The fear of having a uniformed man ring the bell and rely the heartbreaking news that your son, husband, brother, loved one was killed in the line of duty, is a fear no one wants to experience but the family members of Army officials face that fear on a daily basis. Fears are faced every day for both the family members of the officials and the officials themselves. But for many, the fears faced have a greater outcome, the joy of seeing their army man, decked out in uniform, walking off a plane safe and sound. Though they might be physically unharmed, mentally they’ve seen things no man should see. They’ve been through blood, sweat and tears, and most who do return home from overseas are never the same.
Do you even remember how you used to be before your deployment? You haven’t been the boy I feel in love with in ages, maybe it’s because you’re no longer a boy but a man; a man who’s seen more than any man should. We all couldn’t wait for you to come back and now that you are the distance between us has never been so large. Your refusal to talk about it frustrates me but I imagine you’re doing it to protect me, to save me from the images I’d soon produce. The horrifying images flashing quickly through my head I doubt would come even close the images you saw in person. I know that’s what’s keeping us from being the old us, those images, the moments you wish you never experienced. I can only imagine what you’re bottling up. I’ve tried to help but you’ve left me to imagine the worst from your scars. Your new scars tell a story of their own. The scar which carries the most behind it is the circular scar on your right shoulder. The scar that shows the incredible harm you were put into. A battle wound; blood seeping through your camouflage. Do you remember that day? I wonder what you thought as the bullet pierced your skin? What you thought as your newfound brothers directed you out of harm’s way. I want to know, I want to ask you all these things but I know you’re not ready, not yet ready to share this side of you. Perhaps that journal beside our bed can help me understand or try to understand.
I woke up the next morning to see your flimsy beaten to hell composition notebook on the pillow next to me. The Post-It note read, “It’s time for you to see.” I looked around the room wondering where you’d gone off to. I groggily got out of bed, slipped into my slippers as i threw on my blue robe, tied it around my waist and with your notebook in hand I walked through the house looking for you. But everything was gone; your keys, your wallet, the car, all gone. Did you really want me to do this on my own? I’d been on my own for so long with you gone and now this? I faced having you gone alone but that was when I wasn’t sure of the things you’d seen, I don’t know if I can do this. I placed the journal down on the kitchen counter while making myself some tea to sooth my scratchy throat all the while still starring at that damn journal. That damn journal haunted me for the rest of the day; my day filled with house work and contemplation. That’s it. By the time dinner rolled around my curiosity had gotten the best of me and it was finally time to crack it open. As I settled down on the couch, snuggled under a throw blanket my mom had knit I ran my fingers over the cover and took a deep breath. Was I really ready for this? My hands shook a little as I turned the cover revealing the first page.
-- -- --
The sound of the engines is actually relaxing me a little. Our next stop: Hell, Afghanistan. We are all well trained and ready to protect but no one really knows what the hell we’re about to face in the next year. I have my desert camo on, my dog tags around my neck and my bag in the luggage carrier along with everyone else’s. One of the guys next to me is already asleep; the others from what I can see are playing cards or bullshitting with other soldiers. I wonder what’s going through their crew-cut heads. My mind is a puzzle. One second I’m wondering how much longer we’ll be safe in the air and the next minute I’m thinking about you and what you’re doing this very moment. We land at 0600 hours, which is in about fifteen minutes. My heart is racing, my blood pressure pumping, my legs constantly bouncing up and down.
His writing had gotten sloppy; you could tell he was nervous. He has this tendency of not being able to sit still when his nerves get going. I figured his hands must have been twitchy.
-- -- --
I’ve been in this god damn desert for 15 days and still nothing. My usual routine for the day is wake up, piss, eat, work out, clean my gun, play a little catch with the boys and sleep then do it all over again. So fuck it, I have nothing to note so until we’re thrown into something worth writing down I’ll just go about my boring ass day.
I was surprised. I’d thought that they would be in battle every day; that they’d see death everyday but it wasn’t like that at all. Maybe he wasn’t in such a bad area of the war?
-- -- --
I feel numb. I saw a soldier, a friend, a brother to me die today. As we walked through one of the many deserts he’d stepped on a buried bomb. The explosion threw the rest of the troop backward before we could even realize what had just happened. I knew him better than anyone. We’d bunked together during boot camp and through the hell of it all we’d come out to be pretty good friends. His name: Petty Officer Kurk. He was a third generation soldier looking to make his father and grandfather proud. He’d left behind a wife and two year old baby boy, Nathan. Some of the soldiers cried, I wish I was that lucky. As I lay in this bunker all I want to do is cry, it’ll help. But I physically can’t, I just fucking can’t. I’ve tried and tried but there’s no use. This place has made me completely numb. I feel nothing anymore and it scares me. Who have I become?
I hadn’t even noticed the tears streaming down my cheek as I read the last line, “Who have I become?” The man I’d known for years I could now tell was slipping away. He was shutting down; turning his emotions off so he couldn’t feel the pain of war. Would this sense of numbness come back with him once he’s home? I’m afraid to lose the man I’ve loved for years, but I fear its already happened; he’s already gone.
-- -- --
I’m going to be blunt, getting shot sucks. I never saw the asshole that got me in the shoulder but damn I felt it right away. The pain I felt is beyond comprehension. I knew my life wasn’t in danger but I still couldn’t stop the images from playing in my head. I saw the men in uniform walking up to our door to break the bad news to you. I thought of my funeral, about everyone in the church, their tear soaked tissues, sniffy noses and red puffy faces. Suddenly, I was shaken out of my flash-forward I guess you could call it. Luckily my buddy, Calvin, ran me over to a tree making sure I was out of the gun fire going on. Once the shooting had subsided I was taken back to base and air lifted to the infirmary where I lay right now. I’ve been here about 3 days and I feel useless. I should be out there defending my country, protecting with my brothers. I’m restless. I’m one of the few lucky guys in here the nurse had reminded me. Because my wound is minor, I’m able to walk around so I stay somewhat sane. As I walked through the halls, I’d peak into some of the rooms and see limbless soldiers so yeah you could say I’m lucky.
I remember the day you got shot like it was yesterday. Your mother came over to tell me knowing that I’d be an emotional wreck. She was right; I lost it, sobbing for a good ten minutes or so even though I knew you’d be okay. But hearing your voice that night made everything even just a little better. Communicating had been rough, but we relied on e-mails and the occasional phone call here and there. You told me you’d be okay, that in just a few months you’d be back safe and sound. I was still worried; I’m still worried now even though you’re home.
-- -- --
I had my first legal drink last night. 21 and stuck in a desert, yeah we drank. No one got out of hand but having a nice buzz felt good, we all sure as hell needed it. Reading your letter and hearing your voice was the best birthday gift a guy could have, well a lay would’ve been better. I’ve been deprived for 6 months; my hand just doesn’t do justice anymore. Before I start to think and get hot again I have to throw your body out of my mind. This week, like the first two has been boring as hell. The only positive out of everything is I’m benching like three hundred now - I’m jacked.
This page is the first page that’s made me crack a smile. Not a cheap smile; no a full teeth and all smile. You’re benching three hundred, oh the benefits of war. You can tell the difference those ‘boring’ weeks have made. Your shirts fit you tighter around your biceps and chest. Watching you get ready for bed, seeing you lift your shirt off over your head, your back muscles flexing, it all looks so much better than what I remember and I can’t complain.
-- -- --
Today has been one of the harder days for me. It’s our anniversary and the first that we’re not spending together. Sleeping last night was nearly impossible but it wasn’t because of these shit bunks, no it was because I didn’t have you next to me. I cried for the first time last night, quietly of course so none of the guys would hear me and rag on me about it. You really can’t be anything but tough out here unless you’re alone, that’s the only time you don’t have to worry. I think I’m bipolar. Honest to god, one day I’m ready for this, prepared for anything, the next I’m a sap and then I’m back to being numb to just doing my job. I miss you. I keep telling myself to be strong, just a few more months but I need you and its killing me.
The tears continuously fell. ‘I need you and its killing me’ hit me hard. I’ve never known you as a man to need a woman. You’ve always been so independent ever since you were 16. Have you always needed me or was it being in war that made you suddenly need me? I didn’t even think you’d remember it was our anniversary that day. I, like you, had a rough night filled with tossing and turning along with the quiet cries. All I want to do right now is hug you and kiss you and show you that I’m here, but alas you’ve vanished into the darkness. Atleast I know you’ll come back unharmed this time.
-- -- --
God being on a crowded stuffy plane never felt so damn good. I’m finally coming home to you. This is the first time in months that I finally feel something, an emotion, pure happiness. With a few less soldiers in this troop we’ve all been through hell and are relying on our families to bring us back to the men we used to be. I can close my eyes and picture you jumping into my arms, you’ll probably cry, hell I’ll probably cry. The first few weeks I’m home are going to be rough, I’m warning you now. I’m not myself and I know that; I know I’ve changed and it sucks. But I need you to read this; I need you to see what I’ve been through. The reason I’m not reading this to you is because I can’t show you my vulnerable side. I’m supposed to be the big, tough army guy in your eyes not the crying little boy so that’s why I’ve left you here to read this. I’m sorry for leaving you again, but I’ll be back, this time there’s no need to worry. I promise you baby girl, I will come back to you, I will be the man you fell in love with again. I just need you to not give up on me, to comfort me when the nightmares wake me, to not get frustrated with my standoffish mood, I just need you to be there for me.
As if on cue you walked through the front door as I slid the journal onto the table. I hadn’t noticed you standing behind at the edge of the couch until I picked my head up and revealed my splotchy face. You walked over to me and extended your hand. I placed my hand in your palm and you help me rise to my feet. In the silence you walked me to a clearing in the living room, placed your left hand on my waist, raising my left hand up and began to sway from side to side; a slow dance. We danced to the sound of the rain. Had it been raining all this time? I rested my head on your shoulder as you guided us around the living room avoiding all obstacles in the way. The tears continued to fall as I left wet marks on your ‘army’ t-shirt. I suppose the imaginary music had stopped in your head as you stood tall in front of me. “Don’t give up on me,” you whispered softly almost inaudible. I felt your fingers tremble as they lifted my chin up. I faced you for the first time, your eyes twinkling with the tears soon to fall. I rose to my tippy toes to kiss you lightly on those lips I longed for. Everything stopped for those few seconds. The world that had been spinning out of control for the past year finally ceased and came to a standstill. All the fears I'd experienced had finally escaped me.
You leaned down towards the table and gently picked up your journal. Slowly you flipped through every page running your fingers lightly over your own writing. I watched how you spent more time on certain pages rather than others. You reached the final page and I could’ve sworn I saw a glimmer of a smile forming in the corner of your mouth. I’ve seen you smile once since being home and that was the minute our eyes met at the airport but since then nothing. The beginning of a smile seemed to be getting larger with every page, every blank page until you were at the end of the notebook. There were a few papers I hadn’t noticed and wasn’t sure were for my eyes to see. You handed them over to me and there it was the pearly white smile I’d missed so much. Unfolding the papers I’d soon found they were your honorable discharge papers. My hands began to shake but you steadied them with your strong embrace. I was crying and smiling all at the same time. My wish had come true. You were finally mine again and not the army’s.
Do you even remember how you used to be before your deployment? You haven’t been the boy I feel in love with in ages, maybe it’s because you’re no longer a boy but a man; a man who’s seen more than any man should. We all couldn’t wait for you to come back and now that you are the distance between us has never been so large. Your refusal to talk about it frustrates me but I imagine you’re doing it to protect me, to save me from the images I’d soon produce. The horrifying images flashing quickly through my head I doubt would come even close the images you saw in person. I know that’s what’s keeping us from being the old us, those images, the moments you wish you never experienced. I can only imagine what you’re bottling up. I’ve tried to help but you’ve left me to imagine the worst from your scars. Your new scars tell a story of their own. The scar which carries the most behind it is the circular scar on your right shoulder. The scar that shows the incredible harm you were put into. A battle wound; blood seeping through your camouflage. Do you remember that day? I wonder what you thought as the bullet pierced your skin? What you thought as your newfound brothers directed you out of harm’s way. I want to know, I want to ask you all these things but I know you’re not ready, not yet ready to share this side of you. Perhaps that journal beside our bed can help me understand or try to understand.
I woke up the next morning to see your flimsy beaten to hell composition notebook on the pillow next to me. The Post-It note read, “It’s time for you to see.” I looked around the room wondering where you’d gone off to. I groggily got out of bed, slipped into my slippers as i threw on my blue robe, tied it around my waist and with your notebook in hand I walked through the house looking for you. But everything was gone; your keys, your wallet, the car, all gone. Did you really want me to do this on my own? I’d been on my own for so long with you gone and now this? I faced having you gone alone but that was when I wasn’t sure of the things you’d seen, I don’t know if I can do this. I placed the journal down on the kitchen counter while making myself some tea to sooth my scratchy throat all the while still starring at that damn journal. That damn journal haunted me for the rest of the day; my day filled with house work and contemplation. That’s it. By the time dinner rolled around my curiosity had gotten the best of me and it was finally time to crack it open. As I settled down on the couch, snuggled under a throw blanket my mom had knit I ran my fingers over the cover and took a deep breath. Was I really ready for this? My hands shook a little as I turned the cover revealing the first page.
-- -- --
The sound of the engines is actually relaxing me a little. Our next stop: Hell, Afghanistan. We are all well trained and ready to protect but no one really knows what the hell we’re about to face in the next year. I have my desert camo on, my dog tags around my neck and my bag in the luggage carrier along with everyone else’s. One of the guys next to me is already asleep; the others from what I can see are playing cards or bullshitting with other soldiers. I wonder what’s going through their crew-cut heads. My mind is a puzzle. One second I’m wondering how much longer we’ll be safe in the air and the next minute I’m thinking about you and what you’re doing this very moment. We land at 0600 hours, which is in about fifteen minutes. My heart is racing, my blood pressure pumping, my legs constantly bouncing up and down.
His writing had gotten sloppy; you could tell he was nervous. He has this tendency of not being able to sit still when his nerves get going. I figured his hands must have been twitchy.
-- -- --
I’ve been in this god damn desert for 15 days and still nothing. My usual routine for the day is wake up, piss, eat, work out, clean my gun, play a little catch with the boys and sleep then do it all over again. So fuck it, I have nothing to note so until we’re thrown into something worth writing down I’ll just go about my boring ass day.
I was surprised. I’d thought that they would be in battle every day; that they’d see death everyday but it wasn’t like that at all. Maybe he wasn’t in such a bad area of the war?
-- -- --
I feel numb. I saw a soldier, a friend, a brother to me die today. As we walked through one of the many deserts he’d stepped on a buried bomb. The explosion threw the rest of the troop backward before we could even realize what had just happened. I knew him better than anyone. We’d bunked together during boot camp and through the hell of it all we’d come out to be pretty good friends. His name: Petty Officer Kurk. He was a third generation soldier looking to make his father and grandfather proud. He’d left behind a wife and two year old baby boy, Nathan. Some of the soldiers cried, I wish I was that lucky. As I lay in this bunker all I want to do is cry, it’ll help. But I physically can’t, I just fucking can’t. I’ve tried and tried but there’s no use. This place has made me completely numb. I feel nothing anymore and it scares me. Who have I become?
I hadn’t even noticed the tears streaming down my cheek as I read the last line, “Who have I become?” The man I’d known for years I could now tell was slipping away. He was shutting down; turning his emotions off so he couldn’t feel the pain of war. Would this sense of numbness come back with him once he’s home? I’m afraid to lose the man I’ve loved for years, but I fear its already happened; he’s already gone.
-- -- --
I’m going to be blunt, getting shot sucks. I never saw the asshole that got me in the shoulder but damn I felt it right away. The pain I felt is beyond comprehension. I knew my life wasn’t in danger but I still couldn’t stop the images from playing in my head. I saw the men in uniform walking up to our door to break the bad news to you. I thought of my funeral, about everyone in the church, their tear soaked tissues, sniffy noses and red puffy faces. Suddenly, I was shaken out of my flash-forward I guess you could call it. Luckily my buddy, Calvin, ran me over to a tree making sure I was out of the gun fire going on. Once the shooting had subsided I was taken back to base and air lifted to the infirmary where I lay right now. I’ve been here about 3 days and I feel useless. I should be out there defending my country, protecting with my brothers. I’m restless. I’m one of the few lucky guys in here the nurse had reminded me. Because my wound is minor, I’m able to walk around so I stay somewhat sane. As I walked through the halls, I’d peak into some of the rooms and see limbless soldiers so yeah you could say I’m lucky.
I remember the day you got shot like it was yesterday. Your mother came over to tell me knowing that I’d be an emotional wreck. She was right; I lost it, sobbing for a good ten minutes or so even though I knew you’d be okay. But hearing your voice that night made everything even just a little better. Communicating had been rough, but we relied on e-mails and the occasional phone call here and there. You told me you’d be okay, that in just a few months you’d be back safe and sound. I was still worried; I’m still worried now even though you’re home.
-- -- --
I had my first legal drink last night. 21 and stuck in a desert, yeah we drank. No one got out of hand but having a nice buzz felt good, we all sure as hell needed it. Reading your letter and hearing your voice was the best birthday gift a guy could have, well a lay would’ve been better. I’ve been deprived for 6 months; my hand just doesn’t do justice anymore. Before I start to think and get hot again I have to throw your body out of my mind. This week, like the first two has been boring as hell. The only positive out of everything is I’m benching like three hundred now - I’m jacked.
This page is the first page that’s made me crack a smile. Not a cheap smile; no a full teeth and all smile. You’re benching three hundred, oh the benefits of war. You can tell the difference those ‘boring’ weeks have made. Your shirts fit you tighter around your biceps and chest. Watching you get ready for bed, seeing you lift your shirt off over your head, your back muscles flexing, it all looks so much better than what I remember and I can’t complain.
-- -- --
Today has been one of the harder days for me. It’s our anniversary and the first that we’re not spending together. Sleeping last night was nearly impossible but it wasn’t because of these shit bunks, no it was because I didn’t have you next to me. I cried for the first time last night, quietly of course so none of the guys would hear me and rag on me about it. You really can’t be anything but tough out here unless you’re alone, that’s the only time you don’t have to worry. I think I’m bipolar. Honest to god, one day I’m ready for this, prepared for anything, the next I’m a sap and then I’m back to being numb to just doing my job. I miss you. I keep telling myself to be strong, just a few more months but I need you and its killing me.
The tears continuously fell. ‘I need you and its killing me’ hit me hard. I’ve never known you as a man to need a woman. You’ve always been so independent ever since you were 16. Have you always needed me or was it being in war that made you suddenly need me? I didn’t even think you’d remember it was our anniversary that day. I, like you, had a rough night filled with tossing and turning along with the quiet cries. All I want to do right now is hug you and kiss you and show you that I’m here, but alas you’ve vanished into the darkness. Atleast I know you’ll come back unharmed this time.
-- -- --
God being on a crowded stuffy plane never felt so damn good. I’m finally coming home to you. This is the first time in months that I finally feel something, an emotion, pure happiness. With a few less soldiers in this troop we’ve all been through hell and are relying on our families to bring us back to the men we used to be. I can close my eyes and picture you jumping into my arms, you’ll probably cry, hell I’ll probably cry. The first few weeks I’m home are going to be rough, I’m warning you now. I’m not myself and I know that; I know I’ve changed and it sucks. But I need you to read this; I need you to see what I’ve been through. The reason I’m not reading this to you is because I can’t show you my vulnerable side. I’m supposed to be the big, tough army guy in your eyes not the crying little boy so that’s why I’ve left you here to read this. I’m sorry for leaving you again, but I’ll be back, this time there’s no need to worry. I promise you baby girl, I will come back to you, I will be the man you fell in love with again. I just need you to not give up on me, to comfort me when the nightmares wake me, to not get frustrated with my standoffish mood, I just need you to be there for me.
As if on cue you walked through the front door as I slid the journal onto the table. I hadn’t noticed you standing behind at the edge of the couch until I picked my head up and revealed my splotchy face. You walked over to me and extended your hand. I placed my hand in your palm and you help me rise to my feet. In the silence you walked me to a clearing in the living room, placed your left hand on my waist, raising my left hand up and began to sway from side to side; a slow dance. We danced to the sound of the rain. Had it been raining all this time? I rested my head on your shoulder as you guided us around the living room avoiding all obstacles in the way. The tears continued to fall as I left wet marks on your ‘army’ t-shirt. I suppose the imaginary music had stopped in your head as you stood tall in front of me. “Don’t give up on me,” you whispered softly almost inaudible. I felt your fingers tremble as they lifted my chin up. I faced you for the first time, your eyes twinkling with the tears soon to fall. I rose to my tippy toes to kiss you lightly on those lips I longed for. Everything stopped for those few seconds. The world that had been spinning out of control for the past year finally ceased and came to a standstill. All the fears I'd experienced had finally escaped me.
You leaned down towards the table and gently picked up your journal. Slowly you flipped through every page running your fingers lightly over your own writing. I watched how you spent more time on certain pages rather than others. You reached the final page and I could’ve sworn I saw a glimmer of a smile forming in the corner of your mouth. I’ve seen you smile once since being home and that was the minute our eyes met at the airport but since then nothing. The beginning of a smile seemed to be getting larger with every page, every blank page until you were at the end of the notebook. There were a few papers I hadn’t noticed and wasn’t sure were for my eyes to see. You handed them over to me and there it was the pearly white smile I’d missed so much. Unfolding the papers I’d soon found they were your honorable discharge papers. My hands began to shake but you steadied them with your strong embrace. I was crying and smiling all at the same time. My wish had come true. You were finally mine again and not the army’s.