Deployments: The Real Story From a Military Wife

Deployments are like a box of chocolates: There's a harder shell on the outside, and on the inside, there's something gooey. No matter what can it is, in the wrong hands, it can be a real sticky mess that can leave fingerprints all over the place.

Whoever said that the first deployment is always the hardest has never had someone in the military for an extended period of time. Sure, the first deployment isn't fun on the whole basis that this is the first long, extended period of time that you have been away from your sweetheart. However, if his first tour is to Korea (Peacetime) and his second is to Iraq (Wartime), the second tour quickly becomes a more difficult pickle. For those who have experienced what I like to call the 'revolving-door-tours', those straight, back to back downrange trips after short periods at home, they know that the first isn't always the hardest. Each time, there is a possibility of the unthinkable which is a topic all of its own.

The real goo, the sticky messes, comes in a variety of brightly colored wrappers. From simple Army FUBUs like putting the wrong stamp on the 'Power of Attorney' papers which are needed to keep your life running smoothly while he's away to blind spending sprees, either by yourself or your mate via bank accounts, Military cards, or out-of-pay forwards, to pesky problem children who rebel while Dad's gone.. This long and unending list can strike from the day he hops on the plane and last until long after his boots hit the ground on his return.

Any seasoned Army wife has seen her share of tragic stories. Whether it is someone she personally knows, or something akin to an Urban Legend, that Murphy's Law comes in the front door when the husband makes his way to protect and serve. Any seasoned Army wife has had Murphy bunk with her, he's kept her company as she's sat and waited for long hours for the phone to ring, for the emails to come, and he doesn't like her to be bored. That is simply unacceptable, even to military standards, the wife's work is never done, and life is meant to be a rollercoaster.

Famous Firsts

My 'first' was a memorable time. It was directly after 9/11 and my husband's orders had already been cut to Korea. I was nervous, but felt I could handle the tour without too much difficulty. I felt relieved his orders had not changed, that he was not redirected to Afghanistan or Iraq.

I should have know it would be a bad day, the day he left. The morning our car's tire blew out; I couldn't take him to Green Ramp so I saw him off from our front porch of our housing post. Maybe had there been locust or a flood, I would have been better prepared, would have had a clue to just how badly the day would turn out. But no, I missed that clue. Took it for a strange coincidence. My sticky mess was just beginning.

That afternoon, my 13 year old son decided it would be a good idea to shoplift a candy bar from the PX. The phone rang... Me, red eyed and snotty from crying, sniffling, I answered the phone to learn of my son's 'adventure'. I would have prefered the bugs or the water.

I told the MPs to keep him.

Whether it was by chance or by choice, he was not a lone criminal in his stupidity. His companion? My best friend, Doris' daughter was also caught in the act. She refused to go to the PX but sent her husband, Andre, instead. I road with him, fuming the entire way, I was in a state of disbelief. I was hoping that they'd have a barrier between me and my loving child because my great desire was leaning to wring his neck, this feeling increased and inflated the longer I thought about his stupidity.

When we arrived, the 'criminals' were glum. Faces cast down in the office of the PX, they sat side-by-side. The MPs were milling around, the store manager showed us on video tape then in the aisle, hiding the candy bars in the pockets. A blind man would have seen it. It was just that clear.

The MPs informed us that we would have to bring the kids to the station for further processing, the paperwork, the statements, whatever else went with this particular offence on their end of the spectrum. I told them that they could take my son with them; I didn't want to look at him. The young MP looked surprised. Andre agreed. His daughter would also go with the MPs and not with us.

When we reached the station, we filled out the paperwork. I glared at my boy. He refused to look me in the eyes. I asked the MPs what would happen, what the next step was, he said that because it was on post, on Federal property, it wasn't just 'Shoplifting'; it was 'Larceny of Government Property'. That candy bar cost me over $250 in fines and it will be forever on his record. There was a lag, it would be months before we knew the full punishment by the post. He was also assigned community service. That worked out well since I was in a community council, volunteering as the secretary, so I was able to assign both of the thieves to litter detail. They scrubbed community swingsets and slides sparkling clean! 30 hours well spent!

The real rub? He had money. I had given him a dollar to buy a little something; I knew it was a hard day for him, too. After all, his Dad just left for a year! He just wanted a little something more...wanted to know how far he could push me! It was his lesson and mine. Full of goo, fingerprinted, and a real disaster.

I am proud to say he lived. I didn't seriously injury or maim him although I was sorely tempted. I'd like to say that his behavior was angelic after this, but it wasn't. He was a real pain in the butt, but he was a real pain in the butt who was grounded~ for really long times who I made repay to me $250. He did yard work that summer, gave up time with his friends to mow and rake, and I am happy to say it was the last time he ever took anything from the PX without paying for it first.