Home for Christmas

            When our son, Nick, went into the Army in May, one of the things I thought as I said goodbye to him was that for the first time in his life, he wouldn’t be home for Thanksgiving or Christmas. For some reason, that bothered me more than I thought it would.

            That surprised me, because I’ve never been terribly sentimental about those holidays. When I was a kid, they were often days with obligations, where I couldn’t do what I wanted to or play with my friends. Because of that, the days often felt more like chores than celebrations.

            When I went off to college, the emotional level of the holidays kicked up a notch. Going home then seemed to really mean something and was a way of reconnecting during the period between childhood and adulthood. The difference between home and college provided a yardstick for measuring my progress during that transition.

The Yearly Negotiation

            In 1977, Kathe, my younger sister, and I both got married, and the holidays took on a hitherto unknown dimension. She was living in Seattle, I was living in Santa Cruz, our parents were in Glendale, and the in-laws were in Watsonville and Spokane.

            At that point the holidays got complicated. We would try to get our whole family together for one of the two, and one of us would try to spend the other holiday with mom and dad. That, of course, had to be worked around our spouses’ commitments to their parents, the work schedules of four people and so forth. Planning for the holidays came to seem less and less like a spiritual family bonding experience and more like an acrimonious labor negotiation.

            The parents are all gone now, and the kids are grown up, so it’s a bit simpler. The past few years we’ve either stayed home — Linda, Nick and I — or occasionally gone to Seattle to be with Kathe and her family. It has been considerably more low-stress than before, and there was the certainty that at least our small family would be together.

The Soldier Far Away

            Nick’s going into the Army changed even that dynamic, and we just figured that, buck private as he was, he wouldn’t be able to get time off then. It looked as if, for the first time in 37 years of marriage, it would be just Linda and me for Christmas.

            After basic training at Fort Jackson, S.C., Nick went to Fort Eustis, VA, for advanced training as a helicopter mechanic. If the class had started right away, he would have been done in late October and low man on the totem pole at his new posting after that. But the Army works in mysterious ways.

            It turns out that they didn’t have enough people to start the class right away, so he spent a month at Fort Eustis doing janitorial duty every day, which I’m sure built his character no end. Once training got under way, graduation was set for the day before Thanksgiving.

            Given Linda’s work schedule, flying out then wouldn’t have been feasible. But then the Army struck again. Nick was chosen to stay for additional training on the next generation of Blackhawk helicopters, and his training end date moved to December 14. At that point he’d have two weeks’ leave and wouldn’t need to report to his next post until the first of the year.

            So he got the leave, and he’ll be home for Christmas, arriving late the night of December 18. Given the nature of the Army, it could be his last Christmas home for years, but I’m trying not to think about that. Let’s just enjoy this one.

New Citizen, New Soldier

            Almost every time you do something new, there’s a side benefit in terms of learning something else along the way. It might have nothing to do with what you were doing, but can be kind of neat to know about when you hadn’t before.

            When our son, Nick, graduated from Army basic training at Fort Jackson, SC, two weeks ago, there were a number of announcements on the Fort’s website and Facebook page. One of them, which piqued my interest a bit, was that Family Day activities would begin with a naturalization ceremony.

            Several people responded on Facebook, asking if that was something they had to attend, and one of the officers diplomatically responded that while they were certainly welcome to, it was primarily a ceremony for new soldiers who were also becoming U.S. citizens following completion of basic training. As fate would have it, we got an opportunity to meet one of the new soldier-citizens the next day.

The Private from the Middle East

            In a post last week I noted that the basic training graduation is an event the Army tries to promote these days, and there were several thousand people in the stands at Hilton Field for the ceremony. When it’s over, the new soldiers are marched down to the far end of the field, and the families rush on to it to join them. It’s kind of like the fans storming the football field and tearing down the goalposts after a big win.

            That makes for a lot of bodies you have to work through to get to your soldier, but finally we found Nick in the scrum. After hugs, handshakes and greetings, he told us that he had taken the liberty of offering one of his fellow soldiers, whose family wasn’t present, a ride back to the barracks in our car.

            I won’t be giving out the soldier’s name, but the reason he had no family at the ceremony was that he was from one of the countries in the Middle East where we have lately had a considerable presence. The details were a bit sketchy, and we didn’t press for more, but apparently he had been helping U.S. troops in his country as an interpreter, and with things becoming more unstable, it was getting a bit hot for him back there. An offer to join the Army and study languages looked pretty good, so he took it.

Don’t Put Me on Facebook

            We took the two of them to their barracks (they were in the same modular building) so they could get their gear together and get ready to move on to their next posts for advanced training. Nick went with us to Fort Eustis in Newport News, VA; his friend was off to a posting a couple of thousand miles away, but still closer than his home.

            I asked if I could take a picture of the two of them, and Nick’s friend hesitated for a moment, then said it would be OK as long as I didn’t post the photo on Facebook or elsewhere on the Internet. I promised I wouldn’t and took the picture on my phone, but later deleted it. Why take any chances?

            Nick said two or three people in his platoon had become naturalized citizens at the end of basic training. In addition to his friend who rode to the barracks with us, one was from China, and another from Latin America. It would be interesting to know what their stories were, but their presence certainly adds another dimension to America’s modern Army, about which most of us know very little.

Our Soldier Moves on

            During World War II, millions of Americans served in the armed forces, and it’s unlikely that more than a handful saw a friend or relative (or at least one who was out of uniform) on the day they finished basic training and moved on.

            There were several reasons for that. Travel was more difficult and expensive in those days, for one. But probably the main reason was that it wasn’t regarded as an occasion for celebrating. Almost every man of a certain age went through it, so there was nothing special about it, and the next step for many was going into battle and facing death or dismemberment.

            Times have changed. Serving in the military today isn’t mandatory; it’s a choice. Like all choices, some are made for better reasons than others. But even the young man who got his girlfriend pregnant and is trying to escape the wrath of her parents has easier options than the Army. It’s a serious commitment that entails considerable sacrifice, and the commitment should be honored regardless of the reason for making it.

They Came From All Over

            Because military service is now optional, the services have recognized the public relations value of celebrations. Having spent a number of years doing PR for a living, I know that it’s not all Spin City. In the best sense of the word, it can be an exercise in doing the right thing and making the right gestures, and there’s a personal and social value in doing that.

            Our son, Nick, went into the Army May 6. He’s been in love with flying ever since he was old enough to know it was possible, and is looking at a career in aviation. The Army offered him training as a Blackhawk helicopter mechanic, and he signed up for six years. There are easier ways to get into the business, so I have to admire him for taking this considerably tougher and more dangerous one.

            Before helicopter school, he had to go through infantry basic training, same as every other soldier. So he was sent to Fort Jackson, SC, one of several bases where they do that. The fort history says the site was chosen because of “its year-round temperate climate.” I reflected on that point last Wednesday as I sat in the bleachers at the fort’s Hilton Field for family day ceremonies. Before the thunderstorms arrived in the afternoon, the mercury climbed into the 90s, with stifling humidity.

Private Wallace Carries the Banner

            Linda and I had arrived from Atlanta the day before and were in the bleachers early. Nick was his platoon’s Guide-on, which means he carried a banner behind one of the drill sergeants as his platoon and company marched on to the field. He looked lean, fit, and in command of himself.

            After the family day ceremony Wednesday morning, we got to spend 10 hours with him on base, catching up. He was craving pizza, so we had lunch at a Pizza Hut, then visited the base museum and had a long talk in a shaded pergola by Lake Semmes, the fort’s largest park.

            The following day he graduated, and we drove him to his next posting, at Fort Eustis in Newport News, VA. He was calm, accepting and funny about his new life in the Army, and looking forward to the next assignment. After three wonderful days with him, we came away with the sense that he was feeling good about his decision, which made us feel better, too. We’re glad the Army made a big deal out of the occasion, and provided the chance for us to be with him and see how it’s going.