Aslaug's Axe Shed

Late last night, after going to bed, I received an Email from Erica. She said I could publish it or leave it as it was, but I think it’d be wrong of me not to, because this is precisely why I spoke of “supporting the troops, without supporting the war”. She has an angle on this that few, if any of us can come up with. This is not about patriotism and the way one understands that word, but about family.

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I read Joan’s blog about the insidious phrase “Support Our Troops” tonight, both sections, and I couldn’t let it go by without a response. I’d agree wholeheartedly that the phrase does not and should not mean “Support War” or indeed, “Support the Politicians who decided to send our troops out” No. For me, the phrase has an entirely different meaning.

You see, my husband used to be in the Army. I’ve waved goodbye to him as he left for Iraq, not once, but twice. Both times I worried if he’d return home, and whether he’d be in one piece physically and emotionally if he did come back.

I’ve sat there, patting my belly, my unborn child within, telling both her and my 4 year old son that Daddy has gone to the desert for work for a while, and that he’ll be home soon, praying with every fibre of my being that I’m actually telling them the truth.

I’ve watched round the clock news, hoping to catch even the most miniscule glimpse of my husband going about his duties, so that I know he’s safe and well that day.

I’ve wept over the writing of letters, and over the reading of them.

I’ve stayed awake all night, sure that I’m going to get the knock on the door informing me that he won’t be coming home.

It is EXHAUSTING to worry about these things constantly for months on end.

You still have to go about your daily routine, of course. In my case, there were ante-natal appointments, taking my son to nursery every day, and the usual round of household chores and grocery shopping. Easy enough, you might think. But we had literally landed in Germany 4 weeks prior to him leaving for Iraq, with one suitcase and one carry on each. We had no furniture, no household goods whatsoever, just clothes, and a few favourite toys for my son. So I had to furnish the apartment alone, from scratch, down to the cutlery and crockery.

About 3 weeks after my husband had left, I fell ill with tonsillitis. It got so severe that my entire stomach wall went into spasmodic cramp, and I thought I was going into premature labour at 4 months gestation. That triggered a panic attack, and I ended up in the military doctors office on a nebuliser, so that I didn’t compound everything by having an asthma attack too. As I was alone, and in a country where I knew nobody, my son came with me, and proceeded to scream if anyone approached him other than me. So I sat there for what seemed like half the night, struggling to breathe, pregnant, completely alone, and trying to stay as calm as I could so that my son would fall asleep on my lap, or at least stay calm enough not to injure himself.

That incident over, I continued with the day to day routine of setting up home. I decided not to tell my husband about it until he came back, so he would be able to concentrate without growing frantic with worry for us. Unfortunately, that wasn’t the only thing I had to keep from him while he was in Iraq.

You may or may not know this, but Germany was vehemently against the war in Iraq, as was France. Living in Germany, this proved to be something of a challenge. The area we had been moved to was on the edge of an Army owned estate, with privately owned homes directly to either side of us. Our apartment building backed onto the privately owned areas, and it became more or less routine for everyone in the block, including me, to have their windows pelted with eggs and rotten food. Occasionally, some bright spark would throw bricks. I began leaving the curtains closed at all times.

I’d got to know a few people by this time, and we used to travel grocery shopping together on the Army-run bus route to one of the larger supermarkets in the area. One particular trip got cut short after a group of German women took offence at us being there, and spat on a friend of mine and her toddler, then swore at her in both English and German. After that day, we all went to the Army run supermarket, and were escorted on the bus by an armed soldier, just in case.

That chapter of my life is over now, and I didn’t tell you ANY of the above so that you’d feel pity or sympathy for me personally. I’m here, in my home town, with my husband currently getting ready for bed upstairs. Things are good. But my story is by no means unusual. In fact, I’ve heard much worse tales from the women I got to know during my time in Germany, and at our posting in England, even to the point where one woman was told that she had to have a caesarean section before a certain date because her husband HAD to leave for a theatre of war with the first wave of his batallion instead of the second, and they didn’t want him to be distracted by his wife being about to give birth.

As military spouses, you are advised to write “fair winds” letters. You gloss over the rumours they might have heard, and deny anything bad has happened until they return home. I understand the welfare reason behind this, because a distracted soldier cannot do an effective job. When a soldier goes on his first tour of duty, it works, to a point. But on the second, or the third, or any subsequent, I’d imagine that most would be worried about whether their wife and children are being attacked just because of the job they do. I know my husband was. And yet, you still write the same “fair winds” letters, so they can at least keep a shred of morale intact.

THAT’S what “Support Our Troops” means.

Emotional Support.

~ so they can get on with their job without growing so distracted they don’t notice someone pointing a gun at them.

~ so that they can make it through another crap day without their family.

~ so that they’re strong enough not to dissolve with guilt when their spouse tells them what really happened while they were away.

And while we’re at it, why not wave a flag to support our troops’ families too? They need it EVERY bit as much.

I should know.