She sat down to the Thanksgiving table, crowded with a cornucopia of delicious looking and wonderfully smelling foods.
He sat down to the Thanksgiving table, crowded with a cornucopia of delicious looking and wonderfully smelling foods.
She ate quietly, mostly listening to the conversations between her parents, sister, brother-in-law, grandmother, and the children, occasionally checking on the baby tucked safely in a bassinet next to her.
He too ate quietly, taking in the talk between his driver, the gunner, the RTO, and other members of the squad, occasionally checking to make sure his M16 was still set securely in the rack at the end of the table.
She wore a simple, but lovely dress and a blue cashmere sweater.
He wore his Army Combat Uniform along with the warm Army issue black fleece.
He longed to be sitting at a different Thanksgiving table halfway around the world.
She longed to be sitting across from her man, and not Uncle Earl.
He looked around the table and realized how thankful he was.
She looked around the table and realized how thankful she was; thankful that she was able to enjoy the holiday meal with her family; her son and her daughter.
He was thankful that the men and women sitting at his table, each covered with a layer of dust and sweat, made it possible for his family to spend Thanksgiving without fear.
After the meal, she got up from the table to check on the children.
After the meal, he got up from the table to check on his Soldiers.
She stepped into the middle of a fight between her son and his cousin, breaking it up, bringing calm to the dispute.
He stepped out of his humvee and into the middle of a firefight, returning fire with his M16 before falling into a sudden overwhelming calm.
She pulled into the driveway, thankful that both kids were sleeping in the backseat.
He was pulled into the UH60 MEDEVAC helicopter, thankful for his body armor before falling into a deep sleep.
She carried each of the children up to their beds, tucking them in and gently kissing their foreheads. “Daddy loves you,” she whispered.
He was carried into the CASH on a stretcher by four sweaty Soldiers, bleeding badly and trying to speak he felt the nurse’s hand on his forehead as she leaned over, placing her ear to his lips he whispered, “Tell my kids I love them.”
Drifting into a deep slumber he heard Guns N’ Roses rendition of Bob Dylan’s Knocking on Heaven’s Door.
Drifting off to sleep she heard in the distance a knock on the door.
He opened his eyes, feeling himself floating upward into the heavens.
She opened her eyes, feeling her heart sink as the knock on the door grew louder. Making her way downstairs she paused at the front door, pulling her robe tighter at the neck with her left hand, she reached for the doorknob with a trembling right hand.
He could see his wife, crying, unable to talk to her or touch her. He saw his son, playing, happy and innocent. He saw for the first time his newborn daughter and felt guilty having missed her birth.
She collapsed into the arms of her best friend who was on the other side of the door when she opened it, delivering the message that her husband had been wounded but was OK and on his way home.
He was thankful to be home with his family again.
She was thankful he was alive.
Holding one another, arm in arm and with tears in their eyes; they were both thankful to be Americans, living in the land of the free, home of the brave.
Sgt Hook out.
Posted by Hook @ 0543 zulu | | Permalink
This post is filed under: GWOT & Heroes & Homecoming
