Over the Fence: For those who stand and wait

Published 12:00 am Wednesday, November 8, 2023

My husband is a veteran, and as such, he has plenty of experiences to share from his time in two different wars (please, don’t get him going!). But this is not about his taking care of casualties or being shot at, both of which he experienced. It is instead about the words immortalized by poet John Milton in one of his sonnets — “They also serve who only stand and wait.” He was referring to those left behind in wartime. I know what he meant, because I was one of those left behind.

The first time I found myself on my own was in 1969 when my husband was deployed to Vietnam. While he was dealing with wartime troubles, I faced trouble at home. My mother was critically ill and dying. My roommate, the wife of one of my husband’s buddies, became very difficult, so I had to disengage and somehow get myself and our car from the West Coast to the Midwest, where my parents lived. My mother-in-law, bless her, offered to fly out and help me drive home.

The trip across the country was long and dull, with the possible exception of a stop in Las Vegas. We stayed at a casino, of course — where else? We quickly dressed up and went downstairs to gamble. Things were lean in those days, so I allowed myself the lordly sum of $10 to play the slot machines. Keep in mind that a Las Vegas casino was a cultural shock for me, having grown up as a naive child in rural Ohio.

In order to play, I needed to get change for my ten-dollar bill. I found a change machine and inserted the bill. How funny, I thought, their change machines work just like their slot machines do. Then I waited for my change … and waited … and waited. It finally dawned on me that I had just put my $10 into a slot machine cleverly placed beside a change machine with a similar exterior. My mother-in-law later told me that the expression on my face was priceless.

We eventually made it back to the Midwest, four days and one expensive speeding ticket later. My mother was nearing death, and it was a very sad time for me and my family. There is no question I needed my husband, who, of course, wasn’t there, except maybe in spirit. I longed to lay my head on his shoulder and cry, but I had to be stronger than that, as did so many other women who had missing husbands. Looking back on it, I suppose that whole time apart was an exercise in building character, but that conclusion didn’t help the day-to-day reality of suddenly dealing with life’s various complications on your own.

Fast forward to 2003 and the second Persian Gulf War, Operation Iraqi Freedom. My husband, who left the Army to go into private practice, had recently decided to go back into the military. Just in time, it turns out, for the advent of 9/11 and what happened afterward, a retaliation leading to another war. But I wasn’t that scared young girl who watched her husband go off to Vietnam anymore. I felt much more confident about being on my own this time. The danger involved wasn’t quite as scary, since Stiles would be in charge of a surgical hospital in Kuwait (his code name was “Big Knife!”). The hospital was housed in a tent on the airport tarmac where he would be somewhat out of the line of fire. All I had to do was keep the faith and run a household. I mean, what could possibly go wrong?

The household of which I speak consisted of two adult children who were in and out, a dog, a cat and an old friend who would be spending time in our guest house. In short order, the kids got sick, the basement flooded and the dog died. In other words, pretty much everything that could go wrong, did. I suppose you could say it was just life as usual, except for the dog. The dog was hard and I wanted to share my grief with my husband, who once again wasn’t there.

Back to John Milton’s famous words telling us that those left behind also serve. They serve by learning to live with loneliness, by perhaps having the responsibility of being a single parent who has to make sure the house doesn’t disintegrate as the result of some Mother Nature mishap, and who has to bury a beloved pet alone.

I’m proud that my husband served the nation for so long and so well. It’s part of why I love him. The fact that his family had to do without him was difficult but necessary. Despite everything, we were proud to do our part.