Army Wife

by Vicki Cody

  Dick called whenever he could, usually about every couple of days. It really helped because just hearing his voice let me know that he was okay and allowed me to feel as if he wasn’t too far away. He was really excited about what he was doing. Rebuilding and test-flying helicopters was exactly what he loved doing.

  “I can come home for Thanksgiving, for about forty-eight hours.”

  My spirits lifted immediately. “Oh, good—I can make it till then!”

  It was wonderful to have him home. After a nice big turkey dinner, in the privacy of our bedroom, Dick told me a little bit more about the mission. He was talking in that paranoid whisper again, and I found myself looking around to see if anyone else was in our bedroom.

  “The helicopters are built. We call them ‘little birds’; they’re pretty cool. But we’ll be moving to another location for the next phase of the training, a secure place out West. I won’t be able to call as often, but don’t worry about me.”

  “Is it going to be dangerous?”

  “There’s always some danger involved, but you know I never take unnecessary risks and safety comes first.”

  “I’m still going to worry, no matter what you say.”

  “I don’t think I can get any time off for Christmas. We have such a tight schedule and so much to get done. I think you should take the boys and fly up to Vermont for the holidays. It would be good for you to be with family.”

  He was leaving the next day, and I didn’t want to spend what little time we had crying, so I put on my “not so sad, almost happy” face. We went over our code words again, just to make sure. Then he left and I was on my own again, so I got busy making plans for the trip to Vermont.

  At first when I arrived, I was worn out and told my mom that I felt scared and out of control, that there were moments when I was convinced that something awful was going to happen to Dick. And then we got a nice surprise: Dick showed up in Burlington two days before Christmas! He looked different, even since Thanksgiving—he had long hair and a mustache—and he was distracted and subdued, not the Dick Cody I knew, but the boys didn’t notice and it meant the world to all of us that he came home.

  We didn’t get much alone time that visit, as we were sleeping in my old bedroom in my parents’ house, with Clint and Tyler across the hall in my brother’s old bedroom, so we had to make do.

  “Dick, you look exhausted,” I said one night when we were finally by ourselves. “Is everything going okay?”

  “It’s really challenging work. We fly day and night, practicing and fine-tuning our game plan. This is the toughest flying and tactics I’ve ever done. Sometimes it’s hair raising, even by my standards and Ned’s, too.”

  “But how will I know if you finish practicing and then leave the country?”

  “I have to be really careful. We’re working for and with some pretty clandestine people. I will tell you that we’re down to the wire on this turning into a real-world mission. It really depends on whether President Carter can get the hostages released before President-Elect Reagan takes office. I will continue to call you every couple of days. If my calls stop, then you know I’ve gone to a secure location.”

  It was hard to suppress my feelings when we said good-bye that time, as it was probably the most scared I had ever been. Once Dick left, I counted the days till the boys and I would return to Savannah. I felt closer to Dick when I was in my surroundings. As wonderful as it was to go home, it was also a reminder of just how different our life was from that of our civilian family members.

  One night in early January, Dick called and nonchalantly said, “I think it’s time for you to get my motorcycle out of the garage.”

  Just as nonchalantly, I replied, “Okay. Hey, Dick, be careful. I love you.”

  “I love you, too, Vick.”

  I hung up the phone and felt totally alone. I was glad it was nighttime so I could crawl into bed with my fear and anxiety.

  For the next ten days, I had no word from Dick. I waited and watched CNN, praying that the hostages would be released before President Reagan took office. I felt like I was going to burst with pent-up emotion. Then—praise the Lord!—Dick called late one evening and in a very subdued voice told me that the hostages were being released and to watch the news the next day. I had never felt such relief. I wanted to shout at the top of my lungs, for all to hear, that Dick was safe and coming home! However, I detected some disappointment in his voice. While he was thrilled the hostages were being released and he was returning to his family, he was obviously disappointed that they wouldn’t get to do the mission that they had trained and worked so hard for.

  The next morning, news of the hostage release was all anyone could talk about. I cried happy tears for all the families who had been waiting, and for me, too. It had been only three months, but they were the most stressful three months I had known.

  PS: This was the time in my life when the real worrying began, but I could not give in to my fears, and I certainly did not want Clint and Tyler to know how scared I was. They were too young. I had to learn to compartmentalize my fears, a trait that would serve me well years later, when both boys started flying helicopters and deploying.

  Thoughts on Faith and Trust

  Faith is defined as “belief not based on logical proof or material evidence.” Trust is defined as “total confidence in the integrity, ability, and good character of another. One in whom confidence is placed.” The two words often go hand in hand and, for me, are words to live by.

  Growing up, I did not have what I would call a strong sense of faith. Unlike Dick’s family, who went to Mass almost daily, my family rarely went to church. I believed in God and was thankful that I had such a blessed life, but because my childhood was happy and free of any trauma, there was never a time when I felt the importance of faith. When I became Catholic, I loved going to Mass with Dick, and for the first time in my life, I felt the comfort of prayer.

  When I think back on my life as an Army wife, I’m not certain exactly when my faith in God deepened, but I’m pretty sure it was during those nights when Dick was test-flying and experimenting with night-vision goggles strapped to his helmet, or maybe it was when he went off on that mission with Ned and there was no clear exit strategy if they went into Iran, or when he first got to Saudi Arabia in the summer of 1990 and he and a few other units were the only deterrent if Saddam Hussein’s Republican Guard decided to cross the border of Saudi Arabia. I do know that by the time Clint and Tyler began deploying to combat zones, I had a clear and deep faith in God.

  When the boys deployed, I had never felt so out of control and so afraid. It was worse than my fears for Dick. The night before Clint deployed to Afghanistan, as Dick and I struggled to cope with our son deploying, we called our good friend Father Baker, a Catholic priest from Hopkinsville, Kentucky, and asked him to come to the house. It was late, and we hated to impose on our friendship, but we felt helpless, and that was a new and scary feeling for us. Father Baker brought Clint a Saint Christopher medal, and after we chatted, we prayed. It gave us the comfort that we needed.

  During the boys’ numerous deployments, I’ve had to rely on my faith more and more. When you realize you have done everything you can to keep your children safe, as you continue to pray for their safety, it reaches a point where you have to give it up and hope that God is watching over them.

  As I’ve grown over the years as an Army wife and matured as a woman, so has my trust—in Dick, in myself, in the Army, and in everything that we have done as a couple and in raising our sons.

  Any good marriage has to be built on trust in order to survive, but it is even more important to a military couple, since we face a lot of separations and uncertainty. With Dick gone so much of the time, whether to dangerous places or just on temporary duty, I would have driven myself crazy if I’d had to worry about what he was up to all those times. I have never once doubted Dick’s faithfulness to me, and I have never given him a reason to question mine.

  I
had to trust Dick countless times when it came to our way of life; I had to trust that the next place or the next job was going to be good for our family. How many times did he say, “Trust me, Vick”? And I always did.

  I have also learned to trust not only Dick’s abilities as a pilot but now Clint and Tyler’s as well. Otherwise, how could I live with the inherent dangers of what they each do? And when I myself was learning to fly, it was probably the first time in my life that I had trust in my own abilities, as I had never done anything that my life depended on like that.

  Every time Dick was in a command position, I watched how trust was the key element in his leadership. The trust that he established with the leaders under him, which in turn trickled down through the ranks of every soldier, was the reason he and his units were always so successful. It was the reason they were able to accomplish such great feats. When he was commanding the 101st Airborne Division, shortly after September 11, 2001, we began to prepare the soldiers and their families for possible combat deployments. In the previous year, we had built a great team based on trust—trust between Dick, his leaders, and the soldiers, and trust between the spouses and me. That trust was based on a mutual respect that fostered esprit de corps and camaraderie and made everyone feel like they were part of the team. Amid all the uncertainty ahead of us, it was that trust that enabled each of us to prepare for the next “rendezvous with destiny.” And it was trust that gave Dick and me peace of mind when our son deployed with those very people.

  It was not enough that Dick and I trusted each other, though; we also had to foster trust between ourselves and our parents and extended family. Many times, our parents did not understand our Army life: why Dick was always gone, why we missed a lot of family events back home, why we moved to the far reaches of the world and made it difficult for them to see their grandsons and us. We couldn’t always tell them every detail or why, especially when Dick was involved in something clandestine; they just had to trust us. For the most part, they did, and as they learned more about our very unique lifestyle, that trust turned into a love and appreciation for Army life. Our parents got to share enough moments with our family that we made memories to last a lifetime.

  Where would I have been without faith all these years? So many times when I thought I couldn’t deal with something, when reasoning and logic didn’t work, when there was no one, not even Dick to help me, when I was so scared, I put myself in God’s hands. Once I did that, I was able to face any challenge and not only live my life but also really enjoy it, even in the darkest of times. I’m thankful that I can do that.

  One last thing about trust: I realize I’ve been trusting Dick Cody since that first night when he took my hand and led me down that dark path to the beach.

  8

  A Fork in the Road

  Dick had some loose ends to tie up as his operation and mission disbanded, so he didn’t get home until the beginning of February. We eased back into normal life in Savannah, but he seemed quieter than usual and a little subdued.

  One afternoon while the boys were napping, Dick said he had something he wanted to talk about. I still vividly remember sitting at our kitchen table, admiring the cute brown-and-white bamboo wallpaper that I had chosen, while Dick shifted nervously in his chair.

  Then he began, “I’ve been offered a job in the special-operations community. The Army is forming up a permanent unit like the task force I was just part of.” He went on to explain that the Army realized the need for a special-operations aviation unit that would be a quick reaction force supporting Delta and Special Forces units for clandestine-type operations, like the hostage rescue mission. The new unit, to be called Task Force 160th, would be built from aviation units from the 101st Airborne Division and based at Fort Campbell, Kentucky. Dick, Ned, and the other pilots from “the deal” had been asked to be a part of the new unit, along with the “little bird” helicopters that Dick had helped build.

  I couldn’t get past the part about his being in a unit that did dangerous things all the time and the fact that we would have to move to a place called Fort Campbell, Kentucky. He was still talking when I interrupted him.

  “Do you have any idea how much I’ve worried about you for the past three months, how I had to live with the fear that you might not make it back alive and I might be left alone to raise the boys? Didn’t you tell me how dangerous the flying and training was, that a couple of times you and Ned almost crashed, and that if you guys had really done the mission, there wasn’t a clear exit strategy to get out of Iran? Forgive me for being a party pooper, but I’m thinking that was enough excitement to last a lifetime!”

  “I know all that, Vick. But this is an opportunity to be part of a new and groundbreaking chapter in Army aviation history. It’s what I love doing.”

  “I know you’re disappointed you didn’t get to carry out the mission that you and the guys worked so hard on. I can’t imagine what you’re feeling, but, Dick, you already lead an exciting life flying helicopters. And you have a wife and two beautiful boys who love you. We need you. It’s time you start being a husband and father to us.”

  The ensuing silence made me wonder if I had said too much. I had never wanted to stand in the way of Dick’s career, but this was one of the rare occasions when I took a stand. Something told me we were at a fork in the road. I knew that we wouldn’t always have a choice, but we did this time.

  Finally, he said what I was hoping to hear. “I guess you’re right. Ned and some of the other guys are going. I thought I wanted to go, too.”

  The fact that he didn’t put up much of a fight told me that he knew it was an unnecessary and dangerous risk at that point; I think he just needed me to help him along with the decision.

  With that settled, I said, “Dick, put away your long face. The kids are napping, and we’ve got some catching up to do!”

  Dick returned to his old job in 2/9 CAV. He was glad to be home with the boys and me, but I also knew that he was feeling the letdown after months of living on the edge, working and flying in extreme conditions, planning a mission that was exciting and exhilarating but that never got to play out.

  Spring, the most beautiful season in Savannah, was just around the corner, and it was as if Dick had never been gone. But that summer brought some changes. Ned left to go into the special-operations aviation community, and he and Carole got divorced. It was difficult for Dick and for me because we had grown so close to both of them.

  Then my best friend Sarah moved, and as I watched her drive away, I thought I would never find another friend like her. I was experiencing one of the most difficult aspects of Army life: making wonderful friends and then having to say good-bye to them after a few years. I was miserable and lonely those first few weeks. Sarah had been my everyday friend, my go-to, the person whom I shared everything with and spent the most time with.

  Fortunately, those sad circumstances were offset by one of the most significant events for our family to date: we bought our first airplane. Ever since Dick had gotten his private pilot’s license back at Fort Eustis, he had dreamed of buying one, and after he got back from his special mission, he seemed more intent than ever on finding one. Many a Sunday after church, we drove out to the Savannah airport to look at private planes. He finally found his dream plane: a four-seater Cessna 172 that was in excellent condition. After much discussion and going over all our finances, we decided to go for it. It was a bold decision for us and a new chapter in our lives. Our plane would take us on adventures all over our country and play an important role in charting a course for all four of us.

  In December 1981, Dick took command of E Company, 24th Combat Aviation Battalion. In one of the huge maintenance hangars at Hunter Army Airfield, he finally realized another one of his dreams: commanding a company. Company command is the first real leadership position for Army officers and offers the most direct influence and impact on soldiers and their well-being. It requires leadership at the most basic level, as well as handling millions of
dollars’ worth of aviation equipment and aircraft. Not only was it a huge responsibility for Dick, but it was also the first opportunity for me to be part of his job and command.

  The boys and I spent time hanging around Dick’s company and in the hangar. Clint and Tyler loved being around Dick, his soldiers, and all the helicopters; it was like their playground. I loved watching Dick with his soldiers and the way they responded to him. He was a born leader. He was also breaking all kinds of records in the aviation maintenance business. He even developed his own formula for aircraft maintenance.

  We faced some challenges and sadness during that time, including another Cobra crash that killed one of our soldiers, and a lot of hard work, but it was so rewarding that we both felt like we were right where we were supposed to be.

  During those long, hot summers, the boys and I spent every day at the pool and went to the beach frequently. On our way back from Tybee Island, we would stop for fresh peaches and tomatoes at roadside farm stands and buy fresh shrimp right off the boats. By the time we crossed the bridge into Thunderbolt and headed down Victory Drive into Savannah, the boys would be fast asleep in their car seats, exhausted from the sun and the ocean. Whenever I looked in the rearview mirror at their sweet little tan faces, their sun-bleached hair stiff with salt and sand, I was so grateful for those times with my kids.

  We also flew our plane up and down the Georgia and South Carolina coasts, landing at little airfields on Hilton Head Island and St. Simon’s Island, and even flew all the way up the East Coast to Vermont. During those trips, Dick taught me some terminology and the basics of flying, map reading, and making radio calls. At first it was scary flying in a small plane, but once I got used to it, I had complete faith and trust in Dick’s piloting skills.