Confessions of a Military Wife

by Mollie Gross

  The next week I showed up for my appointment with my poop in a jar.

  However, it was not Dr. Lund who saw me, but Dr. Land.

  He tried to put me at ease by saying, “Oh, you’re the one Dr. Lund was talking about.”

  Now what did that mean?

  Here’s an equally gorgeous, young Navy doctor ready to give me the ole’ “one in the stink.”

  So, he sticks his finger up my butt in and exclaims, “The good news is there is no anal spillage!” This is doctor talk for hemorrhoids.

  Then he smiles and winks at me.

  Could life be any crueler? His opening comment keeps playing in my head. “You’re the one Dr. Lund was talking about.”

  Was he going to tell Dr. Lund about my lack of anal spillage?

  I was convinced that I was developing a reputation in the internal medicine department. Every young doctor there had seen my privates and had had their fingers up my butt.

  I was becoming paranoid. What were they talking about behind my back? Did they compare notes? Did my primary doctor tell them about my husband “knocking my cervix out of place?”

  I whipped myself into such a tizzy that I did not go back for several months. I suffered two bouts of the flu with no assistance; I just could not face them again.

  Not only that, every time I drove by the hospital my butt would begin twitching.

  HOLIDAYS

  Holidays can be tricky, particularly for the military. You are usually stationed far from home and your husband is deployed or away training. In fact, you usually have to start new traditions that can adapt to your new duty station.

  It can be easy to feel sorry for yourself because you’re spending the holidays without your loved one.

  While guys sit around sharing war stories, the wives take turns bragging about all the things we had to do without our men. In fact, we would play the “one up” game comparing the anniversaries and Valentine’s Days we had spent alone.

  It’s our way of proclaiming the sacrifices we had made in our marriage, thanks to Uncle Sam. The more a wife had suffered, the better her chance of winning.

  Wives are proud of what they have given up for their country, and all points awarded in “One Up” game are worn like badges of honor.

  Here’s how we play. One wife begins with, “Well, my husband has missed every Valentine’s Day and wedding anniversary for the first three years of our marriage.”

  Remember no sympathy is awarded in the game. This is a competition for bragging rights, not compassion.

  Her comment is an invitation to another wife to challenge her suffering at the hands of the American military.

  The next player proclaims, “I had my first baby when my husband was deployed and it was on Christmas.”

  The crowd goes quiet as eyes dart back and forth waiting to see who can “One Up” the last play.

  Another wife finally counters with, “My husband did an unaccompanied tour last year and missed Christmas, our wedding anniversary, Valentine’s Day, and our son’s first birthday! This past year he was home for Christmas, but we found out he had duty on Christmas EVE!”

  A collective gasp can be heard. Many wives nod—obviously impressed. Who could possibly one up that one? Lips are tight and nostrils flare as everyone waits to find out if she would be crowned champion.

  Silence fell as we all process this last proclamation. The one who suffered the most wins? But do you really?

  I was so blessed to have Jon home at Christmas. And yet, even if they are not deployed during the holidays, certain ranks still have to stand duty.

  This can create a serious uproar at home. Imagine planning an entire Thanksgiving feast for your husband only to find out he will be on duty.

  To balance it out, you have to make the best of the holidays you do have together.

  I tried to make it easy for Jon when he was standing duty by bringing him a home-cooked meal, or at least sitting with him for an hour. One night we found a way to have a little fun with it.

  Jon’s good buddy, Carl, was standing duty, which meant he had to miss poker night. We decided to prank call him at 2:00 a.m.

  I called up to the duty desk and pretended to be a woman looking for her baby’s daddy.

  When Carl answered, I started in. “I am looking for Lance Corporal Jones. He’s my baby’s daddy. I am up here at the gate and they won’t let me in! I need some diapers for my baby!”

  “Ma’am, ma’am, please slow down,” replied Carl, who was obviously beginning to panic. “Who is your child’s father?”

  I started again. “I said Lance Corporal Jones. He hasn’t given me no money in three weeks. My baby needs some food. I am going to call up the newspaper if you don’t get his ass down here right now.”

  “Ma’am, I want to help you,” continued Carl, “but I need…”

  I cut him off yelling, “Shut up fool! I need some diapers for my baby!”

  At that point, I could no longer contain myself. We all started laughing.

  “Ma’am? Ma’am?”

  It was then that Carl’s wife Natalie got on the phone. We took turns making fun of Carl.

  About a month later, Jon was on duty while Carl and Natalie were having a barbecue. Carl’s brother, Joe, was there as well. Around midnight Carl decided it was payback time. He had Joe call the duty desk. When Jon answered, Joe starts in.

  “Sir, I messed up. I really messed up. Please. You have to help me.”

  “Just slow down,” replied Jon. “What’s your name and what company are you in?”

  Joe interrupts, “Sir, I am in Mexico—Tijuana. I was arrested.”

  This is every Officer of the Day’s nightmare. I could just see Jon beginning to sweat. When a Marine gets arrested in Mexico, the Corps’ Officer of the Day has about twelve hours to bail the Marine out before he disappears in the Mexican prison system forever.

  Joe starts up again, “I’m in jail here and I messed up, I’m sorry …”

  I could see Jon’s face. I knew he was beginning to freak out! And that’s when we started laughing. We knew we had really gotten him.

  I am not encouraging you to play pranks on the Officer of the Day, especially if it’s your husband. Remember, this is the government we are talking about. Still, those were hysterical pranks.

  VALENTINE’S DAY

  The stores are stocked with candy and cards. Movie channels play chick flicks back to back. Everywhere you go you see pink and red. Love is in the air on the universal day of romance.

  But this day had no special meaning to me. That’s because for five years straight I have not spent a Valentine’s Day with my husband.

  For me, VD had become a day spent watching thriller movies and eating a box of candy I bought for myself—all the while trying to think about anything but love.

  Why? Because Jon was either deployed or in training every February 14th from the day we met.

  Still, that day was harder to get through when he was deployed. I guess what made it worse was that we could not even talk.

  What can be worse than spending a Valentine’s Day alone? Well, I discovered it.

  During my husband’s first deployment I woke up feeling sorry for myself since there would be no candlelit dinner or kinky sex that evening. By two that afternoon I was still wearing my nightgown, eating raw cookie dough, and watching “Maury.”

  Then the doorbell rang. It was a flower delivery! My mood changed instantly. My husband had remembered me! I was thrilled! My heart soared as I gazed at the arrangement of roses. I tore open the card anticipating my husband’s love note.

  This is what I saw: “Happy Valentine’s Day from your mother-in-law.”

  What’s worse than being alone on VD? Getting a bouquet of roses from your mother-in-law—especially when you’re expecting your husband, who is on the other side of the world, to remember you. That’s right, I got a romantic delivery of roses from my mother-in-law on Valentine’s Day! Of course, it was at the point in the deployment wh
en every kind gesture hits a nerve. And I officially lost it. I knew she meant well, but to a wife in the midst of her husband’s deployment, the gesture was quite inconsiderate. I couldn’t bear to look at them.

  My mother-in-law’s gesture had crossed the boundaries of communication between a husband and wife. She had done what he was supposed to do.

  I thought I was used to civilians doing random acts of kindness for me knowing it was really for their own benefit. I could just hear her telling her friends, “I sent Mollie flowers today because I wanted someone to remember her on Valentine’s Day.”

  It’s the same when civilians pay for military folks’ dinner or drinks. It’s really cool, and appreciated, but we also know they like to talk about it later.

  When you’re going through a deployment, marriage is defined differently. There is just so little to be shared between husband and wife.

  Sending flowers on Valentine’s Day is a romantic gesture. If Jon had not been deployed, I would consider the gesture weird, but I wouldn’t have flown off the handle.

  However, during a deployment we all have short fuses. Somewhere in her mom mind she had imagined she was doing something good. Bless her.

  I stewed as I thought about calling to thank her for the flowers. I knew this would be an uncomfortable conversation. I could imagine having to report I had not received flowers from Jon, but thanking her for hers. The conversation would eventually lead to her wanting to compare notes on how many letters, emails, and calls we had each gotten from Jon.

  I thanked God when Kat called to invite a slew of us over for an impromptu girls’ night out.

  Once we had gathered in her living room, the gossiping began. I knew my girlfriends would bring me out of my funk.

  Then her doorbell rang. It was a delivery of flowers! Unlike mine, Kat’s romantic arrangement had been sent by her husband, who was also serving overseas.

  Kat’s husband Craig may have been gone for this romantic holiday, but Kat had not been forgotten. As we all cooed over her flowers, the chatter began on who had received what for Valentine’s Day.

  The wives who had not received anything began to get defensive and a game of “One Up” started.

  They thought the game was over until I said, “My mother-in-law sent me a bouquet of roses today to wish me a Happy Valentine’s Day.”

  Everyone gasped. I could tell that my “gift” had set new standards of holiday blues without a husband. For the first time in the history of “One Up,” a wife actually received a few sympathetic nods.

  Kat walked over and encircled me in a hug. I had somehow “One Upped” them all, but it didn’t make me feel proud. I actually felt worse. A few wives offered their condolences.

  I walked home feeling defeated and depressed. I was thinking about my husband and our time together. We had not spent a single Valentine’s Day together. Valentine’s Day no longer meant candy, flowers, and romantic dinners.

  We had never thought we needed a particular day to express how we felt because we did it all the time. My husband often surprised me with flowers on random days.

  As I walked home, I thought about how my husband had showed his love on so many other days of the year that this specific day no longer mattered. I was allowing myself to get upset on a day the world determined love had to be shared. I knew my husband loved me and showed me his love on a daily basis.

  I was feeling stronger as I turned the corner and saw a bouquet of roses on my doorstep. The card read: “Go look in the laundry room on the top shelf behind the bleach. Jon.”

  I pushed through the front door and ran inside. I had to put a footstool on top of the dryer just to see inside the cabinet. Behind the bleach I found a card from Jon. It was then I realized he had hidden it there before he had left!

  Tears poured down my face as I read my husband’s precious love note. It felt good to know that Jon had remembered me!

  I thought about what the Apostle Paul had said about love: “Love is patient. Love is kind. Love is not easily offended.”

  I placed both sets of flowers on the table with Jon’s card in the middle. I felt truly loved as I looked at them both.

  I then went to the computer and sent an e-mail genuinely thanking my mother-in-law for the flowers.

  FIREWORKS

  Our first Fourth of July on base was spent on the beach at the north end of the base with Jim and Jessica. Jim is a Pogue/JAG who had gone through training with my husband and Lloyd.

  His wife is an excellent cook, very chatty, fun to talk to, but a very nervous person. She has a darling 10-year-old daughter from a prior marriage.

  Jim and Jess had a rather humorous (some would call it odd) relationship. She fretted all the time. He ignored her. She would make bold statements like, “You take all the joy out of my life!” He would just look away and smirk.

  Beenie and Lloyd joined us at the beach. Good people, good holiday, good times.

  And yet, we were bummed when we found out there would be no fireworks display. Still, there were plenty of things to do—roast marshmallows in the fire pit, play volleyball, or swim in the ocean.

  Beenie and Lloyd had rented a tiny cabin at the beach. It was actually a trailer, but it was a place to go to the bathroom and change clothes.

  This holiday also fell at the time of the month when Beenie was the most fertile. She and Lloyd were trying to conceive, so several times during the festivities they would “excuse” themselves and go off to the cabin.

  For some reason this got under Jess’ skin. She apparently wanted some afternoon delight as well! We could hear her badgering her husband with, “Why don’t you even want to take me away like that?” “We never go off and do it like that!”

  After listening to a full 30 minutes of her whining, I had a feeling there were many other reasons her husband had not taken her away for some love making.

  Jim had started to play with a scanner that some other Marine had brought down to the beach. He was listening in on the various frequencies and became lost in his own world.

  Jess continued nonstop. “Why aren’t you playing with my daughter? Why aren’t you whisking me off to make love in that flea-infested trailer? Why won’t you get in the water? Why won’t you build me a rocket ship?” And on and on she went.

  Her husband simply turned up the volume on the scanner.

  She finally told her daughter that she would play with her. Lloyd had played with her in the ocean most of the day, but he was now ready to sit next to the fire pit and relax with a beer and a hot dog.

  So Jess and her daughter went off to play volleyball while Jon and Lloyd got into a discussion about surfing. Beenie and I settled back to cheer the players on.

  Volleyball nets had been set up all along the beach. About fifty feet away were large cement fire pits set deep in the sand. They had been used heavily that day. Although it was July, the weather was overcast and cool.

  Anyway, someone volleyed the ball to Jess, who hit it out of bounds. You guessed it. It went off in the direction of the fire pit.

  She yelled, “I’ll get it!” We watched as Jess, who stands all of 4’9”, ran straight toward the fire pit. The ball had rolled past it.

  No one said a word of warning because we figured no one could miss a giant fire pit. No one flinched until she flipped ass over elbow into the damn fire pit! Her tiny body disappeared beneath the surface.

  Beenie and I jumped up screaming, “Oh, my God! Jess is on fire!” As I ran toward her, I yelled back at Jon, “Get a towel. Get it wet. Jess is on fire!”

  By the time we got to Jess, she was climbing out of the pit. She looked like a Phoenix rising from the ashes!

  While there was no fire in the pit, Jess had landed on hot embers, which had burned her entire hand.

  She was brushing away tears as we began to fuss over her. Even the strangers she had been playing with gathered to check on her. Jon and Lloyd rushed over with wet towels while her daughter tried to hug her.

  Her husband,
however, remained sitting in his chair, listening to the scanner. I screamed at him, “Jim! Your wife was just on fire!”

  He looked up, looked her over, and went right back to the scanner.

  The rest of the evening was awkward, to say the least. Jess was trying to make jokes about falling into the fire pit. I actually think she was embarrassed that her husband had ignored her.

  Beenie and I were doing our best to distract her. Since she hadn’t even yelled at him, we were holding our breath waiting for the inevitable explosion.

  Jess started poking fun at herself when we checked the ice on her hand. I told her she would be fine, that “Johnny Tremain” had turned out OK and so would she.

  I was referring to a popular book for elementary school students. It’s the story of a Colonial-era youth who became disabled when he burned his hand.

  I guess she had read the book, but didn’t see the humor in my comment. She abruptly stood up and asked her husband to take a walk with her. It was obvious she needed to talk with him.

  There was a moment of uncomfortable silence. We thought she was finally going to let him have it.

  As they walked up and down the beach, we could hear her screaming. Her poor daughter just sat in her chair. No one said a word.

  We could see Jess’s tiny frame in the distance—waving her hands and gesturing. As her volume rose, we did our best to try and ignore it.

  Then she pointed at me and I heard the words, “Johnny Tremain.” Right then Lloyd, who had gone to the restroom (alone), showed up. “Mollie, she’s mad at you for calling her a cripple,” he explained. “She’s been going on about it for ten minutes.”

  That did it. Jon and I grabbed our chairs and left. The base may not have provided fireworks, but we had gotten a “fire show” and enough “explosions” to last us for a year.

  INDEPENDENCE DAY

  Naturally, the Fourth of July is a big holiday on base. And we had some amazing Fourth of July parties. However, Jon never made it to another after Jess caught on fire.

  Since many of the men were deployed during the summer, the wives went all out for this celebration. It was the last holiday before the men came home!