A Man in Uniform...

There's just something about a man in uniform.

Our son's "uniform days" began over six years ago when he anounced to us that he had joined the United States Marines. It was a relatively peaceful time in our country and I was proud that he had chosen a direction in his life. His early years in the Corp took him to many world locations, including Korea and Joint Humanitarian Efforts in El Salvador and Honduras.

I never felt ill-at-ease with his military decision. After all, we were living in a relatively peaceful time. My feelings of peace and security ended on September 11, 2001. I remember as I watched the initial news reports, I didn't want to call and wake him up (since he worked nights). Once the second tower was hit, I picked up the phone and made the call. He was already awake and watching the news. As the day went on, I remember asking him, "What will this mean for you?" His response to me was, "I'm not afraid mom - I'll do what I'm instructed to do". I asked him if that was him talking or the Marine Corp, and he said, "There's no difference."

Over the next year, we watched and waited as our country prepared for war. Even though I prayed for another solution, I knew it was inevitible.

In January of 2003, we stood together as a family and said our good-byes as his unit prepared to leave for the Middle East. A week later, we received a phone call from Bobby in California - telling us that this would be his last phone call for an unknown length of time. Even though he wasn't able to come out and say it, we knew that meant that were leaving U.S. soil within the next few hours.

It was more than a month before the first letter arrived.






Over the next six months, we received three phone calls - most of the calls coming in the middle of the night, due to the 11 hour time difference. All of my life, I always dreaded a ringing phone in the middle of the night. At this time, I lived for those 3 a.m. phone calls.

Six months later, every member of his unit returned home safely. It was the greatest night of my life - having him step off that bus and into our arms. Tears flowed freely. The most touching sight was Bobby and his father - hugging and crying. Even now - two years later, that video makes me cry.

He doesn't talk much of his time in Iraq - no war stories. He does talk about the children and about the living conditions of the Iraqi people. Mostly, he talks about the things here that he'll never take for granted again - a bed to sleep in and a porcelain toilet seat.

My son is home - sleeping safely in his bed. I'm proud of his committment to the Corp and his Country, but I continue to pray every night for the thousands of mothers who are waiting for that letter, the middle of the night phone call, and that tearful reunion.

God Bless the men and women of the United States Military!