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In the somber, fading twilight, a San Clemente 6-year-old has a question that only children of war understand. “Mommy, are you going to die, too?” asks Christian Davis on one side of the world. And thousands of miles away in Iraq, Army Pfc. Daryl Hanson Jr. utters a prayer in the dark hours of an early morning: “God, let my parents know that I’ll be OK. Don’t make them live on edge.” Orange County’s young military families, like those of Christian Davis and Daryl Hanson, take nothing for granted. They are not wishing for a Little League win or dreaming of a new car. They are just thankful to have another day. But for some local families, sacrifice is measured by those who don’t come home. Debi Win’E of Orange had a son, 22-year-old Trevor, who was killed 3 years ago in Iraq while driving a convoy. “Trevor will never get married and have grandkids,” said Win’E, “but I can make more memories for him by keeping his memory alive.” The war in Iraq has hit home in smaller, more fragmented ways than previous wars because of conflicted public approval and an imperceptible conclusion. Even so, new military support groups have sprouted up across Orange County in an effort to provide military families and soldiers with the personal support they need and deserve. Hanson, 27, depends on his parents for support, and they give it to him. “The military is so tightly wound that you need outside support,” says Hanson, who is currently stationed in Iskandariyah, a city south of Baghdad, in the Army’s airborne infantry 501st. The Southern California native must deal with the blazing desert war zone without the commodities, freedom and security that Americans receive while on American soil. “Every day, you’re worried if you’re gonna make it to the next,” says Hanson, whose platoon has, sadly, already lost a number of soldiers. The war hits home For those left behind, there’s a different, internal war to fight. “Combat deployment is a whole different level of stress,” says Valencia Davis, 6-year-old Christian’s mother. “You’re reminded constantly of what could happen.” Her husband, Neil, returned home last September from an 8-month stay in Iraq. During his absence, Valencia became the primary caretaker for her son, relying on the daycare at Pendleton’s Child Development Center to watch her son while she taught full time at Loara High School in Anaheim. “My son was 3 or 4 when Neil first went to Iraq,” says Davis, who lives on the Camp Pendleton Marine Base with Christian and Neil. “He didn’t understand about the war, but when he saw news from Iraq on TV, and a bomb would explode, he would become quiet and cry. I’d have to turn off the TV.” Family is everything In Iraq, the pressure and anxiety of simply trying to survive through to the next day wears on the soldiers, but according to Hanson, learning to adapt is the best survival tool. “People learn to cope no matter what they go through,” he says. “The biggest thing is keeping that relationship between oneself and one’s family. You either become an awesome team, or you break.” The importance of family is so obvious and necessary among these military families, who are put to the ultimate test when their families are torn apart. “One day, when Neil was deployed,” remembers Davis, “I found Christian standing at the front door, crying. I asked him, ‘What are you doing?’ He thought his daddy was at the door and had come home. He was so used to that routine.” The changes in routine would wear on Christian, who would get cranky, Davis says. “I had to do a lot of explaining (about his father), but it did comfort him a bit.” Hanson calls his dad every week to trade stories and ease worries. “It’s a balancing act,” says Hanson of trying to stay strong and keep his family from worrying, “but my parents have always been super positive.” When he returned home for a 2-week vacation in July, Hanson was greeted at the airport by his family, holding a banner to welcome him home. “When I come home,” he says, “I feel like a rock star.” Not every homecoming is happy While Hanson’s welcome home was an enthusiastic celebration, the casket that brought Trevor Win’E home was something no parents should have to experience. When Trevor was killed by an explosive device while driving a convoy in Iraq, his mom, Debi Win’E, was in such a fog that she found it hard to function. Trevor wasn’t supposed to go to Iraq. He had tested well in his unit and was chosen to go separately to Korea, but “he didn’t want to be separated from the people he had trained with.” Win’E displays the same undeniable pride for her son that many military moms exude. “He just felt very compelled to serve his country. And we’re proud of him.” This war has been especially difficult on families whose soldiers experience back-to-back deployments, rather than the year and a half break that soldiers were given before the war on terrorism. “Before my husband left,” says Valencia, “he spent as much time with Christian as he could.” They would wait to tell Christian about Neil’s deployment until 6 months before the date. When his father left, Christian would mark off every day on the calendar, counting down the days until his dad would come home. Christian became very reserved during Neil’s first deployment, but the second one was easier. “He’s still very conscious of the concept [of death],” says Valencia. “He still asks questions.” How does she answer these difficult questions? “We’re Christian. ‘Death is a part of living,’ I tell my son. He understands the concept that we will be reunited in heaven; it gives him some comfort.” Comfort in the wake of death In the first year after Trevor’s death, the Win’Es received 50 to 60 envelopes a month with letters of support and money from strangers who had heard of his death. Win’E knew that in order to cope with her son’s death, she had to remain active. She had recently invested in a “cooling vest” for Trevor, a vest made by the company Mist ’n Go designed to keep soldiers cool in the 120-degree heat of the Iraqi desert. Though Trevor never got to wear it, with the money the Win’Es had received, they were able to send nearly 130 cooling vests to Trevor’s unit in Iraq. Since then, the Win’Es have raised about $400,000 to send vests to soldiers stationed in Iraq. “We’re going to (continue) until there’s no money, until everyone has a vest or until everyone comes home,” Win’E promises. Project Prayer Flag Imagine you’re out in the middle of a desert, thousands of miles away from home. Most civilians there don’t speak your language, and you don’t even know which ones to trust. You’ve had 4 hours of sleep, and you’re supposed to be alert, ready with a rifle in hand to fight for a country that now seems so distant. Then, amid a loneliness that starts to wear on you, a care package comes – with your name on it. “It means a great deal to the troops to receive a package from another American they’ve never met,” says Shawn Black of Irvine. Shawn and his wife, Angelica – both military veterans – know the importance of providing support to our soldiers. They run Project Prayer Flag, an organization that sends pocket flags and care packages to troops overseas. The Blacks started the program after sending a small cloth pocket flag with a handwritten letter to a friend who had been looking for Bin Laden in Afghanistan. The friend wrote back, asking the Blacks, “Could you send 100 more?” The Blacks have since sent more than 250,000 flags to the Middle East, Africa and the Philippines. Her little girl went to war “Having a daughter in the military is a very proud, and yet scary, thing,” says Terri Ward of her 21-year-old daughter, Hannah, who is stationed in an Air Force lodging tent in Qatar. Though Hannah is not in an immediate war zone, she tends to soldiers from all branches of the military who use her lodging tent as a midway point to and from war. She has had to handle such difficult situations as “receiving and icing 2 Army bodies being returned to the states,” says Ward. “I’m grateful that she has the character, fortitude and strength to make this decision and fight for our country,” says Ward, a hint of longing in her voice. Though she is concerned for her daughter’s safety, Ward is content to be able to talk with her daughter almost daily, a rarity among military families. “We put her in God’s hands and trust him to take care of her. Worry is what you do when you don’t have faith.” The war made her a stronger person Angelica Black knows what it’s like to be in the military, and she knows what it’s like to be left behind. Upon returning home from her first deployment to Japan, Angelica found that her first husband had abandoned the family, leaving her with debt of more than $100,000 and 2 boys, ages 1 and 6, to raise. “The most important thing for me was not to uproot their world,” Angelica says. So in the midst of the Vietnam War, Angelica chose to commute from Alhambra instead of living on the El Toro Marine Base, because the military was unpopular at this time. “I protected them that way,” she says. When deployed, Angelica paid a family member to stay with her boys until she returned. Angelica said of keeping her family close, “The one thing that is very important is communication.” Despite being a woman, her station in the military actually helped her cope. “Being part of the military, you’re part of a family – a family that challenges you not to be weak. It has the ability to hold you up and to keep you together and to realize how strong you can be.” Let our soldiers know you’re thankful Prayer. Hope. Thanksgiving. In La Habra, Cathy Mitchell gives thanks for her husband’s safe return home this past July. Joseph was on a 1-year tour in Iraq as a soldier in the Army Reserve, and his 9-year-old son, Joey, could not be happier to see him. “Every night, Joey would say a prayer for his dad,” Cathy says. Joey knew the dangers of what could happen, and he was very concerned that his dad wouldn’t return home. During the deployment, Cathy joined the Family Readiness Group (FRG) for her husband’s unit. The program helps families stay in touch with their deployed soldiers and with each other’s families. “We had 209 soldiers deployed out of Joseph’s unit [from Los Alamitos],” says Cathy. Every single soldier returned home safely to their families. During their soldiers’ deployment, the members of the FRGs often get together to stuff care packages and write letters to send off to their soldiers. Cathy says, “We were always being told, ‘Thanks for supporting us. If it weren’t for you guys, we’d be going crazy.’” Support from the general public is good, too, says Cathy. Even if people just write a general letter and send it to a local American Legion, it helps. Just say, “We’re thinking about you, thanks for doing a great job,” Cathy suggests. Supporting our military doesn’t mean joining a protest on a street corner or handing out pamphlets advocating the war. It doesn’t mean spending hundreds of dollars or even very much time. Supporting our military is simply a thought put into action, a prayer said, a letter written. It doesn’t have to be public – it can be personal. You don’t have to be in favor of the war to make a soldier’s sacrifice a little more worth it. |
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