Army Guy has this ability to compartmentalize events like no one's business. Some days, I wish he would do it a bit less, but more often, I wish I could be more like him.
When Army Guy deployed the first time, we had a rough deployment. The first months, several Soldiers were lost. After blackout was lifted, Army Guy would touch base with me. Sometimes he talked at length about the event. Sometimes he just made random comments about the event. But he would always take one phone call/IM session to address the event and then he'd move on. It was like I was the closure for him. As soon as he finished talking to me about it, he packed it up and put it away. Not forgetting, but continuing on with the mission.
Before the guys redeployed, the unit sent one of their psychologists home early to "prepare us" for what they had been seeing in the guys. She briefed about how similar Iraq was to Fort Bliss, what PTSD symptoms were, when we should be asking for help, etc. I soaked up every bit of it, assuming that when Army Guy came home, he'd unload all of his compartmentalizing. I was prepped. Army Guy came home all smiles. So I just sat around waiting for these symptoms to arrive. They never did.
Army Guy has this whole "what happens in country stays in country" theory. He'll randomly talk about experiences, but not when you directly ask him about them. He doesn't talk about fallen Soldiers. He just doesn't. And I don't think it's a "if I don't think about it-didn't happen" thing. It's his coping mechanism. It's his way to keep functioning. To keep deploying. To keep surviving Army.
I'm the yin to his yang though.
I see a picture, hear a sound, see a combat patch and so on and my mind wonders back to the events. Recently a photographer that was with Army Guy's unit in Iraq published a book of pictures. In the middle of the book is a picture of a LT that Army Guy served with standing in front of the caskets of 4 fallen Soldiers prior to their Angel Flight. Tears are streaming down his face. The picture instantly brings tears to my eyes. I'm instantly thinking of sitting in their Memorial Service surrounded by my support group watching the family of those Soldiers listening to their fellow Soldiers remember them. I'm instantly hearing bag pipes playing Amazing Grace. I'm remembering utterly failing at trying to brace myself for the gun salute and Taps.
There's a picture of Army Guy and myself at our ball with that same unit. It makes me remember going to get hair and makeup done with the mom of a fallen Soldier, who I met for the first time when I flew out to attend her son's funeral. I remember sitting at the service in Washington, thinking how much I wished I would have the opportunity to meeting this Soldier before the guys had deployed. I remember how genuinely pleased his parents were to meet a spouse from the unit. I remember being in such awe of them as they welcomed home his platoon as if they were parents to the entire platoon. I remember the entire platoon embracing them as parents of the whole platoon. It made my heart hurt as much as it made my heart blissfully happy.
Recently, the rotational unit here had the same combat patch as a fallen LT that served with Army Guy prior to their Afghanistan deployment at our last unit. As I was standing in line behind two of them at the PX, one of them mentions "well it's only a year right?" and I think of the LT's widow who said she thought the same thing as she watched her Soldier say a private goodbye to their daughter on deployment day. I think of watching them take walks through our shared neighborhood, always looking happy and content. I think of how impressed Army Guy was with this LT's leadership abilities. I think of how strong and graceful his widow is. I think of how while their little girl has suffered an enormous loss that she might not really comprehend at this time, she has an amazing amount of people in her life that won't ever let her forget how awesome her daddy was, is and will always be.
Army Guy does a good job of comforting me through these roller coasters of memories. He hugs, he asks if I need Kleenex, but most importantly he just lets me explode. And after I'm done with all my "this sucks, why do we do this?" and "okay, I'm done, thanks for letting me have my moment" and "we can't possibly get out of the Army!" emotional roller coaster, he smiles, laughs and gets back to his compartmentalized little world.
And I wish I was more like him.
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