Millions of soldiers like Doris Otto live throughout our land. They are not official, uniformed, sworn-in soldiers, but they have earned their stripes just the same.
These soldiers have used memories like blankets in which to wrap themselves on cold and lonely nights.
They have felt the anguish, deep in their bones, and the fear, deep in their hearts, that comes with knowing a loved one is in a harsh and hostile place and may not return.
They have looked in the mirror and willed away the thought, “Is this the day that a knock comes on our door?”
They have kept homes and children up and running, despite the loneliness, despite the fear, despite the uncertainty. Like Doris, they have learned to change tires and fix skateboards and keep the worry out of their voices so as not to distract from the main mission: serving and protecting.
But they generally don’t speak of these things, not unless asked, for they accept the realities of military life.
Every day is hard in times of war for those who also serve. Holidays are harder. Now, military families find themselves in times of fear and festivities.
Which is why I checked in with Doris, who lives in Clarksville and works as a legal secretary in Louisville, before Christmas.
I first came in contact with Doris through a letter she wrote to the newspaper when we asked readers to share how their lives had changed since Sept. 11. I’ve spoken with her a couple of times since.
Her letter to The Courier-Journal simply and eloquently communicated the pride and the fear that go with being a military wife and the mother of two grown sons who, like their father, Wayne, made the Air Force their careers. Their younger son, David (Jeffersonville High Class of ’93), has been deployed overseas as part of Operation Enduring Freedom.
“On Sept. 23, 2001, we received a phone call from him saying good-bye, he loves us and be sure to pray for him and all of the airmen leaving with him. You see, he left for parts unknown to help protect our freedom and our country. Being a military family, we are very proud, but as parents we are truly concerned and worried for both of our sons. The fear is there, no sleep and tears, but we go on with our daily lives. We need to stay strong and support America,” she wrote.
I felt an immediate connection with Doris for a couple of reasons.
Like hers, my family served while my father was in the Air Force; I watched as my mother soldiered on when my father had to leave us for countless temporary tours of duty and a yearlong stint in Vietnam. Even now, all these years later, the scariness of those times swoops down out of nowhere and catches me off-guard; I’m not sure you ever get over it.
And, in her letter, Doris recounted how David performed heroically in 1996 when he was on temporary duty in Saudi Arabia. The Khobar Towers housing complex for U.S. and allied soldiers was bombed by terrorists, and David rushed into the building to save the grievously wounded. He received an Air Force Commendation Medal with Valor for his service that day. Five of those killed in Khobar Towers were from Patrick Air Force Base in Florida; I lived on base at Patrick when I was a teen-ager and have known, in my adult life, so many good people who worked there.
So, a couple of months into the war on terrorism and just a week shy of Christmas, I wanted to see how Doris and her family were doing.
David is able to contact his parents often enough to offer them some relief from the worry they carry. He told them that where he is (which we cannot know, because it’s classified), everyone is making Christmas ornaments out of anything they can find. So Doris and Wayne sent David a big Christmas package with candies, cookies, CDs, magazines and other goodies — and also enclosed a 1-foot Christmas tree with fiberoptic lights. People who work at Doris’ law firm also sent David a Christmas box from home.
Doris and Wayne will go to Georgia to spend Christmas with son Daniel, his wife and their children. They’ll think about David, a strapping 6-foot 5-inch, 220-pound lover of ham and potato salad and vegetables and pumpkin pie, as they sit down for their holiday dinner. She remembers they were all together last Christmas.
The uncertainty of the times calls to people in different ways. For David, Doris said, it was a call to re-enlist in the Air Force. He told his parents, “I had to re-enlist. I can’t leave this and it not be finished.”
The Otto family will stay a military family for the foreseeable future. And they’ll live with the fears and dangers that such a life brings. But I think about what Doris said about David’s reaction to the Khobar Towers bombing. “All I could do,” David told his mother, “was run toward the building and help people. The ‘buddy system’ kicked in.”
So much of who we are is because of that buddy system, of people answering calls the rest of us don’t hear or don’t quite understand.
We can let soldiers like David Otto know that we’re thinking of them, and thanking them, for their enduring dedication. It’s an e-mail away: www.anyservicemember.org
As for those who also serve, let’s remember them in our thoughts and prayers this holiday season. And, when we have a chance, let’s thank them, too, for all they do.
My chats with Doris Otto sent me looking for some long-ago song lyrics that said what I wanted to say better than I could. So, this is for the Otto family, and all the families like them:
Say a prayer for the common foot soldier
Spare a thought for his back-breaking work
Say a prayer for his wife and his children
Who burn the fires and who still till the Earth.
To all, a good, good night.
