My Yellow Ribbon: A Story by a Soldier's Mother

         We anticipated August 2010 would be a month wrought with a roller coaster of emotions. We were right.

In the spring, our son Sgt. Tyler Davin, age 26, made a deeply contemplated decision to volunteer for deployment to Afghanistan. This meant giving up his job as a Recruiter for the Iowa National Guard, a position with non-deployable status, which he had held for the previous two years. He also chose to reclassify from Combat Medic, the classification in which he had deployed to Iraq from August 2005 to October 2006, to Infantry, which meant attending additional infantry training at Camp Robinson in Arkansas for the month of July. The decision to deploy was his choice and was difficult because it also meant leaving his girlfriend, Abby, of two and a half years. In addition, Tyler’s younger brother Tim, age 24, was engaged to be married on August 14, with Tyler scheduled to serve as Best Man. The send-off for Bravo Company 1-133^rd from Iowa City was scheduled for August 3 at the high school from which Tyler graduated, City High School.

The send-off ceremony was nice, but the real send-off -- the saying of last good-byes -- was one of the most difficult experiences ever. His parents (Tom and me), brother Tim and his fiancé Molly, Abby and her parents from Illinois, Tyler’s grandparents, many aunts, uncles, and cousins, a group numbering in the 30s, were all in attendance. While we couldn’t all sit together during the program, we all joined up in the parking lot outside where two buses awaited the soldiers. The buses were flanked by two hook-and-ladder fire trucks flying a large vertical American flag, and a motorcycle contingent of The Patriot Guard waiting to provide an escort. The most difficult moment was that of an embrace that took place between Tyler and his brother when both broke into tears simultaneously. Tim and Tyler, 27 months apart, were close growing up, rarely arguing, and sharing both friends and passions. The display of emotion was completely unanticipated, but totally understandable.

The buses departed, on their way to Camp Shelby, Mississippi, where Tyler would spend the next 5-6 weeks in training.

It had become clear to us by a week before the wedding that there would not be any last minute, spontaneous trip home for the Best Man. Tyler was, in fact, going to miss his only brother’s wedding. We knew it would make this joyous occasion difficult, but he had a Plan B. Tyler’s best friend and Tim’s very good friend, Cody Fisher, stood in as Best Man at the wedding. The large wedding was truly storybook, and could only have been made even more perfect with Tyler’s participation. Having remained composed the entire day, shortly before Tim was to escort me down the aisle, his dad accompanied him to the bridesmaids’ dressing room. Tim was in tears. That’s all it took for me to be tearful. He hugged me tightly and said, “Tyler should be here.” We all knew that his brother would be sorely missed.

We had investigated the possibility of having Tyler Skype-in to the reception, but that idea was nixed quickly by Tyler. Though it could be done technically, it would be incredibly emotionally difficult for all, most especially for him. So, it was decided that instead of reading his toast to the newly married couple live, he would have Cody read the toast in his absence, as follows:

Tim and Molly:

      I'm lying in my bunk at camp Shelby after spending 12 hours on the range. And while I should have been concerned with my weapon I found myself thinking about the things I'll miss this year. Tim started his new job, Molly is in her first year as a nurse and I'm missing the start of your life together as a young family.

     It pains me to miss one of the most important days of your marriage but I don't have to be in attendance to know that you two are the Norman Rockwell version of a married couple. You both come from great, down to earth families. I can’t think of two better people to form a marriage.

   Molly, you're one of the most giving and caring people I've ever met. You're going to do great things. Tim, you're one of the most selfless and hard working people I know. I was doing just fine at the send off ceremony until I saw the tears in your eyes. I don't cry often but there was no pretending I wasn't affected by your show of emotions. I know as brothers we don't say it often enough but I love you dearly and I know that you’re going to do great things as well. With each other, you both have the potential to achieve any dreams you set for yourselves.

   I love you both and can't wait to spend time with you when I return next year. God has truly blessed both of you and our families and I'm excited to see those blessings in person soon. Until then God bless your marriage and everyone involved. Here's to you, may you cherish each other and live in love forever.

With love as always,
Tyler

Needless to say, there wasn’t a dry eye in the reception hall, and the Best Man in absentia was given a long standing ovation, not only in honor of him, but also in honor of his cousin, Gabe, a 1^st Lt., who was with him at Camp Shelby, also preparing for deployment. Once everyone had collected their emotions, the celebration continued and everyone had a fabulous time.

Gabe joined the ROTC in college and was lucky enough to attend Drake Law School on ROTC scholarship. Gabe trained as an Infantry Officer at Fort Benning, Georgia, during one summer in college, had the opportunity to deploy as a JAG officer, but selflessly chose to deploy as an infantry officer so he could serve alongside those with whom he trained. In addition to his parents and brother, Gabe leaves behind his young family, including his wife, daughter (3), and son (6 months).

The following day was an emotional tailspin for me as the mother of these two young men, Tim and Tyler. While I was elated in the marriage of my younger son to his lovely high school sweetheart of seven years, the gravity of the absence of Tyler, as well as his impending deployment, hit me like a ton of bricks on a day I had expected to be elated with happiness. I fought tears all day long while trying to enjoy the opening of gifts and to get ready to bid farewell to the newlyweds for their honeymoon the following day. The nest was truly empty!

I have learned not to fight the tears, as they are part of the process of grieving. If you fight them off, you delay the inevitable. Each military departure experienced by a loved one builds on the next. At the time when a parent sends a child off to Basic Training, it seems like the worst day ever, but it pales in comparison to sending a child off to war. Writing about it moves me to tears, but it’s a therapy-kind-of-tears.

In late August we also learned that my sister’s daughter, my niece Brianne, a single mom to her son Dominic of 3 years, would also be deployed to Kuwait and quite possibly be involved in both Iraq and Afghanistan as a Transportation Specialist. She was lucky enough to be able to spend time with her parents and siblings before yet another tearful good-bye in early October 2010. Her son will spend the coming year with his dad and Skype regularly with his mom in her absence.

In mid-September, most of the units from Iowa involved in the largest Iowa National Guard deployment since World War II headed west to Fort Irwin, California, in the Mojave Desert for some rigorous, realistic, and exceptionally valuable training. The training included a two week exercise during which they had no outside communication. This was the biggest test to date and gave the soldiers and their families a taste of what was yet to come. Tyler raved about the training. It was realistic, useful and included classes on the history and culture of Afghanistan, in addition to role playing with “real,” experienced Afghani people set in Hollywood-built villages in terrain similar to where they will have their ultimate assignment. According to Tyler, the best part was the “counter insurgency training,” or COIN, which involves building relationships with the locals.

While Tyler can’t give us advance troop movements, we were able to read between the lines somewhat in determining when they’d leave the United States. As anticipated by me, that day was Monday, October 18. When I read his Facebook status of “Wheels up!” that morning, I knew it would probably be the day, and reality began to set in. In response to his posted status, I wrote in the best humor I could muster up, “Not before you call your mother!” Several hours later, I received a phone call, and the very moment I heard his voice I burst in to tears. He said he didn’t have long to talk, they’d had no notice that it was time to leave, and they were on a bus on the way to the airport. I’m certain he knew his mother would be in tears and needed to keep it short, so I said through my sobbing, “Oh darn it, I knew it, and I’m sorry for crying. But please know that we all love you so much, you are in our constant prayers, and have so much support from home. Please be safe, continue to contact us as much as is safe and technologically possible, and we will talk soon. I love, love, love you so much and will miss you.” Recalling these words brings tears to my eyes as I write them. The sacrifices of the soldiers and their families are innumerable. This accounting of the last couple of months is meant to capture the emotions, support, sacrifice and love which this family, like many others, has dealt and will continue to deal with in the weeks, months, and likely years to come.

Tyler’s trip included a stop in Bangor, Maine, the location from which most incoming and outgoing troops travel. He called once again from the tarmac, and this time I was able to remain composed during the call. We wished him safety and wellness, and he was on his way. The airport in Bangor has a fine and patriotic group of individuals called the Maine Troop Greeters, a kindly group of folks who volunteer their time to meet and greet each of the many planes of soldiers that come in and go out of their airport at all hours of the day and night -- all of them. A grandmotherly-type provided Tyler with a knitted cap. These greeters provide goodwill, support, and gratitude to US soldiers and do it faithfully out of the goodness of their hearts, and I salute them for their patriotism and efforts on behalf of my son and his fellow soldiers.

The troops finally made it to Afghanistan by way of Bulgaria and Kyrgyzstan, arriving at Bagram Air Force Base almost a week after leaving the States. Tyler’s unit was airlifted to their assigned FOB in a mountainous region where they will likely spend the remainder of the deployment.

Many people have asked me how I cope with a son in Afghanistan, and there’s no easy answer. I’ve told everyone that I’ve learned that physiologically the brain must work to protect you in order to live each day and move to the next. In a way, I sweep my thoughts and emotions under the rug in order to cope and deal with them when I must. Sometimes they pop back out when least expected, whether it’s a human interest story about a soldier aired on public radio during the morning commute, news of a soldier’s death or injury, the reading of another parent’s blog, or even plans of a homecoming. What I do know is that the love and support that I receive from not only my own family and friends but perfect strangers, as well as my religious faith, all help to provide me with the strength I need to endure. Writing about the details of Tyler’s deployment, and sharing my feelings with regular email updates to friends, family, and even some people I’ve never met, is my way of helping people to “put a face on the war.” Talking through my feelings through written word is gratifying.

This soldier's mother asks you to contemplate each soldier's and each soldier's family's sacrifices. While one may not agree with the politics of war, this fine group of young men and women are working toward giving the people of Afghanistan the same opportunities of freedom that we enjoy -- and likely take for granted -- each and every day of our lives.