tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-172899902023-11-04T17:21:03.393-07:00Diary of a Soldier MomThe following is my diary from Operation Joint Guard 1997-1998. The drawings are mine, the words are mine, the pain was mine, the joy is mine--I am God's.M. C. Pearsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13777325241098466381noreply@blogger.comBlogger1125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17289990.post-1128051166095133692008-12-17T23:50:00.000-08:002008-12-18T19:42:04.415-08:00The Longest Weekend<a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2402/1433/1600/Irma%203.jpg"></a><br /><br /><br /><div align="center"><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2402/1433/1600/mimi%20army4.JPG"><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2402/1433/200/mimi%20army.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-size:130%;color:#666600;"><strong>OPERATION JOINT GUARD (1997-1998)</strong></span> </div><div align="left"><br /><span style="font-size:130%;color:#006600;"></span><strong><span style="color:#333300;">Medical Briefing:</span></strong></div><div align="left"><span style="color:#006600;"></span></div><div align="left"><span style="color:#006600;"><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2402/1433/1600/It%20begins2.jpg"><img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2402/1433/200/It%20begins1.jpg" border="0" /></a></span><span style="color:#663300;">18 September 1997</span><br /><br /><span style="color:#003300;"><strong>BITTERSWEET </strong></span><br /><br /><span style="color:#333300;">Should I be excited about going or torn apart with sadness?. How will Keegan handle Mommy not being there to kiss away his boo-boos? NINE MONTHS! Will Dave get adequate rest being a ‘single-parent’ as well as a student? Seeing Hungary is a childhood prayer granted…but why now, Lord? Why at this crucial time? Two years old—he is so young. But…he adapts well and is very confident. Will that change? Will he feel deserted? No, no. Don’t think like that. Dave is going to talk about me every day with him. I must remember to trust God. He is in charge. "All things work together for good for he who loves the Lord." "I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me." It will be a growing time for me. I’m sure of that, at least. </span></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"><span style="color:#333300;"></span></div><div align="left"><span style="color:#333300;"></span></div><div align="left"><span style="color:#333300;"></span></div><div align="center"><strong><span style="color:#666600;">Click on pictures to view them better</span></strong></div><div align="center"><strong><span style="color:#666600;"></span></strong></div><div align="center"><strong><span style="color:#33cc00;"><span style="color:#666600;">MSG Burke:</span> </div></span></strong><p align="center"><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2402/1433/1600/MSG%20Burke1.jpg"><img style="WIDTH: 176px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 263px" height="280" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2402/1433/320/MSG%20Burke.jpg" width="159" border="0" /></a></p><div align="left"><span style="color:#333300;"><br /></div></span><div align="left"></div><div align="center"><strong><span style="color:#666600;">Newspaper Clipping:</span> </strong></div><div align="center"><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2402/1433/1600/MSG%20Burke%202.jpg"><img style="WIDTH: 175px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 255px" height="271" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2402/1433/320/MSG%20Burke%202.jpg" width="191" border="0" /></a></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="center"><br /><strong><span style="color:#666600;">SGT Summers:</span></strong></div><div align="center"><span style="color:#006600;"><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2402/1433/1600/SGT%20SUMMERS1.jpg"><img style="WIDTH: 150px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 221px" height="255" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2402/1433/200/SGT%20SUMMERS.jpg" width="178" border="0" /></a></span></div><div align="center"><span style="color:#006600;"></span></div><div align="left"><strong><span style="color:#33cc00;"><span style="color:#666600;">Newspaper Clipping:</span> </span></strong></div><div align="left"><strong><span style="color:#33cc00;"></span></strong></div><div align="left"><span style="color:#006600;"></span></div><div align="left"><span style="color:#006600;"></span></div><div align="left"><span style="color:#006600;"><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2402/1433/1600/Ctt.jpg"><img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 105px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 181px" height="257" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2402/1433/320/Ctt.jpg" width="156" border="0" /></a></span><span style="color:#663300;">24 September</span><br /><br /><span style="color:#003300;"><strong>BUY DRAMAMINE</strong></span><br /><br /><span style="color:#333300;">It has been a long and stressful week and it is only Wednesday. Making sure all the CTT was completed for the RTT validation…I’m just thankful I had already completed my tasks early: NBC, qualification, and shots. Paperwork is the main problem. All of the S3 was sent to Hungary already, so… we are making do as best we can. The line for the computer is a joke and passwords are sacred. All of S1 will be sent tomorrow, so we are rushing to complete POM packets. PROBLEM: No copiers! Well, I guess we will lease one…but will it arrive today? Just four more days…Weekend Warriors, you are about to go on the longest weekend of your lives. </span></div><span style="color:#333300;"><div align="left"></div><div align="left"><br /></span></div><div align="left"><div align="right"><strong><span style="color:#666600;">SGT Bauer/Bus:</span></strong></div><br /><span style="color:#006600;"><div align="right"><strong><span style="color:#33cc00;"><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2402/1433/1600/d-day.jpg"><img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 173px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 265px" height="309" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2402/1433/320/d-day.jpg" width="189" border="0" /></a></span></strong></div></span></div><div align="left"><span style="color:#006600;"></span></div><div align="left"><span style="color:#006600;"></span></div><div align="left"><span style="color:#006600;"><div align="right"><strong><span style="color:#33cc00;"><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2402/1433/1600/d-day.jpg"></a></span></strong></div></span></div><div align="left"><span style="color:#663300;">25 September</span><br /><br /><strong><span style="color:#003300;">D-DAY</span></strong><br /><br /><span style="color:#333300;">We are now considered Active Duty Soldiers. It’s time to load up our duffel bags full of OCIE and send them on their way to Fort Benning.<br /></span><br /><span style="color:#663300;">28 September</span><br /><br /><strong><span style="color:#003300;">DON’T THINK ABOUT IT</span></strong><br /><br /></div><div align="left"><span style="color:#333300;">We are on the bus to KCI now and many are quiet and reflective. Most of us just said goodbye to our loved ones and we find it hard to look others in the eye. The others are conversing, avoiding the topic…joking. Laughter is the best medicine. I just keep telling myself that I’ll think about how much I miss Dave and Keegan later. Not now. I’m one of the lucky ones who still haven’t said good-bye. I don’t know how I am going to handle that moment yet. I’ll think about it later. Word to the wise: Don’t listen to ‘Goodnight Saigon’ by Billy Joel on the bus to the Airport. </span></div><div align="left"><span style="color:#333300;"></span></div><div align="left"><span style="color:#333300;"></span></div><div align="left"><span style="color:#333300;"></span></div><div align="left"></div><p><span style="color:#333300;"></span></p><span style="color:#333300;"><p align="right"><strong><span style="color:#666600;">SPC Irma Anderson</span></strong><strong><span style="color:#33cc00;">:</span></strong></p><strong><span style="color:#33cc00;"><p align="left"><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2402/1433/1600/Irma.jpg"><img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" height="287" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2402/1433/320/Irma.jpg" width="178" border="0" /></a><br /></span></strong><br /></span></p><span style="color:#003300;"><strong>BON VOYAGE?</strong></span> <span style="color:#006600;"><span style="color:#333300;"><br /><br /></span></span><span style="color:#006600;"><span style="color:#333300;"></span></span><span style="color:#006600;"><span style="color:#333300;"><p>We arrived late, late, late in Fort Benning, GA tonight and all are emotionally and physically drained. Instead of allowing us to go right to bed, they made us do personnel paperwork until 0100 hours. We have a 0600 wake-up and a full week or two of training and testing before we are allowed to go to Hungary. Now that we are here, we just want to get through this as fast as possible. The plane rides were uneventful as I constantly fought back my emotions…I would drift to the idea of Keegan’s sorrow, and have to immediately shake my head and try to think of other things. Our parting was quick…too quick. The media was there and wanted to interview Dave and me. The questions were hard to answer without letting down the wall I seem to have constructed against my sorrow. I am so very sad but not for myself…for Keegan and Dave. It will be extremely hard for them. God please help us all deal with the emotions and comfort each other—even if it is by ignoring the actual topic. I just wish I could hold Keegan and tell him again how much I love him. Lord, let this pass quickly—let the time fly! I wish I could wake-up and it would be finished. But, alas…it has only just begun. </p><p align="center"><strong><span style="color:#666600;">Front Page News:</span></strong></p><p align="center"><strong><span style="color:#33cc00;"><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 220px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 161px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" height="167" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2402/1433/200/Irma%2023.jpg" width="266" border="0" /></span></strong></p><p><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2402/1433/1600/Irma%2021.jpg"></a><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2402/1433/1600/Irma%2031.jpg"></a></p><p align="center"><strong><span style="color:#666600;">We all have a story to tell; this one is of my soon to be roommate and her husband.</span></strong></p><p align="center"><strong><span style="color:#666600;">The story of Irma and Darnell:</span></strong></p><p><strong><span style="color:#33cc00;"><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2402/1433/320/Irma%2042.jpg" border="0" /></span></strong></p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p align="center"><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2402/1433/1600/why%20me.jpg"></a></p></span></span><span style="color:#006600;"><p align="left"><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2402/1433/1600/why%20me.jpg"></a></p></span><span style="color:#006600;"></span><br /><div align="left"><strong><span style="color:#666600;">The rest of their story:</span></strong></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"><span style="color:#006600;"></span></div><div align="left"><span style="color:#006600;"><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2402/1433/1600/why%20me.jpg"><img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 160px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 243px" height="279" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2402/1433/320/why%20me.jpg" width="170" border="0" /></a></span> </div>M. C. Pearsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13777325241098466381noreply@blogger.com2