The Unseen Heroes

My oldest daughter was in fourth grade when the Twin Towers fell in 2001. In the week following the attack, our daughter asked if it was safe for them to play outside. Since we lived in a military community, the attack was a main topic of discussion as was the impending mass deployment of many of her friends’ parents. My husband and I were booked on a flight the second day planes were allowed back in the air, so she also expressed her fears for our safety while flying. I told her in no uncertain terms that I would absolutely not cancel the trip. Our family and our country would not be paralyzed by fear. Besides, I had my own personal Marine going with me.

It was during that discussion with her that I truly realized how much our choice to be an active duty family molded who my children were becoming, and how my own experience growing up in the military had forged who I was and how I viewed the world.

There is no doubt, our military children serve.

They are the silent, unseen heroes of our nation. Always saying goodbye, having to pick up and start over. They must learn to “fit in” more than a few times during their parent’s career. Their behavior can cause trouble for their parent at work, and they may always feel they are under scrutiny. And sometimes they are.

From an early age, the things they learn and experience are different from a child growing up in the civilian world. Installation housing is their playground, where the houses all look alike and sometimes name and rank adorn a sign in the yard. They are born into a culture defined by rank and grade. They learn to pick their mom or dad out in formation not by what they are wearing, but by how they stand, walk, or that certain something they recognize that tells them that Soldier, Sailor, Airman or Marine is theirs. They speak the language of acronyms early on, but they know what it means when they see “NO POVs” or “APO.”

They know what “attention” and “parade rests” and “at ease” mean. And if you’re one of mine, you have had to do all three during a serious talk or when the fidgeting is more than I can handle. Sometimes they march around just for fun and to be “like Daddy.”

Sometimes they sing cadences along with nursery rhymes as they march. They know the difference between the family camping gear and their parent’s 782 gear. Military children don’t drive cars, they operate vehicles. If their family hunts they don’t have guns, they have weapons.

They also know PT means their dad’s knees will be aching the next day. They learn the right way to do pushups and know if they don’t properly police a campsite at the end of a camping trip they may have the opportunity to practice those pushups.

Capture the flag and paintball fights are serious business and they do take prisoners.

They sacrifice so much, sometimes more than we know because they soldier up and do what needs to be done, often without realizing it’s a burden. It’s just life. They must be strong, independent, and learn responsibility at an early age. They are often called on to help care for younger siblings and fill in when the parent at home just can’t be everywhere at once.

Our kids have to learn to be patient and understanding. They attend their awards ceremonies, athletic events, and even those once in a lifetime moments like graduation with only one parent in attendance because the other one is on a ship, an island, or in the desert. They sometimes have to have those important parent-child heart to heart discussions via VTC, Skype, or email.

They learn respect early for the American Flag and our National Anthem, and more than a few know the familiar notes of Reveille. They learn all too soon what a flag at half mast means. MIA, KIA, or POW are what their nightmares are made of and, for some, those three letters become a reality.

I am proud of my husband. I am in awe of my children.

I read a preface by Pat Conroy for one of the only books I could find years ago about being raised in the military. I have taken some liberties to paraphrase and made a change or two, but the words are mostly his:

One day there will be a parade, just for us. Our parents will fill the reviewing stand with their uniforms squared away and their medals reflecting the sun. We will all march smartly forward to the sounds of martial strains and as we approach, an adjutant will shout the order. Our eyes will snap right, saluting as we pass. Then, the warriors filling the stands will rise and return the salute acknowledging the tremendous service, sacrifice, and courage of some of the nation’s greatest and most unrecognized heroes, military children.