To my lieutenants past and present: No, I am not thanking Apple for making the iPhone but I am glad all of you had unlimited texting, even when you texted me at three in the morning, just to let me know you’d all gotten home safely. Thank you for never quitting, even when I threatened you with the choice between working all night on an OPORD versus chicken nuggets and macaroni and cheese. It may not have been the dinner of champions, but you got the order written. I demanded a lot from you but each and every one of you dug in and figured it out. I am proud of what you accomplished even if I only turned one of you onto books. Remember that you are stronger together than you are separately and never let the comms go down. No matter what, remember that our mission is to make sure that eighteen year old kid walking the streets can call for fire or call for MEDEVAC.
Charlie Company, you look amazing. I am proud to have served as your commander. We worked a lot of late nights and long hours but no one had to wear the Flavor Flav laptop necklace. You deployed in support of 504th BFSB in North Fort Hood, 52nd Engineers and 62nd CSSB in Guernsey WY, and 21st CAV MRX in Brownwood. You prepared to deploy in support of Hurricane Irene, 13th ESC’s CTE and KMI. You were one of the first units in recent Army history to engineer a TROPO link and pass WIN-T data over that link. Despite having to evacuate the site because of forest fires, there was never a doubt in my mind that you could accomplish that mission and as usual, you never failed.
Charlie Company, thank you for never saying “We Can’t.” Thank you for always giving it a hundred and ten percent and remembering that what we do isn’t about us, it’s about that eighteen year old kid on patrol. I never did manage to make you laugh at my safety briefings even if you were quietly horrified at the very first one. Remember to continue to have each other’s back.
To the new commander: Charlie Company is the best damn group of soldiers I’ve served with in sixteen years. Give them a task and purpose and they will never fail. I will never forget my time as Viper Six. It has been the most rewarding position I have ever held. I hope I made a difference in some small way.
Viper Six, Out.
The End of the War
2011
The End of A War
October 21, 2011
I DON’T REMEMBER when Vietnam came to an end. I remember being a little girl, and watching news reports about the years following Vietnam but I never really understood why it was important and why we kept hearing about it until much later in life.
My daughters will watch the news tonight. I will make sure of it. I want them to remember the day the President said that the war in Iraq was coming to an end for American soldiers. I want them to remember the day the President said their daddy would be home for Christmas.
And I pray, more than anything, that he simply comes home. That not one more soldier dies in this war.
4479 service members have died in Iraq. Do not ever forget the families watching the news right now who will not have that homecoming because their son or daughter or husband or wife has fallen.
I didn’t expect my own reaction to the news that the war was ending. In 2005, my husband had first returned from Iraq a changed man. We were determined that one tour was enough, that we’d done our part and we were getting out of the military. But time passed and we stayed. We stayed, agreeing we would stay until it became too hard for our small family.
We stayed, through 4 combat tours. We stayed, through missed birthdays and anniversaries, through long nights waiting for phone calls, through tears while I sat in my CHU downrange, wanting nothing more than to go home and hold my babies.
We stayed, knowing that this war could drag on for decades or longer. We stayed.
Today, the President has announced the war is over, but it’s not over. We still have soldiers in Iraq. We still have troops patrolling every single day, providing the covering force for their brothers and sisters as they come home.
So today is cause for optimism. I won’t lie and tell you I didn’t cry. That the crushing sense of relief that will finally, finally be over didn’t bring tears to my eyes that I couldn’t have stopped even if I’d wanted to. That I didn’t sit here and weep, remembering standing on the flight line in Mosul, saluting flag draped coffins.
I will never forget where I was when the war started with shock and awe. I was standing in the S3 office in Korea, watching the bombs falling on Baghdad.
I will never forget where I was when I heard the news that our troops were finally, finally coming home. Sitting in Barnes and Noble, the day after my change of command, listening to the President tell the American people “Today, the war in Iraq will be over.”
A day I never thought would come has finally arrived. Now, there is just one more day that needs to come. My husband, marching across Cooper field, coming home for the last time to his little girls.
Pray for our troopers who will close this war down. Pray that every single one of them still over there comes home safely, that not one more family must mourn the loss of a loved one.
Today, the war comes to an end, but it’s not over until our last soldier is home.
The Wait for the End of the War
December 15, 2011
THE COLORS HAVE BEEN cased in Iraq. The mission is almost over. The last troopers are heading home in a few days time to please Lord, make it home for Christmas. This Christmas, regardless of whether my husband makes it home for the actual day or not, will be extra special for my family. My husband will be home. He will not be going back. It’s his turn to watch the next war on TV. He’s served and served well, nearly 50 months in combat. He’s coming home to two daughters who have grown up largely without him. A bass boat that has sat neglected in the front yard. A cat who will tear him limb from limb and then curl up on his lap. And a faithful old dog who has been the most enthusiastic welcoming committee every single time he’s walked through that front door.
The war in Iraq is winding down. I started reading through my blog posts from my year there because I’m funny that way. I wanted to remember the year I spent in Mosul, writing and blogging and just fucking grateful that I had a toilet and a real shower. I made it through the year with no camel spiders (thank you sweet newborn baby Jesus). A whole lot of memories rose. Some funny. Some utterly soul crushing. A lot of firsts. Indirect fire. Ramp ceremonies. Earning my combat spurs.
I think it’s oddly fitting that today I received an email from a fellow officer who shared the piece I submitted to the NY Times At War blog (http://www.jessicascott.net/blog/2009/11/what-is-it-like/) with a ROTC Cadet who was having a hard time with a loss of a friend. The fact that something I wrote during deployment made a difference more than two years later? It’s not why I wrote it back then but maybe it’s why I shared it. But it means a hell of a lot to me that something I struggled with terribly made a difference for someone today.
Thomas Ricks asked over on Foreign Policy what he should say when soldiers asked why did my friend die when yours did not. What did you do during the war? Maybe those aren’t the right questions we need to be asking. As the last soldiers depart the desert for hopefully the last time, maybe the questions we need to ask are not those of an individual but as a nation. Why did we go? Was it worth it? What difference did we make?
We may not like the answers we find. If we do not, though, what will we do with them? It is fine to bitch about the government over coffee but what will you do the next time our nation sends its sons and daughters to war?
Maybe a more important question even now is what will you do with those sons and daughters who are coming home from war? Will you hire them? Will you look at anyone who wore the uniform and think that he or she served honorably just because they wore the uniform? I have been a commander. Everyone who wears the uniform has not served honorably. But what to do with those who have but who have come home changed? Maybe not damaged. Maybe just different.
The colors are cased. We are waiting for our soldiers to come home. The war is over. Did we make a difference? Did our frien
ds die for a reason? Or were they merely called home, their time on this earth done far too soon? I don’t know. I wish I did.
Maybe now at the end of the war, all we can hope is that we maybe, in some way, made a difference. Hopefully a good one.
Home Coming
December 23, 2011
It is the end of the day. All I have to do now is go to sleep and wake up and we’ll be rushing to Fort Hood to pick up my husband from his 4th and final homecoming from Iraq.
I have no idea where the day went. We went grocery shopping first thing this morning. Did laundry. Cleaned. Organized. Shaved. Colored my hair. Mani/pedi last night so I won’t have dragon claws. Cleaned again. I lost count how many times I cleaned my kitchen. I give up. Made mouse cookies. Cleaned kitchen again. Put groceries away (This took most of the day). Redid the Christmas tree b/c the damn cats have been tearing at the low hanging ornaments.
It’s now the end of the day and I’m finally taking a minute to myself (somewhat: my children are drawing on the white board behind me).
It’s hard to believe that it’s been two years since I marched across that parade field myself. I’ve stood in the stands twice before. The music is pumping. Kids are alternating between crying and screaming and fidgeting because most of us get there an hour early at least. Then the waiting. Waiting. Waiting for the music to start. Waiting for the buses to pull up in front of the parade field, their doors facing away so we can’t see the troopers debarking. They form up behind the buses and the families are all chanting Move that bus. The stands shake from the noise. Your voice is hoarse from yelling.
And then they move the buses. The formation moves in step across the field. You can hear the commands from the sergeant major or the first sergeant leading them. The guest speaker, whoever it is, keeps his or her remarks to less than a minute, knowing no one wants to hear what he’s got to say. Then the invocation. And finally the word everyone, soldiers and families alike are waiting for: DISMISSED.
And it’s utter and complete chaos. Families swarm the field. The formation disperses as soldiers scan the crowd for kids who have grown up in the year they’ve been gone. For wives who’ve had babies or colored their hair or put on make up for the first time since he left. For the husbands who have gotten a hair cut or put on a nice shirt or maybe, came straight from work and so blend in with everyone else in uniform.
Then you see him. He looks taller. Tired from traveling for two days. He hasn’t shaved. But a slow smile spreads across his face. And that first kiss is magic, pure magic. If the kids are there, they get to him first, jumping into his arms with cries of "Daddy Daddy." He buries his face in their necks, his arms tight around their little bodies.
It’s only a moment, but it’s the moment you waited for a year or more for. For some of us, it’s the moment we’ve been waiting almost a decade for: the last homecoming. It’s all the more precious.
And to all of our troops who are crossing that parade field for the last time, welcome home.
More Books by Jessica Scott
To Iraq And Back
In 2009, Army second lieutenant Jessica Scott deployed to Iraq as part of Operation Iraqi Freedom and Operation New Dawn.
It was a year of many firsts.
This is the first person journey through a combat tour in Iraq, through being a woman in the army and learning to be an officer in the unforgiving environment of a brigade combat team.
This is the journey of a writer, learning to find her voice.
This is the journey of a mother, confronting the emotions of leaving her children.
This is the story of an inexperienced lieutenant, growing into a leader. This is the journey as it happened, without commentary.
This is her blog. There are many blogs from the Iraq war, but this one is hers.
Because of You
From the war-torn streets of Baghdad to the bittersweet comforts of the home front, two wounded hearts navigate the battlefield of coming home from war in this explosive eBook original from newcomer Jessica Scott.
Keeping his men alive is all that matters to Sergeant First Class Shane Garrison. But meeting Jen St. James the night before his latest deployment makes Shane wonder if there’s more to life than war. He leaves for Iraq remembering a single kiss with a woman he’ll never see again—until a near fatal attack lands him back at home and in her care.
Jen has survived her own brush with death and endured its scars. And yet there’s a fire in Shane that makes Jen forget all about her past. He may be her patient, but when this warrior looks her in the eyes, she feels—for the first time in a long time—like a woman. Shane is too proud to ask for help, but for Jen, caring for him is more than a duty—it’s a need. And as Jen guides Shane through the fires of healing, she finds something she never expected—her deepest desire.
Anything For You
From the author of Because of You comes an all new Coming Home short story.
Sergeant First Class Shane Garrison has spent a year recovering from his combat injuries. A year spent in the arms of the woman of his dreams. But loving Jen comes with a price: every time he touches her, he faces the uncertain fear that loving her might mean losing her forever.
Jen is a breast cancer survivor and with Shane, she’s found a man who loves her despite her scars. But her scars may be too much for their love to survive.
As their love grows, so does the risk to Jen’s life. And Shane must make the toughest decision any man can make to save the woman he loves.
Until There Was You
Jessica Scott returns with an all-new contemporary eBook original romance, following her sizzling debut novel Because of You.
From the author of Because of You comes an all-new contemporary eBook romance. He plays by the rules, she’s not afraid to break them. Now these two strong-willed army captains will prove that opposites attract . . .
A by-the-book captain with a West Point background, Captain Evan Loehr refuses to mix business with pleasure—except for an unguarded instance years ago when he succumbed to the deep sensuality of redheaded beauty Claire Montoya. From that moment on, though, Evan has been at odds with her, through two deployments to Iraq and back again. But when he is asked to train a team prepping for combat alongside Claire, battle-worn Evan is in for the fight of his life.
Strong, gutsy, and loyal, Captain Claire Montoya has worked hard to earn the rank on her chest. In Evan, Claire sees a rigid officer who puts the rules before everything else—including his people. When the mission forces them together, Claire soon discovers that there is more to Evan than meets the eye. He’s more than the rank on his chest; he’s a man with dark secrets and deep longings. For all their differences, Evan and Claire share two crucial passions: their country and each other.
About the Author
Jessica Scott is a career Army officer, mother of two daughters, three cats, and three dogs, wife to a career NCO, and wrangler of all things stuffed and fluffy. She is a terrible cook and even worse housekeeper, but she’s a pretty good shot with her assigned weapon and someone liked some of the stuff she wrote. Somehow, her children are pretty well-adjusted and her husband still loves her, despite burned water and a messy house. No ZhuZhu Pets were harmed in the writing of this book.
Photo: Courtesy of Buzz Covington Photography
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