By Elaine Brower, published on OpEdNews.com, 10/28/06
After almost a year of my
son serving in Fallujah, Iraq, the day came when he returned home. Or
should I say the night. The military, in all their glory, decided to
have a “Heroes Homecoming” at 1 AM or 1300 hours. The plane landed in
Philadelphia 12 hours after they left California. From there the
Marines were transported by a Yellow Bus for another 3 hours to
Picatinny Arsenal, New Jersey, in the dead of night.
About 200
family members with signs, flags, buttons, t-shirts and pictures,
eagerly awaited the return of their loved ones, in the cold and dark.
Those of us who worked all day and had to go to work the next day,
tried to enjoy this Homecoming. We all shared stories, laughed, cried
and drank coffee. Of course none of us wanted to complain about the
fact that in the entire United States of America they could not
transport our loved ones home in the daylight. Those of us who planned
dinners, or had posted welcome home banners on the overpasses of our
small towns, did not express our dissatisfaction with this turn of
events. We just stood there waiting. Most of us waited for 4 hours,
during which time the very stern Marine Captain would announce their
anticipated arrival time. “Our Heroes are on their way!” “Our Heroes
will be here in 2 hours!” “Our Heroes will be here in 1 hour!” So we
waited.
It occurred to me that I had become a casualty and
prisoner of this war and occupation of Iraq. I was being held captive,
awaiting the return of my son. I was told for the last year how to
behave, how to conduct myself as a military mother, how to speak to my
son on the phone when he called, what his behavior would be like when
if and when he returned home, and now, where, when and how long to wait
for his return. My anger grew, even when I tried to “behave” properly
around these war-loving family members, and I just kept smiling at
them. I wanted him to come home in the daylight, when I could stay
awake and spend time just looking at his face, and listening to his
voice. So by 1 AM, my smile faded.
The last announcement came
“Our Heroes are at the front gate!” The bus finally pulled up in front
of the large Homecoming crowd and there they were. Battle-hardened,
straight as arrows, tight-lipped Marines stepping off the
transportation on their home soil where they would stay, for now. Not
only did my smile return, my heart and soul ached. It is a feeling that
I cannot put into words. The very next thing I knew I was running
toward the bus and I saw him. My son was carrying 4 bags, 2 large
backpacks and 2 duffels that each weighed more than me. I jumped into
his arms and smelled his neck. At that point, I didn’t realize what
time it was, what day it was, or the fact that I was freezing. I
couldn’t let go of him. Nothing else mattered now. He returned. I felt
very foolish and selfish to think about the time and weather. How dare
I when here I was holding my son in my arms and other mothers would not
be experiencing that feeling.
The floodgates opened and I just
cried. I cried for those who did not return and for the family’s grief;
I cried for those who are still there; I cried for those who will be
going to fight endlessly; I cried for all of us who stood in that
parking lot feeling guilty and happy at the same time.
I cried
for our Country and our children. Now I am crying out to all of you, do
not send my son back to Iraq! Do whatever you can to end the death and
destruction NOW! Not one more mother’s child, please.
Elaine Brower is an anti-war Mother of
a Marine Corps. Sgt. currently stationed in Iraq. She has appeared in
the NY Daily News, NY Times, Good Morning America, and was interviewed
by Pacifica Radio in Los Angeles. She is an outspoken anti-war,
anti-Bush Military Mom; and a spokesperson for the “World Can’t Wait,
Drive Out the Bush Regime.”