In
June of 2010 I attended a Commander’s Conference in Moline, Illinois, at
Rock Island Arsenal, where my husband’s Division was head-quartered.
The Commander’s wives were provided training in the skills of
deployment survival, for we too serve and offer support whenever we can to the
families of our nation’s heroes as they undertake the defense of the
greatest nation the world has ever known. It is an immense job, both
for the Soldier, and for his family.
At
the conference two women spoke to our group, and never will I forget
the impact they made on my life. One beautiful forty-eight year old
woman shared her story of losing her beloved Soldier. It was a
beautiful love story, a heart wrenching story of loss, and yet as she
told it, we all knew despite the passing of her husband from this life
to the next, she had known a love many never experience.
Through
her tears and ours she told of her experiences both before his death
and after as “the wife of a Soldier.” She told of how she loved the
life of the Army, how she loved being the devoted wife of a Soldier, and
all that this experience entails. She also shared the story of
learning that her husband had lost his life in The War on Terror. She
told of how she had somehow known for around two weeks that her husband
was never coming home, and how she had waited and watched for the
Chaplain and an officer to come, as they always do, to bring her the
news that had already began to steal over her heart. She waited the
news that he had “given his last full measure of devotion” for us all.
The
vision of her face streaming with tears, the earnestness of her broken
heart, and sharing the joy that had been hers in a once in a lifetime
love, will never leave me, and indeed haunted me until I needed to find
the words to express what the experience had meant to me.
When
I was a little girl, my father read to my sister and me every night,
and often it was poetry. He is a veteran, although he says he does not
deserve that title, as he never fought in battle. He was a part of the
occupation forces right after WWII, and almost died of malaria and its'
complications, and later served in the Texas National Guard while I was a
young child. Those childhood memories of his reading to us each night
before sleep are some of the sweetest of my life. My father is giant of
a man, He loved being a Soldier, and if not for the love of my mother,
and her need to be close to her large family, he would have been a
"lifer." I had never written a word of poetry until I met the two women
at this conference, heard of their losses, and then somewhere deep in my
soul, I heard the whisper of my father's voice from childhood reading
"The Road Less Taken," and I have not stopped writing poetry since..
The News
Oh Woman, Woman, why do you wait?
There stands no person at your gate.
Oh Woman, Woman, why is the tear in your eye?
He promised he would be home, bye and bye,
Oh Woman, Woman, why do you turn your ear?
What soft voice is it that you hear?
Oh Woman, Woman why does your heart lurch?
It is only a man coming from the church.
Oh Woman, Woman, I see there are two.
One in a green uniform with something sad he must do.
Oh Woman, Woman, now I know,
How hard will be the way that you must go.
Oh Woman, Woman, surely you remember,
That he promised love like yours is forever tender.
Oh Woman, Woman the wait is so short.
He has only gone before you for heaven’s report.
By Debra LeCompte
June2010
This
next poem I wrote in tribute to the other woman who spoke at our
conference, she had lost a son, and even as she attended our conference
and spoke of the loss of her son, she had another son serving in
Afghanistan. Some women, have a strength which reminds me of one of my
favorite books, East of Eden, by John Steinbeck,
"I
believe a strong woman may be stronger than a man, particularly if she
happens to have love in her heart. I guess a loving woman is
indestructible."
Oh War, Oh War How Sad To Say
Oh War, oh War, how sad to say,
You take our sons and daughters far away.
To subdue tyrants and those who rule,
With hearts so evil and ever cruel.
Oh War oh War, how sad to say,
Always there is a price to pay.
There born on shoulders bowed with care,
Comes the coffins of the young who dare.
Oh War, oh War, how sad to say,
Many are the tears of mothers that fall on that day.
When their dear child is finally laid to rest,
In the soil of their country for which they gave their best.
Oh War, oh War, how sad to say,
Too many are the children who cease to play.
Tears fall from little eyes which will never begin
To understand why they won’t see Mother or Father again.
Oh War, Oh War, how sad to say,
You take life’s one great love in your disarray.
No more in this life their cherished face to see,
The darkness of that hour bends the knee.
Oh War, Oh War, how sad to say,
Stray bullets that wind and find whatever target they may,
While turning and winding, an innocent victim take,
And those deadly spheres leave two in their wake.
Oh War, Oh War, how sad to say,
Hearts of the courageous break as those shells betray.
Memories must be carried by those who are brave,
Of necessary deeds which make their souls rave.
Oh War, Oh War how sad to say,
Sometimes the best return with wounds from the fray.
They leave strong when first they depart,
Then come home and a new life they must start.
Oh War, Oh War, how sad to say,
Always again the ruthless will follow the same way.
Once more the call will go out
For those who know what warmongers are about.
Oh War, oh War, how sad to say,
The price of freedom is never stayed.
Pruning hooks and plows must be beat,
Into weapons your dread disease to defeat.
Oh War, oh War, how sad to say,
With words and pleadings greedy men will not be swayed.
Yet the promise will one day be made complete,
By One who to a cross was nailed by his hands and his feet.
Oh, War, Oh War, on that glad day,
The Son of God will come to lead the way.
The final victory He will take,
No more will sin sad hearts make.
Oh War, Oh War, you are going away,
Peace and happiness for all will come in your stay.
The lion and the lamb will together lie down,
And God’s praises we’ll shout, with a joyful sound.
By Debra LeCompte
She was soaking wet from being out in the rain with her two siblings, (I talked two other folks into taking the sibs,) and covered in fleas. After a warm bath with flea shampoo, she snuggled down and got warm. 
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