ROCK ISLAND ARSENAL, Ill. -- It’s the question we ask each other every year as the anniversary approaches: Where were you on 9/11?
The question never changes, and it transports us back in time almost immediately. For those of us of a certain age, we recall with vivid and detailed memory the sights and sounds of that horrific day with a clarity that is almost blinding. We knew life would never be the same, but what that was going to mean for us was the great unknown. And for a lot of us, that notion was terrifying.
That day changed the course for all Americans in different ways, and military families were no exception. We had been operating in an almost conflict-free existence since Operation Desert Storm. Outside of training exercises and temporary duty assignments, mostly our lives were relatively stable. Almost overnight, it seems, we were introduced to a whole new world of combat deployments, family readiness groups, and operational security briefings.
We put ourselves on homefront alert status and became vigilant in the security of our fellow families and military installations. If we saw something, we said something. We were united in the protective mission, and we unified to keep our “MilSpouse” community strong and resilient. We became a brotherhood and sisterhood that had rarely been recognized before, and the concept of the Total Military Family was brought about because of this paradigm shift.
We also became the bearers of extraordinary grief. We became well-versed in the unimaginable language of casualty notification officers, casualty assistance officers, care teams, military funeral honors, and Gold Star families.
We lost friends. We lost neighbors. We lost spouses. We lost parents. We lost children. We became unaware carriers of the grief experienced by those who lost their loved ones on 9/11. We said goodbye to our servicemembers, not knowing if that would be the last time we spoke to them again. For many of us, it was.
We had no idea on 9/11 that, while we mourned with the families who lost their loved ones that day, it set in motion for us years of heartache, separation, and grief. For many military families, 9/11 was just the beginning of our nightmare.
Where were you on 9/11? My answer used to be I was waiting for the movers to come and pack out the house at Fort Rucker, Alabama, for a move to the Sinai Peninsula in Egypt. My spouse was already there, and I had stayed behind to close things out and get my job stateside wrapped up. I had overslept and, when I opened the door sleepy-eyed, they asked me if I was the lady going to Egypt and if I had been watching the news.
I made a pot of coffee and we sat for an hour watching the coverage, not knowing what to do with the household goods. In the end, it was packed and I went to Egypt, as planned.
Where were you on 9/11? My answer has changed over the years, almost imperceptibly. As I have seen the toll on my friends and their families, as I have wept as the volleys rang out and Taps floated hauntingly on the breeze at yet another funeral, and as I have watched marriages crumble under the weight of post-traumatic stress disorder, my prior response seems so casual and silly, in light of hindsight being 20/20.
My answer to that question now, my fellow military families?
I was with you. And you were with me.
We just didn’t know it then.
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