My Son's in Afghanistan: The Sheer Joy of R+R!

Mandy, our soldier's mum, gets to see her son back from Afghanistan on R and R

When Ross pulled up in the car, Beenie fled upstairs. He looked so skinny, so tired and so damn beautiful. “Alright mum,” he yelled, “got that tea on yet?” He was straight off the plane and still in his uniform. We just hugged and hugged. “Ok...ok, let go...will you,” he laughed, “ let me at least put this body armour down, it weighs a ton!” I blubbed like a baby.

A little subterfuge had been thrown into the mix.  Ross had said to me on the phone on Sunday that he was coming home a day earlier than expected. But I was not to say anything to Beenie.  Five seconds after his call the pair of us were whooping around the garden dancing and bawling our eyes out!  Well! Come on! She would never have forgiven me.

“Beenie’s upstairs putting away some ....” He didn’t even let me finish the sentence, he just took the stairs three at a time. Same as ever! Tom came home from school and we sent him into the garden where Ross was waiting. A few deft left hooks and they were rolling around like old times. The dog went awol. It all felt so surreal. He chatted on and on about how easy it was out there in Afghanistan and then the photos came out. They belied his every word. Many portrayed the dismal conditions (apart from the one with the beach towel, Speedos and the blow up doll) and it was difficult to recognise him in so many of them. He looks worn and so much older than his 23 years. No matter. He was home. And being just the same.

The complete and utter relief, coupled with the stories of bullets whizzing past his head, diving for cover in poppy fields and the tactical explanations of warfare became all too much. Nothing had prepared me for the total exhaustion that suddenly washed over me. I slept for 15 hours. Missed the party completely! The rest of the family came round. His friends all came round and between them, they drank the *grin* store completely dry! And of course, the very next day, he received the now obligatory welcome home present from the council. A parking ticket!

He’s now gone to the lake for a couple of days with Beenie. But not before beating Tom at golf, which I have to say cost him the price of the new Arsenal shirt!

The weight of emotions that we have all gone through since his deployment is immeasurable. Beliefs are kicked into touch when you count the cost. My thoughts are never far from the families of 2 Para. And to those still, unnamed injured soldiers in the blue on blue.

A friend said something to me this week that stopped me in my tracks. He said I could borrow his ‘train of thought,’ and just believe in what Ross is doing. That I should celebrate with him. Be proud of him. Disregard everything else. And for a moment it felt so good.

“It is 48 degrees. You are in full combat gear and sitting in a tin oven on wheels. Two soldiers have already been sent back to base with heat exhaustion. You can pour water over your body but it makes no difference. Your head is mush. You know you have to get out and the only way is to volunteer to sweep for roadside bombs, at least you might breathe.”

I know that there are British soldiers out there who have had their tour extended twice. They should have been home two months ago. I do not know how they or their families are coping. I do know one thing though. We are going to enjoy every moment of knowing that Ross is home and safe for these next two weeks.

Doubling compensation for the wounded is only doing what should have been done in the first place. This government is not fit to spit on their boots and it really is about time that someone took them to task. Whilst we still have an army.

Comments

[Chuck Unsworth]

Excellent. A mother's tears, eh? Sometimes joy, sometimes pain.

Well done - and you should be very proud of your son.

[William29]

The local newspaper here has a website, there have been calls from many, that the people responsible for desecrating the Bishopstoke war memorial (this week) should be made to serve national service. I could not disagree more, it does a disservice to those serving to suggest that these feral youths should be conscripted.

[mandy]

Feral youths, in the main, have no parents. Worthy of the name. They have nothing. Nothing to gauge, or fear and certainly nothing to gain and I would argue that they need a good hug first, metaphorically, (of course!) and then a real slap of human kindness. Send them to the sandy land....indefinitely......I think we might, occasionally, be amazed...

...the problem for me is the lack of discipline and the authorities that let them away with it in the first place.....

mandy

[Some Soldier's Mom]

Mandy, more than two years ago I wrote:

We mothers joke that we would go over and cook, clean and do laundry for our sons and daughters, but the truth is, we would trade places with them in a heartbeat to keep them safe. To keep them from being hot, cold, hungry, tired, sore and from being shot at or being blown up. I have never had more enthusiastic agreement from military moms than when I say that sending a child to war really is the most counterintuitive thing a parent can ever do. We spend the first 18+ years of their lives making sure they are not too hot or too cold; making sure they are protected from biting bugs and making sure no one is shooting at them. And now we are called upon to wave and smile as they leave for places that are always too hot, too cold, they have bugs the size of small dogs and people are shooting at them all the time. [...]

People -- especially other mothers -- tell me that they can not imagine what that would be like... that they would be a basket case 24 hours a day. Yes, that's it. It's like you live standing on your tippy-toes every day your child is away... and you live on the edge of breathlessness... a mental asthma attack gasping and gasping for strength and sanity and peace of mind.

ENJOY every minute of his leave! Sleep well for you know he is safe now... if only for a time. We will pray for his (and all the soldiers') safe return.