End of an Army Era

Today was my husband's last Army drill.

The official retirement date on his orders is the 15th, but today was supposed to be his retirement ceremony. That bit of formal recognition of 21 years of military service was canceled by the current pandemic along with everything else. It was supposed to happen between 11:30 and 12:30 central time, as our handy online calendar notified us this morning.


Instead, Ian is doing conference calls from home. He has a laptop out, and his Army issue phone, and an earpiece in so we don't hear the other soldiers he's working with. They are organizing an annual training event he won't be participating in this time. After today he's done, although under such peculiar circumstances he's not sure how or where to return his government electronics and gear.

I'm not sure how to feel about any of it, to tell you the truth. I won't mind the possibility of another deployment no longer hanging over our heads like the Sword of Damocles. (Although there are loopholes, so that's not ever quite off the table.) I won't miss his leaving for drill every few weeks, or my having to tiptoe around evening conference calls. I won't miss the uncertainty that comes with Army schedules that are in constant flux. I won't miss sewing name tags and insignia onto his uniforms. (They went to Velcro for several years, which was awesome, but apparently now sewing things is back.) I won't miss watching my husband stress about how to manage people who often defy management.

But I do wonder about this new phase of our lives together where Ian's identity doesn't include his unusual kind of work. Where maybe managing an old building and running a violin store will get dull when not punctuated by annual trips to places like South Korea or Poland, or helping run war games on the West Coast.

He says he's ready to be done. I believe him. The past few years have been more frustrating than they have been fulfilling. There are certainly enough projects at home to keep him busy. I hope they are enough to also keep him happy.

I personally have always had an uneasy relationship to the idea of our nation's military. (I came from a family that thought the movie Hair was patriotic.) But I can say unequivocally that I felt reassured that Ian, and people like him, were in it.

My husband is incredibly smart. And ethical. And kind. I may not have liked that he was risking his life in Iraq on two deployments, but I did feel that the others there were lucky to benefit from his skills and his decision making abilities. The stack of coins and certificates and his bronze star all stacked up on our china cabinet are testament that his good work was noticed and appreciated. It is all our loss that the Army won't be utilizing his expertise anymore.

One day, when the plague is in the past, and it's safe for people to travel and hug one another again, we will organize a proper party for Ian's retirement. But today he requested a cake. It's cooling on the counter. I don't feel it's enough, but in these strange times it will have to do.

I'm proud of your years of service, Ian. I love you. Let's box up all the Army stuff and make room for new adventures.

Return from Iraq, 2010