As I thought about the people who are serving our country today, I thought back to the time in 1970 when I was a 23 year old Army wife with a 4 month old baby and a husband beginning his tour in Vietnam. We were blessed that he came home safe and sound, and we went on with our lives. From time to time, during the years since, I have thought about the joy and comfort brought to me by people I never met, and whom I have never thanked.
Once a month, when Del's unit came in from the field for a few days, he was able to go to a special tent and wait in line to make a call home compliments of MARS. Volunteer radio operators picked up the radio signal from Vietnam and worked their magic to turn it into a collect call from whereever in the US the signal had been picked up. All I had to do was accept the charges, though some times the call was not made collect. I assume the radio operator paid, but I don't know. (Wikipedia has an informative article about this civilian auxiliary and the good work it continues to do.)
I never knew when the call would come, but since the unit usually came in once a month, I expected it would be around the same week every month, and you could not pry me out of my apartment with a crow bar during that time. In the day when there were no cell phones, internet, Facebook, Skype or other forms of communication so commonplace today, this was the only time a frightened young wife knew for sure her husband was alive and well. People knew not to call me during the day, because that was when the calls came, and I did not want to tie up the phone in the day of no Call Waiting. The apartment got pretty clean that week, but the laundry piled up because I did not want go out to the next building to the laundry room.
Finally, the phone would ring and I would get to talk to Del for three minutes, trying so hard to remember to say "over" so the radio volunteer would know to turn the switch or whatever had to be done to let Del talk. After the call was over, and I had my cry, I called Del's folks and my folks to let them know all was well, and then usually packed up David, the dirty diapers and my quarters for the trek across the parking lot to the laundry room.
There were probably 10 calls in all, and those calls meant all the world to me, but after Del got home, I got caught up in the day to day care of a child with health issues, the realization that "home" did not mean what I thought it would mean when the assignment is a training unit and then reentry to the real world of graduate school and work and all that. I always meant to figure out how to thank the MARS people for their kindness, but I never did. It may be too late to thank some of those who helped me, but perhaps those who followed them will be encouraged to know that they were not forgotten, even though it may have seemed as though they were. And so, a long overdue thank you MARS radio operators, past and present! And a happy Independence Day to you all.
Once a month, when Del's unit came in from the field for a few days, he was able to go to a special tent and wait in line to make a call home compliments of MARS. Volunteer radio operators picked up the radio signal from Vietnam and worked their magic to turn it into a collect call from whereever in the US the signal had been picked up. All I had to do was accept the charges, though some times the call was not made collect. I assume the radio operator paid, but I don't know. (Wikipedia has an informative article about this civilian auxiliary and the good work it continues to do.)
I never knew when the call would come, but since the unit usually came in once a month, I expected it would be around the same week every month, and you could not pry me out of my apartment with a crow bar during that time. In the day when there were no cell phones, internet, Facebook, Skype or other forms of communication so commonplace today, this was the only time a frightened young wife knew for sure her husband was alive and well. People knew not to call me during the day, because that was when the calls came, and I did not want to tie up the phone in the day of no Call Waiting. The apartment got pretty clean that week, but the laundry piled up because I did not want go out to the next building to the laundry room.
Finally, the phone would ring and I would get to talk to Del for three minutes, trying so hard to remember to say "over" so the radio volunteer would know to turn the switch or whatever had to be done to let Del talk. After the call was over, and I had my cry, I called Del's folks and my folks to let them know all was well, and then usually packed up David, the dirty diapers and my quarters for the trek across the parking lot to the laundry room.
There were probably 10 calls in all, and those calls meant all the world to me, but after Del got home, I got caught up in the day to day care of a child with health issues, the realization that "home" did not mean what I thought it would mean when the assignment is a training unit and then reentry to the real world of graduate school and work and all that. I always meant to figure out how to thank the MARS people for their kindness, but I never did. It may be too late to thank some of those who helped me, but perhaps those who followed them will be encouraged to know that they were not forgotten, even though it may have seemed as though they were. And so, a long overdue thank you MARS radio operators, past and present! And a happy Independence Day to you all.
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