American Wife (10 page)

Anyway baby, I love you more than I could ever express. You are so kind, gentle, loving, and just knockout gorgeous!!! Did I mention sexy? I can't wait to wrap my arms around you. I love you so much, and miss you. Take care of yourself, and give the kids a hug and kiss from me. I love you, sexy.

July 14, 2006

Hey gorgeous, it was so good to be able to talk to you tonight. It really made my day to talk to you and Bubba. He is able to communicate very well. I could understand most of what he was saying. Maybe it's because we're both childlike. Sorry to hurt your feelings with my joke, but that's all it was. I promise. I call you every chance I get. I love being able to talk to you and find out about your day or days.

Things here are about the same. We are constantly working. Most of the time I don't even know what day it is. Which sometimes is good. I'll look at the day and think, wow, the time has flown by. Other times it's like, what, it's only been two hours? The average day is about 115-120 [degrees]. The dust storms are kicking up more. But when the dust storms aren't blowing, sometimes there's a good breeze. I'll sit there in my hide drenched in sweat. I had to make a new hole in my belt. I think it's mostly water weight I'm losing. Sometimes it feels like I'm in a human stew. It's hot enough to boil in your own sweat.

On to more appealing things. I can't wait to get your pictures. You are the sexiest woman ever. I love looking at the pics I already have. I just can't wait to see you in person when I get back. Thank you so much for all the packages and emails you have sent. You are always trying to make me feel loved and comfortable. You have so much to do already, but you still make the time to take care of me. I appreciate it all. You are the best thing that God has ever blessed me with. One day I will make it up to you. I will be there every day and every night. I'll be around so much you may wish I had a trip or deployment to go on. I look forward to those days. I love you and the kids with all my heart. I keep y'a'll in my thoughts and prayers every day. I love you, sexy!!

Bubba was learning to talk. He could say “flute,” “trumpet,” and “violins,” and knew the difference between each. He was climbing over everything, drawing all the time. Angel, though now more comfortable, was still a fussy infant—maybe, I worried, because I couldn't keep her in my arms all day as I had with Bubba.

At the time, I thought Chris didn't mind missing so much of the kids' early stages. He seemed like the kind of person who didn't get sentimental about first steps or first words, first bites of real food, the baby talk and the silly games. But I realized years later that he actually felt the loss of his kids' early days acutely. We were at the hospital, waiting for my sister-in-law to give birth. Chris's niece had missed her nap and hadn't eaten; inevitably, she got cranky. She ended up throwing a mini-tantrum, which only her grandmother could calm.

Chris turned to me and leaned over, his hand on my knee and a serious look on his face.

“You know, babe,” he said, “I wish I'd been here more when our kids were this age.”

To say that, in a moment when a child was throwing a fit—I think that's a depth of incredible love. It made me sad, realizing that he had missed those moments, good and bad, that end up being so much a part of our experiences as a parent.

“You were there,” I told him. “You were there. We felt you every day, whether we talked to you or just about you, you were always there.”

MARC AND RYAN

As the deployment continued, Chris felt more and more confident. He was doing what he loved, and he was doing it well. Just as important, the Americans were succeeding in Ramadi. It wasn't exactly a paradise, but the level of violence declined dramatically while the SEALs and other Americans were there. The aggressive policy was working, or at least so it seemed.

Because of his experience, Chris had more responsibility in the missions. Where once he had acted as a navigator, assisting the driver, now he would help plan and lead during the operation. He was very close to all of the men who worked with him, but especially those who acted as security for him while he was “on the gun,” which was the slang term snipers used for working.

Often SEAL snipers would work in pairs during long missions, alternating—while one was manning the rifle, the other might be sleeping. But this was just a general pattern. Many times, both men would be looking for attackers. In some cases only one sniper would be with two or three other men. Typically in Chris's platoon, these men would include a machine gunner. Once the sniper's position became known, he usually became the focus of the enemy attack, and having a gun with extra firepower was welcome.

Among Chris's closest friends in the platoon were Marc Lee and Ryan Job. Both were hardworking SEALs, but they were different from each other in many ways. Marc was an athletic, all-American type, good enough at soccer to be offered a tryout in the professional league. He had a thoughtful, gentle side to him—he was a quiet intellectual, which was not as rare among SEALs as might commonly be believed.

Ryan, on the other hand, was as close to class clown as a SEAL could possibly be. While he wasn't out of shape—no one could get through BUD/S in poor physical condition—he was hardly the most imposing physical specimen, and when he first joined the platoon, all of the other SEALs, including Chris, made fun of him because of his weight.

But Ryan was a SEAL through and through. He pushed himself every bit as hard as the other members of the Team, and was absolutely dependable in a firefight. He also cracked everyone up with jokes constantly. Like Marc but in a different way, he was the kind of guy you just couldn't help but like.

In early August of 2006, the platoon went out on a mission that, though dangerous, by now was almost routine. While men patrolled on the nearby streets, Chris provided overwatch from a rooftop at an intersection. The mission went very smoothly at first; they got on the roof with no trouble. Chris set up and began watching for terrorists attacking his men.

At some point, he and the other two men on the roof came under fire. They ducked quickly. It was a momentary attack, a burst of fire so brief that Chris thought it was nothing. He got up and looked across the roof.

“Hey, Biggles,” he said, using Ryan's nickname. “Get up, dude!”

Ryan didn't get up. It took another second or so to realize that it wasn't one of Ryan's classic jokes. Blood was gushing out of his head.

They called for an evacuation. Chris started to carry Ryan down the stairs. Ryan objected—he didn't want to take anyone else out of the fight. He struggled down the steps, but by the time he was packed into a vehicle, Chris was sure he was dead; no one could survive those wounds.

The platoon went back to their base, reeling. Ryan was the first serious casualty they'd had, and one of the first SEALs injured in all of the Iraq deployments.

A short time later, someone came in with intelligence about the mujahedeen who'd targeted the roof. They'd been located in a house a short distance away.

The platoon decided to get some revenge. They suited up, got into their vehicles, and drove to the neighborhood where the house was. Chris assembled a team to do overwatch from a nearby building. They took the house quickly and began running up the stairs.

Marc Lee, one of their best assaulters—those are the men who lead the charge into a building—got about halfway up the stairs when he saw something through an open window. He stopped to warn the others. Before he could say anything, he was shot.

The men immediately began returning fire. As soon as things calmed a little, Chris and another man picked up Marc and began carrying him down the stairs. Once again, the platoon retreated to base.

Chris and the others learned a short time later that Ryan, though severely wounded, would survive; Marc Lee had passed away.

Chris called me shortly after hearing the news. His voice was far different than anything I'd heard before. It was pure pain.

He cried as he spoke. I don't know that I'd ever seen or heard him cry before. Certainly not like that.

I immediately started to cry myself, but I muffled it as best I could. I didn't want him to hear my sobs, because I knew they would add to his distress and despair.

Chris didn't give me many details—he never wanted to worry me—but honestly, how much more did I need to know? One friend was dead, another badly hurt, and he blamed himself, since he'd been in charge in both instances.

Tears rolled down my face as I listened. I said very little until he was done.

Never have I been aware of distance so acutely as when he finished. I wanted to comfort him, to hold him, cradle him, kiss him, cry with him. But that was impossible. The best I could do was simply tell him I loved him.

The words never felt so empty.

He asked if I could call and tell his parents what had happened. He wanted them to know, but was so upset he didn't feel like talking. I told him I would.

When he ended the call, I immediately called Marc's mom, Debbie, telling her I'd heard the awful news and offering to do whatever I could for her. It was hard to get the words out. She was brave, but the pain in her voice was overwhelming.

I called Chris's parents and got his mom.

“Chris is fine,” I told her. I took a breath. “But two of his close friends were shot. One is dead and the other may not make it.”

The rest of the conversation blurred.

There is such a feeling of impotence in grief. You watch someone else in pain and you think, I have to take that pain away. I have to do something to help that person! I love them. I don't want them to hurt.

And yet nothing you can do, let alone say, can lessen the pain.

CONTINUING ON

The platoon rested for a few days, then went back to work. Somehow, they managed to carry on. Life didn't return to normal, but they did manage to continue their missions.

August 18, 2006

I know it's about time I got these [pictures of Chris with some of the members of the platoon, and an Army unit he was training] out to you. Sorry it took me so long. After all you do for me to make me feel good and comfortable, the least I can do is get a few pics to you. And you are right about deserving them. I know you were kind of joking, but you do deserve them and more. For right now, this is what I have, but you will be getting more.

It was so nice to talk to you tonight. I always wind up in a better mood after talking to you. Somehow you always manage to brighten my life even when in a hell hole like this. You are the greatest woman ever, and I will never understand how I got so lucky to have been blessed with you. I appreciate all you do. You are the strongest person I know, and I admire you, and respect you. I am always extremely proud of you. I know with all that has happened with Marc and Biggles, you have gone out of your way to try to make everyone feel better. Even though I know that is your worst nightmare. I don't know many people who could be there, and put themselves through the pain just to make someone you don't even know more comfortable. You are an angel sent by God. Now you have given me two more angels. Remember Satan was once an angel of God, so Bubba is an angel, but just which side is sometimes debatable. Just joking. I know he can be very trying sometimes, and you have kept your cool way better than I ever could have. Our kids are so lucky to have you as their mother. So am I.

I cannot wait to get back into your arms. Talking about it tonight felt so good. Knowing that this whole thing is coming to an end. I dream about the day I step off that plane to see you. Hope you have no plans for the rest of your life, because you're gonna be a little busy. I miss you so much!!!

I loved talking to Bubba tonight. I love hearing him tell me he loves me, but I also don't want to force him to say it. I know inside that he loves me. He just gets a little busy with everything going on around him. I can't wait to play with him and chase him around the house. I was also thinking, all this time I've been wanting to talk to Bubba because he can talk back to me, but I want Angel to hear my voice, too. I want her to be a little familiar with me if at least my voice.

Anyway, I love you with all my heart, and can't wait to see you again. I am gonna smother you like crazy. You'll be begging me to go on another deployment so you can get a little break. Too bad. You're stuck with me now. I love you, sexy!

XOXOXOXOXOXOOX

The danger Chris and the others were in had become less theoretical for me after Marc and Ryan went down. Yet I still tried to keep the idea of it at bay. I didn't want to worry. And, I told myself, the last thing Chris needed from me was fear. If he knew I was worrying, he might worry, too. The distraction might be enough to get him killed.

Our conversations circled around the reality of where he was. We talked about things at home because they were safe; no one was in danger of getting shot or blown up.

I knew there were bullets flying all around him. I just became very good at not focusing on that part of the picture when we spoke.

Later—much, much later—Chris told me a story about being confronted by two insurgents while he and a friend were in a back alley relieving themselves.

There was a moment of stunned silence—he guessed the pair might have been about to do the same thing—then everyone grabbed for their guns.

Chris pulled his pistol from his drop holster first; he shot the others dead.

“I'm damn glad you're a quick draw,” I told him.

A postscript on Ryan: Ryan did recover, but he was left permanently blind. His girlfriend Kelly stayed by his side through his recovery, and they soon married.

I'm happy to say that we all became good friends. Ryan had an indomitable spirit that infected everyone he met. He used to say that he suspected God had chosen him to be wounded, rather than someone else, because He knew he could bear it. If so, it was an excellent choice, for Ryan inspired many others to deal with their own handicaps as he dealt with his. He went hunting with the help of friends and special devices. His wound inspired the logo Chris would later use for his company; it was a way for Chris to continue honoring him.