WIFE'S REQUEST

 

I was sitting alone in one of those loud, casual steak houses that you find

all over the country. You know the type--a bucket of peanuts on every table,

 shells littering the floor, and a bunch of perky college kids racing around

with long neck beers and sizzling platters.

 

Taking a sip of my iced tea, I studied the crowd over the rim of my glass.

My gaze lingered on a group enjoying their meal. They wore no uniform to

identify their branch of service, but they were definitely "military:" clean

 shaven, cropped haircut, and that "squared away" look that comes with pride.

 

Smiling sadly, I glanced across my table to the empty seat where my husband

usually sat. It had only been a few months since we sat in this very booth,

talking about his upcoming deployment to the Middle East . That was when he

made me promise to get a sitter for the kids, come back to this restaurant

once a month and treat myself to a nice steak. In turn he would treasure the

 thought of me being here, thinking about him until he returned home.

 

I fingered the little flag pin I constantly wear and wondered where he was

at this very moment. Was he safe and warm? Was his cold any better? Were my

letters getting through to him?

 

As I pondered these thoughts, high pitched female voices from the next booth

 broke into my thoughts. "I don't know what Bush is thinking about. Invading

Iraq . You'd think that man would learn from his old man's mistakes. Good

Lord. What an idiot! I can't believe he is even in office. You do know, he

stole the election."

 I cut into my steak and tried to ignore them as they began an endless tirade

 running down our president.

 

I thought about the last night I spent with my husband, as he prepared to

deploy. He had just returned from getting his smallpox and anthrax shots.

The image of him standing in our kitchen packing his gas mask still gives me

 chills.

 

Once again the women's voices invaded my thoughts.

 "It's all about oil, you know. Our soldiers will go in and rape and steal

all the oil they can in the name of 'freedom'. Hmmm! I wonder how many

innocent people they'll kill without giving it a thought. It's pure greed,

you know."

 

My chest tightened as I stared at my wedding ring. I could still see how

handsome my husband looked in his "mess dress" the day he slipped it on my

finger I wondered what he was wearing now. Probably his desert uniform,

affectionately dubbed "coffee stains" with a heavy bulletproof vest over it.

 

"You know, we should just leave Iraq alone. I don't think they are hiding

any weapons. In fact, I bet it's all a big act just to increase the

president's popularity. That's all it is, padding the military budget at the

 expense of our social security and education. And, you know what else? We're

just asking for another 9-11. I can't say when it happens again that we

didn't deserve it."

 

Their words brought to mind the war protesters I had watched gathering

outside our base. Did no one even appreciate the sacrifice of brave men and

women, who leave their homes and family to ensure our freedom? Do they even

know what "freedom" is?

 

I glanced at the table where the young men were sitting, and saw their

courageous faces change. They had stopped eating and looked at each other

dejectedly, listening to the women talking.

 

"Well, I, for one, think it's just deplorable to invade Iraq , and I am

certainly sick of our tax dollars going to train professional baby-killers

we call a military."

 

Professional baby-killers. I thought about what a wonderful father my

husband is, and of how long it would be before he would see our children

again.

 

That's it! Indignation rose up inside me. Normally reserved, pride in my

husband gave me a brassy boldness I never realized I had. Tonight one voice

will answer on behalf of our military, and let her pride in our troops be

known.

 

Sliding out of my booth, I walked around to the adjoining booth and placed

my hands flat on their table. Lowering myself to eye level with them,

smiling I said, "I couldn't help overhearing your conversation. You see, I'm

 sitting here trying to enjoy my dinner alone. And, do you know why? Because

my husband, whom I love with all my heart, is halfway around the world

defending your right to say rotten things about him."

 

"Yes, you have the right to your opinion, and what you think is none of my

business. However, what you say in public is something else, and I will not

sit by and listen to you ridicule MY country, MY president, MY husband, and

all the other fine American men and women who put their lives on the line,

just so you can have the "freedom" to complain. Freedom is an expensive

commodity, ladies. Don't let your actions cheapen it."

 

I must have been louder than I meant to be, because the manager came over to

 inquire if everything was all right "Yes, thank you," I replied.

 Then, turning back to the women, I said, "Enjoy the rest of your meal."

 

As I returned to my booth applause broke out. I was embarrassed for making a

 scene, and went back to my half eaten steak. The women picked up their check

 and scurried away. After finishing my meal, and while waiting for my check,

 the manager returned with a huge apple cobbler ala mode. "Compliments of

those soldiers," he said. He also smiled and said the ladies tried to pay

for my dinner, but that another couple had beaten them to it.

 

When I asked who, the manager said they had already left, but that the

gentleman was a veteran, and wanted to take care of the wife of "one of our

boys."

 With a lump in my throat, I gratefully turned to the soldiers and thanked

them for the cobbler. Grinning from ear to ear, they came over and

surrounded the booth.

 

"We just wanted to thank you, ma'am. You know we can't get into

confrontations with civilians, so we appreciate what you did."

 

As I drove home, for the first time since my husband's deployment, I didn't

feel quite so alone. My heart was filled with the warmth of the other diners

 who stopped by my table, to relate how they, too, were proud of my husband,

and would keep him in their prayers.

 

I knew their flags would fly a little higher the next day. Perhaps they

would look for more tangible ways to show their pride in our country, and

the military that protect her. And maybe, just maybe, the two women who were

 railing against our country would pause for a minute to appreciate all the

freedom America offers, and the price it pays to maintain its freedom.

 

As for me, I have learned that one voice CAN make a difference.

 Maybe the next time protesters gather outside the gates of the base where I

live, I will proudly stand on the opposite side with a sign of my own. It

will simply say, "Thank You!"