Sisters Rachel (from left), 24, Charity, 19, mother, Lori, and Charity's twin Michelle Witmer share a hug Sunday in New Berlin. Rachel and Michelle returned home early Sunday morning from Iraq. Charity will ship out soon on a tour headed to the Middle East. Their father, John, is in the background.
Christmas comes early for soldiers' family
No matter what you think about how or why our leaders got us into this war, or the way they'll get us out, for that matter, you have to feel for the Witmer family.
Sending a child into war and harm's way is dreadful by any measure. But three soldier-daughters ending up in Iraq at the same time - it's more than any parent should have to bear.
Today is John and Lori Witmer's Christmas. They're celebrating out of necessity since their girls will be gone on Dec. 25. They're celebrating, nonetheless, because however briefly, they have their three daughters home together.
An Early Christmas
Sisters Rachel (from left), 24, Charity, 19, mother, Lori, and Charity's twin Michelle Witmer share a hug Sunday in New Berlin. Rachel and Michelle returned home early Sunday morning from Iraq. Charity will ship out soon on a tour headed to the Middle East. Their father, John, is in the background.
Here, and now, and hug-ably close.
They were first dispatched to Baghdad - near to each other, but in different platoons - last March, where their job has been training Iraqi police, patrolling streets and securing facilities. After 14 days at home, they must return for an uncertain period in this dangerous work.
Their sister and Michelle's twin, Charity, is a combat medic and sergeant who's shipping out by week's end. Her Company B of the Guard's 118th Medical Battalion will get a 1 p.m. send-off ceremony this afternoon at Waukesha West High School, then spend a month training at Fort Drum, N.Y., before heading to the Middle East, most likely Iraq.
First day together
On Sunday, as the three sisters spent their first hours together since Rachel and Michelle shipped out last March, they cried, held hands, wrapped their arms around each other, leaned their heads on each other's and their parents' shoulders. These siblings - and their two college-aged brothers, Tim and Mark - say they are not only family, but best friends.
"We're in the moment, and we are enjoying one another," said their mother, Lori, who leading up to their arrival last week shed her own tears of anxiety and excitement. Since two of her daughters were activated early this year, these have been difficult months as the changing face of the war has changed her family.
The daughters joined the National Guard - in 2000, 2001 and 2002 - each for their own reasons. Future financial aid for education was a big one, as was a search for direction, their parents believe.
"When you think National Guard, don't you think throwing sandbags on swollen riverbanks? That's what I thought," Lori said. Neither parent discouraged their daughters from entering the service, just as they didn't encourage military service for their two sons.
"I had no idea," Lori said, though she believes her daughters always knew active duty was a possibility. "It seemed like a great thing. We were at peace."
Though he confessed to some skepticism about the motives and preparedness for war and its aftermath in Iraq, it matters little now to John, their father.
"We're the boy with the finger in the dike," he said. "Whether we made the hole or not, it's there, and we have to keep our fingers in it because if we let go now, the toll in human tragedy would be way too high."
John knew Sept. 11, 2001, had changed the world, and he worried. Even more so when the role of reserve and national guard units began to change dramatically, and for longer tours midstream.
How will daughters change? What worries them - after their daughter's safety, of course - is how this will change them.
Most difficult, Lori said, is "the loss of innocence of your kids. You just pray that they come back stronger and they don't come back damaged."
After basic training, "each of my girls came out of the military with a maturity and confidence," Lori said. The family is extremely proud of them, their fellow soldiers and the work they do for freedom.
Yet Charity, who has not yet seen what her two sisters have seen, knows from the phone calls, e-mails and now, her precious moments with them this week, that they have changed.
"They've seen and heard and experienced things that are just life-changing," she said. The three had always been so close, and so similar in experience, and "this was such a huge chunk of their lives that I was missing." So far, anyway.
John said his just-returned daughters seem more grown up and mature with a worldly perspective and insight that is bringing him new understanding.
With very little sleep and coming from an emotional Sunday worship service in which Rachel and Michelle, in particular, prayed for their military family back in Iraq, the two tried to explain what they experience every day. It was difficult to convey - from the massive cultural differences that corrode trust to the casualties and destruction of war and the poverty through which so many suffer.
"You become somewhat desensitized," Rachel said, "but you have to in order to get through it." Yet as difficult as the job has been so far, without it, "I never would have realized how privileged I am and how lucky we are to have been born here."
More than than anything, these three women soldiers said the strong support they've felt from family, friends and Americans they don't even know is what keeps them going.
"Support your troops regardless of your political views," Charity pleaded. "We're doing this for everybody. The reason we're doing this is so people can have that freedom to disagree."
As difficult as it is to explain what they have lived through, it was easy for Rachel and Michelle to talk about the meaning of home.
"We got off the plane and couldn't believe how sweet the air smells," Rachel said.
They couldn't wait for a hot bath, a hair salon appointment, a flush toilet and home cooking. And, certainly, every moment with each other.
"I appreciate my family more," Michelle said. "You value every moment. It's a gift."