War Is a Family Affair

By Jessica Lyons, Monterey County Weekly. Posted March 3, 2003.

My little brother Nathan was deployed on Feb. 15 -- the day millions of people gathered in cities across the globe to protest military action in Iraq; the day before my mother's birthday.

Nath used to be a hyper little kid who always wore shorts, cowboy boots and a buzz cut. He danced the part of a duck in a ballet recital when he was 4. He was a punk in high school who played the drums in a band and wore his hair bleached and long, over his ears, like Kurt Cobain. The he became an English major -- he graduated from the University of Oregon last year. Somewhere during his college years, he lost his nose ring and found George W. Bush.

Now he's engaged to his college sweetheart, Lindsey Wolcott. His hair's shaved off again. And he's a member of the 1st Battalion, 162nd Infantry of the Oregon Army National Guard.

My brother's 22. To me, he's still a kid. He's not old enough to fight a war. The President hasn't officially called for military action against Iraq yet, but I think we're already at war. My family's countdown to war started on a Friday night in February, a week before Valentine's Day. My brother got a call on his cell phone.

"We went out to dinner at Applebee's," remembers Lindsey, Nath's fiancée. "Stupid guy told me at Applebee's. He said, 'Oh my gosh, I have some bad news,' and I just started crying in the middle of Applebee's in front of everyone."

I asked her if she knew what the news would be. "Yeah. I could tell."

I found out the following Sunday. I was sitting on the couch, wearing flannel PJs, drinking my morning coffee. I checked my email and found an automated note from The Oregonian -- a message from my dad -- telling me to check out a page on OregonLive.com. My dad's weird. He's a lawyer and a brilliant orator with a funny, dry sense of humor. But sometimes, with personal stuff, electronic communication comes easier to him than talk.

I opened the email. It was a canned message. "Dear Jessica: Dad thought you might be interested in this item from OregonLive.com." I clicked on the link before I read my dad's attached note. "In the largest call-up of an Oregon National Guard unit since World War II, about 670 soldiers of the 162nd Infantry Regiment were told to mobilize Friday," the story began.

I clicked back to the email and read the part that's supposed to make it sound like a personal note. "Dad says: Still don't know if Nate's among these. He'll find out tomorrow."

I burst into slobbery tears. At that moment, I saw faces in the front window. My friends Lou and Rachelle walked in. They were laughing and smiling. We had planned to spend the day at the beach. Their faces changed when they saw me looking like I'd just found out that my brother was going to war.

Around 5 p.m. my dad called and said that Nathan wasn't going anywhere yet. "But this is the military and that can change any minute," he said. Dad was right.

At 11:30 Sunday night the phone rang. My husband Tom and I were sleeping. I hate late-night phone calls. Except for an occasional drunk call from friends or siblings, they're never about anything good. Tom got out of bed and walked to the kitchen to answer the phone, because I'm blind without my glasses and because we both knew why the phone was ringing.

It was my dad. He sounded oddly cheerful. My mom was asleep. My dad said Nathan would ship out on Thursday. Of the 162nd Infantry, only 35 soldiers of the 2nd Battalion would be deployed. Nate was one of the lucky 35. The other 700 soldiers, he said, were "undeployable."

I didn't sleep that night. I tried to think about Nath wearing a gas mask and a chemical suit, gunning down Iraqis, but the dissonance was too great. He was so homesick for Lindsey and our family after he left for basic training last summer. And that was just South Carolina. Nath's old room in my parent's house is still decorated with Pearl Jam and Nirvana posters. His collection of Pound Puppies sit on a shelf. An old Winnie the Pooh lamp stands near his bed. A few days before he found out that he would be deployed, I asked him if he felt afraid. He said no, and joked, "I'll bring you back an ear. I'll bring you back Saddam's ear."

He's trying to be macho and tough. That's not Nath.

At first I felt terrified, but the fear paralyzed me. So I got angry. Somehow that seemed more productive. I yelled into my pillow, cursing George W. Bush. Last summer, while Jenna Bush interned at a Hollywood entertainment agency and hung out with Brad Pitt and Jennifer Aniston, my brother learned hand-to-hand combat. I know he bought the ticket. No one forced him to enlist. We all told him that his timing was tragic. But even today he says if he could go back to last March, he'd still sign up.

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