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Show ." ." . . - - . - , - - , : S y . - . Just a thought It's the waiting that's tough By SCOTT SUMMERILL .-.r- , T.,rfrjrrT vr,M Hnf -t (1 l i I've been asked to write a column about how it feels to be a reservist waiting for a call to active duty. I'm not worried about being activated, but I sometimes feel so numb and confused I'm not sure what I feel, and I don't know how to overcome my anxieties. Strangely, the anxiety doesn't come from wondering if I'll get called (I'm relatively sure that will happen, and I'm almost looking look-ing forward to it), but rather when the call will come. The news shows clips of troops being deployed in the Persian Gulf every night, and stories of reservists being called to active duty to support sup-port operation Desert Shield are intertwined with a host of national news. The scenes depict family farewells as troops board ships and planes for destinations throughout the U.S. and abroad, worried family members left behind and interviews with bosses and fellow employees who will cover the workload in the civilian force until their co-workers return. All are moving visions of a country coun-try standing firmly behind an economic eco-nomic and moral commitment. A stand the U.S. must make. A stand to protect the interests of U.S. and world economies, and a chance to prove our high sounding moral objections to fanatics and terrorists are more than just the ravings of a pompous nation passing gas. But, what does it feel like to be one of the thousands of reservists waiting for a call that will put their lives on hold for six months, or longer? How do those who believe in what is being done, who are committed to serving their country and are perfectly willing to do their part in this crisis function on a day-to-day basis without going nuts wondering when the call will come? It ain't easy! You draw up your last will and testament, take care of your power of attorney, get your bills in order, call everyone you've ever known just to say hi, call banks and credi tors and make arrangements with them so you don't lose everything if you do get called, and he awake at night listening for the phone. At work, you find yourself going through the motions because your mind is somewhere else, or because you don't know how much longer you'll be around. You find your emotions guiding what you do when you should be using your reason. One day drags into the other, and each day lasts an eternity. At night, when exhaustion finally brings on sleep, you find your dreams taking on a bizarre dimension dimen-sion that adds to the confusion and disorientation the waiting has instilled. in-stilled. And everyday, just when you think you have everything taken care of, something else pops up. "Who will take care of the yard work? Who'll feed the fish for six months? Will I still have a job when I get back, or will somebody else slip in and pull it out from under me? Will my girlfriend wait for me? Will I go into combat? Will I die?" Some of the questions are trivial, others are sobering. There are laws to protect certain interests during a mobilization, such as having a job when you return, but that doesn't stop the worrying. Many of my fellow reservists have already been mobilized. The chances of my unit being called are very good, and though there are some who are trying to come up with ways to get out of it, most of my fellow Seabees are ready to go if the call comes through. At each formation since the crisis began, there has been one predominant predomi-nant thought that keeps sweeping through the ranks, and it sums up what I've been trying to say through this entire article. "I'm ready to go," my comrades say, sometime in a whisper, sometime some-time with a roar. "I just wish they'd get on with it. This waiting is driving driv-ing me crazy!" |