Diane Stark (McConnell) Sanfilippo
Chapter 73 Bloody September
Never before had I realized how much my life revolved around
Billy - that is Billy coming home from work to a hot meal,
happy children, a loving wife, and peace in his castle.
For me he was the heart of our family, the provider, the
lover, the caring father who maintained discipline, and
the knight on his white horse who reigned supreme, at least
in our small home. If anyone had asked me what part of the
day, I enjoyed the most, it was the moment Billy walked in
the door, as the entire house lit up, and this sole event
justified my life on this earth. I was here to serve him,
to love him, to give birth to his handsome children, to
feed him, to keep his uniforms clean and ironed, and to
make sure that our home was a peaceful refuge where he
could unwind from his extra-long days. When he was in the
field, I felt empty, as did the house in spite of a
rambunctious 3-year-old, a crawling infant, and a
German Shepherd puppy! The days were long, but the nights
were even longer as I tried to keep myself busy until my
eyes would no longer stay open, and while that was not
difficult I would find myself wondering what I would do
first. Wednesday night I caught up on my correspondence,
Thursday night I went through the children’s clothes,
packing away the outgrown shirts, pants and tiny delicate
dresses that our now crawling, cup-trained daughter could
no longer wear. Naturally, she had changed the most and
was just beginning to grow soft blond curls at the nape
of her neck, although it had taken her much longer than
it did her brother. This time I had no worry that Billy
would rush to the barbershop since he had waited as
patiently as I had for our daughter to grow some hair!
He was delighted that now I could put a small bow in her
hair and he would twist the soft curls around his little
finger as if that might make them grow. She was all girl,
with dainty features and tiny bones beneath the rolls of
baby fat, and she was far more mobile at six months than
her brother had been. Billy just knew she would be walking
by Christmas since already she was pulling herself up
using the couch to hold onto, the sliding glass doors, or
a chair. She was our delight in her feminine uniqueness
and Michael was our joy in his all-American boy appearance
and demeanor.
Never shy, our children never met a stranger and would
willingly go to or with anyone who offered, although
Michael firmly remained my boy while, like her mother, my
little girl preferred the men! In this day and time, it
might be a cause for worry, but in the mid-sixties, the
world was mostly a safe place for children to live in
and predators, while not unheard of, were few. I had
thought when I was forced to take over the role as
disciplinarian, since Billy’s nights at home were so
sporadic, that Michael would turn to his father for
comfort and solace as he had once turned to me, but
instead he seemed to accept my discipline without the
shrieks of terror that foretold a correction from his
father. It was not a chore I gladly accepted, but
necessary. Michael had to learn to mind me and not take
advantage of my love for him, and I could not let him
run rampant for an entire year while Billy was away.
Also, with the discipline, I had to take over the
checkbook and pay the bills since Billy was usually in
such a rush that he left so much information off of the
check stub I had no idea how much, or where many of the
checks had gone. This also I found distasteful, but I
knew Billy needed to come home to peace, and not
confronted with the necessity of dealing with his son’s
mischief of the day or the stack of bills on top of the
desk. In fact, I kept the bills in one of the top
drawers so he would not even have to see or think about
them since I knew it was stressful for him to have to
rob Peter to pay Paul, but I was good at it, so it
became my jurisdiction.
These long days became longer nights and the Hawaiian
music was about to drive me out of my mind, as in vain I
searched the airwaves for any other kind of music –
country, rock – anything that did not talk about pearly
shells or little grass huts! Oh, I loved living in Hawaii
and especially so close to the beach, but after awhile
the same music, with rhythms that seldom varied, just
became enough. Friday night I set aside to iron Billy’s
uniforms and just that evening, after the mailman came,
I remembered to put a letter in the mailbox that I had
written to my mother on Wednesday.
After the children were finally asleep, both downstairs
in their bedrooms so I could hear them if they awoke, I
took out the ironing board, iron, the damp fatigues that
I had sprinkled and rolled in a towel then put in the
refrigerator to keep them from drying out. I then turned
on the radio hoping to find some music that did not talk
about palm trees and I finally found a country station
that usually had unreliable reception. I was pleased to
find it coming in loud and clear this bright starry night.
There was not a cloud in the sky and if I cut the lights
out, our living room became an observatory, as it seemed
as if the stars came down out of the heavens just for my
benefit. However, I did not have time to watch stars this
night since I knew Billy would be home sometime in the
early morning and he did not have a fresh uniform for
Monday. I definitely did not want to spend my weekend
ironing or doing anything else that I could do when he
was gone. I just wanted to be with him, walking on the
beach, snorkeling, sitting on the rocks watching the
waves break when they hit the coral reefs, and with the
moon and the stars shining down upon us, make love on the
soft carpet. I was looking forward to a restful weekend
with my husband by my side, and planned hamburgers on the
grill for Saturday night, then on Sunday his favorite
supper. While he was in Ranger School I found after Billy
was gone for days at a time, I could not keep my hands
off him when he finally came home, and I planned for this
weekend to be available to do whatever he wanted to do. I
knew he would be tired and would probably sleep most of
the day on Saturday and I hoped the children would both
nap and I could crawl into the bed beside him and just
watch him sleep. I did not like to be downstairs when he
was upstairs. Even the sound of his soft snore was
comforting.
While I ironed, I thought about the things Billy and I
discussed Tuesday night, although it seemed as if it had
been more than three nights since we had made love on the
carpet while time slowed to a crawl without Billy’s jovial
deep voice filling our home with laughter and love, and
his presence.
A sense of peace came over me as I rolled over in my mind
what I would do when the 25th finally deployed to Vietnam,
and whether I could stay here without Billy. He would be
receiving combat pay and he said he would only need about
$50 a month to keep him, if that much, and he would send
the rest of his check to The Bank of San Antonio where we
had banked since the day he was commissioned. This bank was
the ‘father’ of the present day U.S.A.A. Bank, and catered
to its strictly military officer clientele and never
bounced a check, understanding that the family might be in
the middle of a transfer. Certainly, I should have enough
money to stay here, and certainly, I would be as close to
Billy as I could possibly be, and certainly it would be
easier and less expensive for him to come here on R&R than
it would be for me to go back to Atlanta and then meet him
here. Yes, I decided, I would stay right here, on this tiny
island with year-round sunny weather and balmy breezes, at
least until he received orders for stateside. We both thought
he would make Captain towards the end of his tour in Vietnam
and his next duty would surely be the Officer’s Advanced
Course at Ft. Benning, so in a sense we would be ‘going
home,’ although our home of record was still Dahlonega.
My final decision made about where I would stay when he left,
I continued to iron while the Grand Ol’ Opry crowd sang their
songs of lost love and twanged their guitars. It was slow going
ironing fatigues with their multitude of pockets, and the fact
that the fabric was heavy and the starch so thick it took
several passes with the iron to dry it, but I had two uniforms
to complete before Billy came home. It was early Saturday
morning around 3:00 a.m. when I finally put the ironing board
away and left the iron to cool on the back of the stove where
Michael could not reach it. I felt proud of my work as I
looked at the two clean and freshly ironed uniforms and knew
even the laundry on post was not as meticulous as I was with
them, and there was not one crease that should not be there,
and that every crease that should be there was absolutely
perfect. This was by no means my favorite chore, but it left
me with a sense of satisfaction and accomplishment, and after
all, I was doing this for my Billy.
After a quick shower I slipped into my nightgown, picked up
our sleeping daughter and went upstairs to bed knowing it would
not be long before Michael woke up to find me no longer ironing
and would come upstairs and slip quietly into my side of the bed.
My head barely hit the pillow before I was asleep, and only the
sound of the little sports car coming up Ke-Nui Road woke me.
Excitement filled my heart with longing as I slipped out of bed,
covered Michael and pulled a fresh muumuu on over my head,
combed my hair and brushed my teeth. I wanted to be downstairs to
greet my weary warrior and to get him something to eat since I knew
he was starving for some ‘real’ food!
“Give me a kiss sugar!” Billy roared as he came in the door and saw
me standing at the foot of the stairs waiting for him. But I was not
about to give him a kiss with the black camouflage paint smeared
all over his face making him look like Al Jolson in black face!
Besides, he smelled something like a wild buffalo after three days
in the field with no bath!
“Just as soon as you take a shower,” I replied, “then I will give
you more than a kiss.”
“Oh Darling, I’m afraid not, as much as I would like to,” Billy said.
Then he sadly added, “I have to get back up to Schofield and take a
rifle range this morning. There is no one else to do it, and
headquarters called me out of the field for that reason alone. I am
so sorry.”
“You mean that you might not even be home yet if you had not been
called for the rifle range?” I asked, my voice sounding a bit
cantankerous and offering a challenge.
However, Billy did not want to argue. He was tired – more tired
than I knew. He just wanted to shower, shave, eat some roast beef
sandwiches, and get on with the job that he had to do so that he
could get home and stay for a while.
“Darling,” he said, “I know that you are disappointed, no more so
than I am, but I promise I will make it up to you tonight and Sunday.”
With this comment, he stepped into the hot shower and I went upstairs
to find fresh underwear and socks and retrieved one of the newly
ironed uniforms from the closet in Margie’s room. I put the clean
clothing and two fresh towels in the bathroom, picking up his soiled
fatigues and underwear with one hand, while holding my nose with the
other. I was surprised to find his shirt soaked with perspiration
although it was not hot outside at all; in fact, it was most pleasant
with the hint of a rainstorm brewing.
While Billy shaved, I cut up the roast beef for his sandwiches and
wondered why I was doing this since usually I let him fend for himself,
but I think I was just grabbing all the time I could with him before he
left again. Just as I finished his sandwiches, I heard Margie’s
awakening cry, so reluctantly I went upstairs to nurse her. Finishing
as quickly as I could, I leaned over the balcony to talk to Billy who,
having gulped down his sandwiches, was rummaging through the desk
drawers looking for something.
“What time will you be home?” I asked, not too kindly, and he replied
it would be four or five in the afternoon, that it was an all day range.
“I have finally accepted that you love the Army more than me,” I
continued bitterly, “it makes my life easier.” Instead of picking up my
thrown gauntlet, Billy just smiled up at me.
“My darling wife, you are so wrong, I love you more than life itself,”
he said, as he held up his left hand and slipped his wedding band onto
his ring finger. He never wore his ring in the field since not only
was it reflective, but he did not want to lose it either. So, while I
fussed, it was the ring that he was looking for.
My heart melted, like it always did when he knew just the right words to
say, or the right things to do to make me happy, and I ran down the
stairs and into his arms. We kissed and kissed and I told him I was
sorry I had tried to start a fight, but I was just so disappointed we
would not have the entire weekend together, and worried he was overly
tired. He told me he had not had any sleep since Tuesday night, the
last night he had been home, and he had taken three platoons, not just
his, through the training tests since there was no one else to do it.
Although he knew then that two of his platoons had finished first in
the trials, he only told me that he thought all of them had done very
well.
“They really worked hard for me,” he said beaming, “and they never
questioned any order that I gave them. I am proud of them and know
that I could not ask any better men to fight by my side in Vietnam.
Even the old timers did not give me a hard time, so they must be
beginning to respect my leadership in spite of my youthful
appearance.” This said with tongue in cheek, but he was so right,
he looked even younger than his twenty-four years, although he was
well muscled and filled out from all the training. “You don’t have to
worry with those guys taking care of me,” he added. “They are the
best.”
“Billy, how would you like to make love on the beach tonight?” I asked
wanting him to have something special to look forward to when he came
home that night.
“Darling, do you mean it? After all the months I have been trying to get
you to make love on the beach, do you really mean that you will do it
tonight?”
“Yes,” I said, “and I love you more than life itself too.”
Then a thought came into my mind, and I asked him if he would let me
drive him to work, he looked so tired, and I could put the children in
the car and drive him up to Schofield and then come back to get him
when he called from the company later that afternoon. He would not hear
of it, and I even asked him if he wanted to take my car since it looked
like rain, but he laughed and told me that his car did have a top on it.
As we talked, I continued to fondle him where he was the most sensitive,
and he kept his hands on my breasts where my nipples had hardened with
anticipation. My heart beating as swiftly as hummingbird wings, I knew
he was becoming worked up too since his appendage became hard and stiff
and he commented that he hoped it would go away before he got to the
range!
“That’s all I need, to report to work with a hard on! I would never
live that one down,” he chuckled with that devilish look in his eyes I
had always found so appealing. While I begged him to hold me and never
let me go, finally with one long last kiss, he turned and opened the
door, winked, told me he loved me more than anything else in the world,
and he was gone. The little white car roared up the narrow road and
then out onto Kam Highway leaving puffs of smoke in its wake while I
watched until it was out of sight.
If I could have just held onto that last moment, and if I could have
just insisted that I drive him to work, so many ‘ifs’ would forever
haunt me. However, if I could have stopped the clock on one moment in
time, it would have been that morning as we kissed and fondled each
other longingly. I could stay in that time and in that place forever,
and never be bored.
With both children still asleep, I went back upstairs to try to get a
few minutes more, but left on my muumuu since I knew it would not be
long before Michael would be awake and I would need to get breakfast
for him and for the baby. I was right, and within an hour, all three
of us came downstairs, just as the phone rang. It was the sergeant in
charge of the firing range and he wanted to know if “Lt. McConnell”
had left home yet? I knew there had been plenty of time for him to
reach Schofield, so I assured the sergeant he could be at the company
barracks and to call over there since he had left here around 5:00 a.m.
No sooner had I put down the phone than I heard Trish calling me from
next door. Standing at her window, obviously distraught and in tears,
she told me Elizabeth had taken several Contac capsules and fed some
to Trouble, their shepherd puppy. Of course, I offered to take her up
to the clinic at Schofield since Rusty had their car, but she refused
my offer saying Rusty was on his way home. At the time, I thought it
strange that she was crying and so very upset since Elizabeth and
Michael had been sharing forbidden concoctions for some time now, and
we just gave them ipecac and treated it like a joke. However, this
morning Trish was inconsolable and I asked her if she wanted me to
come over while she waited for Rusty. Refusing my offer, she assured
me she would be all right, although I remained puzzled and concerned
about her obvious distress. Little did I know that her tears were for
us, and that she already knew the news I was about to receive, and
had been called and forewarned not to allow the police to get to me
first.
Just as I finished pouring Michael’s juice and fixing his cereal, I
heard a car drive up and pull into our driveway. At first, I
thought perhaps Rusty had just driven past his own drive in his rush
to get home. Soon I heard a soft knock on the side door and decided
that perhaps Trish needed me after all, but when I opened the door,
I was startled to find Chuck standing there with two other officers,
Colonels, who I did not recognize. Trish and Rusty were standing
right behind them and I knew they had not come for morning coffee.
Somehow, from the expression on Chuck’s face, which was one of
despair and shock, I just knew. I barely remember his words as he
took my hands and with tears running down his face, said, “Mrs.
McConnell, Diane, I regret to inform you” – and then I passed out.
Michael has only a very few memories of his father, but he does
remember the “bad men in light tan uniforms who made Mommy fall
down.”
>From this point on I will have to rely on what others have told me
since my memory froze at that moment and I remember very little,
although what I do remember is forever embedded into my mind. I
felt as if I had died and was out of my body, but this was probably
due to the powerful sedative that the doctor, one of the officers
with Chuck – the other was a chaplain -, gave me. Amazed, I
watched as this person, who was supposedly me, say and do all the
right things. To say I was in a state of shock was underestimating
the grief that had torn my heart right in half and I knew neither
time nor words would ever make it complete again. The pain was as
if someone had reached into my chest and ripped my heart from my
body and I physically felt this pain and would for months, then
years later as I write this book.
Time became irrelevant, but I was not ready to accept that Billy
was never coming home again.
As I later learned, other neighbors took Elizabeth to the clinic,
while Trish and Rusty were right there by my side as I sobbed in
Trish’s arms. Soon the house filled with friends and other members
of the 1/14th and almost immediately, Colonel Proctor’s wife was
running the show, and quite competently, as if she had done this
before and soon would be doing it again, and again, and again. The
police arrived not long afterwards and insisted on talking to me,
but Mrs. Proctor held them hostage at the side door and said I
could not be disturbed. They insisted and finally she allowed them
“just five minutes!” There was little doubt in anyone’s mind that
she would be keeping a close eye on the police, the clock, and me.
>From the initial investigation, Billy had presumably fallen asleep
behind the wheel – deduced by the lack of skid marks and his 72
hours without sleep, and his tiny car hit a tree just the other
side of Haleiwa on the way to Schofield. I knew then he had to
have been on the back road since there were only pineapple fields
on the main road and no trees. I wondered why he had taken that
road, since at the time I had forgotten his fondness for this
route with its curves and slight hills, unlike the main road
that was straight and wide. In that tiny car with the rear
engine, he had no protection in front of him, and he never
regained consciousness but died in the ambulance on the way to
Schofield.
The police asked what he had to drink that morning and I answered
with the truth, “Ice water since we didn’t have enough money to
buy cokes.”
At that point, Mrs. Proctor almost bodily threw them out of the
house and they never returned, perhaps realizing it would be
useless with her guarding the door. It seemed all-important to
me to learn if it had been raining since there had been clouds
and a few rain puddles earlier that morning, or perhaps I
mistook the early hour dawn for cloudiness. I did not want to
think of my Billy lying mortally injured in the rain, although
I knew that the top had been up on his car when he left home.
Chuck vowed to find out anything and everything that I might
want to know and I trusted him with this task. It turned out to
be far more difficult than either of us would have thought
possible, and the reasons still bother me today.
At one point, my daughter cried in hunger and with Linda and
Trish following, I took her into one of the downstairs bedrooms,
only to find out I had no milk – my breasts, which had been
full of milk just hours ago, were now completely dry! Again, I
began to cry, or had I ever stopped crying, but now I had failed
my baby too. Margie would not take milk in a bottle, so Trish
put apple juice in her bottle, put Margie in her high chair,
and gave her milk in her sipper cup since she and I had talked
about this rather premature phenomenon. At some point, I began
pacing the floor, saying over, and over, “He’s not dead, I know
he’s not dead, he’s just hurt, I want to see him.”
However, others knew the truth that my heart and my mind could
not accept, and Billy’s body already was in Honolulu at the
state morgue for an autopsy since his was an un-witnessed
accident. State law mandated the autopsy, which I later learned,
and had I known this fact it would have relieved me of some of
my burden since Billy had been so explicit when his mother
died that if anything ever happened to him, I should demand an
autopsy. His reasoning had been if he was not already dead, an
autopsy would kill him, and it would be impossible to live
through one. I could not have rested either until I knew why
and how my precious Billy had died, although it would be weeks
before I received the complete report. In the meantime, I knew
arrangements would have to be made and not knowing where to turn
or what to do, I decided to call my aunt and uncle in Atlanta,
although not much could be done until Monday morning.
It was Saturday afternoon by now in Atlanta and if I had been in
my right mind I would have known they had have already left for
the Georgia Tech football game since my uncle always bought
season tickets. The only one at home when I called was my
cousin Cathy, but I had to tell her why that I urgently needed
to talk to her mother so Helen would call me back just as soon
as she arrived home. Not able to think of soothing words, I
blurted out that Billy was dead, and for a long time afterwards,
my cousin would not answer the phone when she was home alone.
This was long before cell phones and beepers, and she simply
had to wait with her own tears until her parents came home to
relay my message, and this had to be hard for her too. Everyone
loved Billy, just as he loved everyone, and he had been adopted
into my aunt’s family, and frankly, I had nowhere else to go. I
knew that my aunt would tell my parents and my grandmother, and
I simply could not call everyone. I did not know if I could bear
to hear myself say those words again, but I knew that I had to
make one more important call, and perhaps this would be the most
difficult of all, considering the circumstances.
Chuck asked me if I wanted to tell Mr. McConnell or if I wanted
him to do it, but I knew, it was my duty as Billy’s wife to do
so, although I would give the phone to Chuck for the details. I
knew Gene would be devastated and all I wanted to do was shout
in the phone, “Damn you! You did not send him that medicine like
he asked so it’s all your fault!” Some part of me took over that
was kinder and gentler than the part of me who was thinking if
Billy had those pills, he would still be alive. When asked for
Gene’s phone number, I went to the desk drawer to find the
address book and found the two envelopes sitting there stamped
and ready to mail to insurance companies, as if Billy knew that
his time had come, only not quite this soon, or in this way.
While the Chaplain dialed the number, I tried to compose
myself and to think how I would want to hear this horrible
news if I had to be told on the telephone. As soon as Gene
came to the phone, I said slowly and distinctly, in a clear
but tear choked voice, “Mr. McConnell, this is Diane. I am so
sorry to have to tell you this, but Billy died in an automobile
accident early this morning and…”, at this point I was about
to break down again and my voice began to quiver, so thankfully
Chuck took the receiver and tried to give him as many details
as we knew, so far. I did hear him emphasize that he had
apparently fallen asleep behind the wheel, and I was so glad
that he had said those words that I could not bear to say. Not
to this man who had refused to send medication so that Billy
would not fall asleep when he had to go without sleep for
days, and this same man who had told him to go see a doctor!
He knew that Billy would not see a doctor because if he did
have narcolepsy his Army career was over. We both had known
that is what Gene wanted since it was the only way he thought
that he could get us back to Griffin, but I doubt if he ever
thought that his adored oldest son would be coming back in a
coffin. Only I knew that if anything ever did happen that Billy
could no longer stay in the Army, we would go back to Dahlonega,
a friendlier town to raise our family, and he would work for
Mr. Moore, never his father!
Now that I have had time to think about it, Billy was too young
to have narcolepsy, and his own father had been in his late
40’s when diagnosed, but no man, even a young man, can go 72
hours without sleep, and then drive into work for another 8
hours without disastrous results. It actually took this tragedy
before the Army figured this out too! While Chuck talked to
Gene, I started to turn the blame inward and said to someone,
although no one in particular, that I had offered to drive him
to work, that I knew he was tired, but he had refused to let
me wake the children. Now I was wishing that I had lain down
behind his tires and refused to let him drive, but it was too
late now for these last thoughts of what I would, should, or
could have done.
Somewhere I lost all track of time since it had no relevancy
for me anymore – Billy was never coming home again and my
life was over too, as far as I was concerned. I knew with all
these people here I did not have to do anything, even take
care of the children, but first I had one more very
important thing to do and that was to tell Michael that his
daddy was gone forever.
Michael had been enjoying the excitement and the attention,
but he did not really have any idea why all of a sudden the
peace in our little home had erupted into one big party, or
at least it had to seem that way to a child. Taking Michael
by the hand, I walked with him back to his bedroom and
closed the door so he would listen to me, and not become
diverted by all the confusion. He had to listen to me now
while I broke his three-year-old heart, and I just hoped he
was young enough not to know the pain I was feeling and that
I feel even now while I write this story.
“Michael, son,” I began, “Your Daddy is not going to be able
to come home and play with you anymore; he had to go live
with Baby Jesus.”
Michael looked at me perplexed and said, “Why?” as I knew he
would, but God reached down and put the right words in my
mouth when I had no idea what to say or how to explain the
wanton negligence that had led to this tragedy.
“Because,” Michael, Baby Jesus needs him more than we do.”
However, this was not true! I knew it, but I did not know
what else to say. How do you tell a three-year-old that his
daddy is dead and gone forever? I vowed then I would not take
him to the funeral home or to the funeral, he was too young
to have to see his Mommy struggle to get through these next
days, and the days ahead when we got back to Atlanta. All
I could do was hope that someday I would find the words to
explain all that would face us in the days, the months, and
the years to come, and that God would once again put words
in my mouth that would not break my son’s heart as it had
my own. How well I knew that children are far more astute
than given credit for, and the questions would appear, when
I was least prepared, and those questions I would have to be
ready to handle.
When I woke up that morning to take care of my precious Billy,
I was a twenty-two year old wife and mother, with a strong,
handsome, loving husband, and two beautiful children. Now,
all of a sudden, I was a widow and single mother of two, no
three, I had forgotten for a moment I was pregnant! How I
hated the word ‘widow’! How would I be able to fill out
forms and have to check that block? Well, now was not the
time to think about it, and like Scarlett, tomorrow was
another day and I would think about it then!
This most awful day was far from over. I still had to talk
to my family about arrangements and I had been thinking
about how I could best please everyone when truly I should
have been thinking about my own needs. I needed to have
Billy close to me although he had wanted his burial at
Arlington National Cemetery, which, at that time, was still
open to all soldiers killed on active duty, but that was
too far away from Atlanta. As much as I disliked it, the
only place I had to go was Atlanta, and now I would not
have my Prince Charming to protect and rescue me. A
traditional military funeral was appropriate and exactly
what Billy would have wanted, but I thought that perhaps
since Ft. Benning was not so far away there would still be
soldiers who served with him to act as pallbearers, and I
kept that thought in mind. Certainly, Sgt. Tuttle would
have to know, and I knew that he could and would organize
this scenario if possible, but I did not know how to
contact him except through Headquarters at the O.C.S.
School and this too would have to wait until Monday. Why
I did not think of just going back to Columbus where we
had been so happy, and where I was sure to find many
friends and classmates, I do not know. Just suffice it
to say, I was not thinking.
Patterson’s of Atlanta was the most prestigious funeral
home where many of the South’s most famous sons and
daughters were laid to rest prior to their burials, and
its Spring Street location would be central for the
family on the north side of town and the family in the
West End. By the time my aunt called me back, I had
silently been going through the motions of dignified
grief while thinking about ‘arrangements’ and I had begun
to hate the word! My aunt said she could tell I was in
shock since I spoke to her like this was a business call,
and I told her word for word how I wanted the ‘
arrangements’ handled. I knew the 3rd Army Headquarters
on that end would take over and see that my wishes were
granted as far as possible, so when Helen told me my
grandmother had offered a grave in her four grave plot
in Arlington Memorial Gardens in Sandy Springs, I knew
that would be perfect. It was not the National Cemetery
in Arlington, Virginia, but named ‘Arlington’, and surely,
Billy would forgive this one transgression from his
wishes. I told her I would be giving her name and phone
number to the officials in Hawaii who would contact 3rd
Army, and that if it was all right with her, she would be
my ‘contact person’ in Atlanta, to which she readily
agreed.
In fact, I do not even remember asking if we could come
to her home, I just assumed the children and I would be
welcome. It was a far better place for all of us than my
parent’s crowded house or my grandmother’s small apartment,
although I longed to be a child once again and climb into
my grandmother’s lap and let her kiss the ‘boo-boo’ away.
However, this was the big one and it would never go away,
not completely. I do not remember any of the conversation
but Helen said I spoke as if I were on ‘automatic pilot’
and making arrangements far beyond my expertise and years,
and I knew everyone would do all possible to fulfill my
wishes. The one thing I do remember that I asked for was
for Taps just as before the sunset, and not having seen
the site, I did not know there was a small hill opposite
the gravesite where the bugler could stand with the
riflemen who would render the traditional 21-gun salute.
I wanted Billy laid to rest in dignity and with honor, for
his twenty-four and one-half years on this earth had ended
just as his career was taking off. Although denied serving
his country in Vietnam, he had performed all of his duties,
completed all of his training with great enthusiasm and
love for the Army. Now his beloved Infantry was folding
its wings tightly around his widow and his children, and
I knew everyone would do all possible to fulfill even the
most minor of my requests.
Since this was a Saturday, most of the business could not be
even begin until Monday, but I knew too that everyone would
handle this with utmost efficiency and as expediently as
possible. In the meantime, I had to get through the days and
the nights, which would be longer than they had ever been,
and I needed to keep myself from falling apart from sheer
grief and exhaustion.
As the day wound down into evening, at one time an officer
who had been assigned as my ‘survivor assistance officer’
from the 1/14th, came to the house carrying a plain brown
manila envelope which he said contained everything Billy
had on him or in the car when he died. I could not bear to
touch it or to look at it, and I physically recoiled as he
handed it to me, and someone wisely put it away in the top
drawer of the buffet. The horror of accepting that envelope
that contained Billy’s wedding band, his class ring, his
billfold and other papers taken from the car made it just
too real. It was as if by handling these things when they
were not on my Billy, I was accepting he was gone for good,
and I was not ready to do that, not yet, not ever. I knew
it, but I did not want to know it. Deep inside I guess I
was hoping for some miracle, some mistaken identity,
anything, and my handsome soldier to come walking through
the door asking what the party was all about - maybe
tomorrow.
By suppertime, almost everyone had left except for Russ
and Linda who would stay with me until my mother could
arrive. Somehow the message was received that Mother,
Gene and Ruth would be arriving on the same flight from
the mainland, and for the life of me, I cannot remember
what day that was, probably Sunday or Monday. This is
where I go blank. When I was not attending to business,
I cannot remember what I did, who was there or what
happened around me, and for the life of me I cannot
even remember taking care of the children, which I
obviously did with Linda’s assistance. Sometime during
the night while all were sleeping I wandered through
the house and gathered Billy’s personal items, his
toothbrush, razor, shaving cream, and other things I
cannot remember, and I put them all in cardboard boxes
that were in the house, probably because I had requested
them, but again I do not recall how or why.
One part of my mind was running with the precision of a
fine watch, while the other part of my mind and my heart
had stopped working altogether. If I ‘felt’ then I could
not get through this, and I wanted everyone to see and
to know how much I loved Billy, and by maintaining my
dignity, I kept his. I so wanted him to be proud of me,
although in all my twenty-two and one half years I had
never felt the grief I felt now, and while I did
perform in a dignified manner at his mother’s funeral
it had not been with my heart breaking except for the
motherless little boys. Now I was practically paralyzed
with grief, and thought perhaps I would die too, but
something inside of me that was far stronger than
anything I had ever been, took over, and while it
seemed as if it was I doing all the right things, it
was someone else. I was the observer and from ‘out of
body’ I viewed myself as I went about doing what had
to be done in the most efficient way possible. This
nightmare was not going to end for days, or even weeks
or months, and I would have to be stronger than I had
ever been, for my children, and as the perfect
officer’s wife who has to deal with even the most
dreadful situations with dignity.
Somewhere deep inside I thought again about Jackie
Kennedy and her grief stricken eyes, like those of a
doe caught in the headlights of an onrushing car, but
outwardly, she was dignified and efficient. Could I
pull this off? I did not know, but I knew I had to try,
and it never dawned on me how much younger I was than
the president’s widow. In my heart, I remember one of
the last words that Billy had spoken to me was “I love
you more than life itself,” and I was ever so grateful
we had parted with words of love, although those
unfulfilled promises would now never be kept. The
night on the beach, which Billy longed for, was now
almost over, and all I had left was memories, our
children, and that brown manila envelope in the buffet
drawer. Again, during that long night, I woke up and
remembered I had not even asked Trish if Elizabeth was
all right after ingesting the Contac, but then again,
had they not been here with me? I was becoming more
confused as the medicine took effect, and finally I
dropped off into a restless sleep with my daughter in
her crib at the side of the bed, and my now fatherless
son in bed with me. I knew I simply could not sleep
alone this night so Michael was delighted to sleep
upstairs and then again, Russ and Linda had the beds
downstairs.
“Dear God,” I prayed, “help me through this nightmare.
Make it all be a mistake.”
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