Wherever You Are: The Military Wives: Our true stories of heartbreak, hope and love. The Wives Military

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СКАЧАТЬ head I could hear this running commentary: he must be all right, as he’s talking to me. He told me he was in hospital with a suspected broken leg. When he put the phone down, I had no idea what to do. I’d gone to stay with my mum in Watford for a few days, taking with me our son Freddie, who was two, and I’d been changing Freddie’s nappy when the phone rang. I didn’t have an information pack with all the emergency numbers, and as we lived in Yeovil, but Andrew was serving with a unit from Plymouth, I didn’t know who to ring. In the end, all I could think of was to ring a friend who had been posted to Germany, and she promised to try to find out for me. There is an official drill, and I should have been informed, but somehow I’d dropped off the radar. My friend texted me to say she was trying to get some information, but I had a terrible night.

      The next day I had a phone call from Andrew again. ‘All right, babes? I don’t want you to panic, but I’ve had an accident …’

      By now alarm bells were ringing loudly: I hoped he’d got concussion and not a more serious head injury, but he clearly didn’t remember ringing me the day before, and I still hadn’t heard anything official. Eventually I got through to the right welfare number, but there seemed to be no record of him having an injury.

      The next day, he rang again: ‘All right, babes? I don’t want you to panic …’

      I was really panicking. I asked him if there was anyone else near the phone who could talk to me, but he said the nurse had just wheeled him over and left him there. I was getting desperate, especially when he told me he had a bad headache.

      Finally, that afternoon, a liaison officer rang me. Looking back, I should have been making more of a fuss, but I just didn’t know how to. Now I don’t go anywhere without all the right numbers with me.

      He was flown back to Selly Oak Hospital, in Birmingham (the centre for treating wounded servicemen). I was told that he had leg, arm and head injuries, caused by an accident when he was on a quad bike.

      My dad drove me up to Birmingham while Mum looked after Freddie. When I saw Andrew he had a massive gouge in his head and a long line of stitches up his left arm; then they operated and put pins and plates in his ankle. There were bits of gravel stuck in his face, and where he had been badly shaved there were tufts of hair all over his chin. He was ashen grey, with bags under his eyes, and he looked 15 years older. But he was so pleased to see me. We cuddled and he told me he had a thumping headache.

      After the relief of seeing him and holding him, I started crying and berating him. All that emotion, the relief, the fear, everything I’d held in while I didn’t know what had happened, exploded.

      ‘How could you do this to me? You’ve put me through hell,’ I said.

      He was half-laughing, and then he grabbed me and said, ‘I’m really sorry.’

      Part of me was happy that at least he was now off the tour. But being what he is, he told me straightaway that he wanted to get back out there. Although I would have loved him to stay at home, I know him well enough to realise he would not be happy if he didn’t get back out, and he would feel he’d let the others down.

      So when he got home from hospital I used my nursing skills to help with the physio. I arranged private physio, acupuncture and massage for him, and then worked with him on the exercises.

      He got back out there for the last six weeks of the tour. It was important to him. In a funny way, I was happy to see him go because it meant so much to him. He says it was down to me that he recovered well enough in time. ‘You fixed me,’ he says. He was elated to have qualified for the tour medal, and that feeling helped him get over the tour better than usual, although it was still a difficult time.

      That was my worst experience as a military wife. Looking back, I was so green when I first met Andrew, a few years earlier. I had no idea what it was all about. It all started with a kiss at the end of a party. The town I come from, Watford, has no military connections and I didn’t have a clue about life in the forces; I didn’t know anyone who was serving. But I’m a big believer in fate, and I’m sure fate had a hand in bringing me and Andrew (who is known as ‘Catch’ to all his mates) together.

      I was 18 and training to be a nurse when a friend persuaded me to go to a 21st birthday party. She planned to set me up with a local lad. I was feeling ill, with raging tonsillitis, and I nearly didn’t go. I wasn’t attracted to my blind date, and to be honest I didn’t feel well and didn’t want to be there, so I was trying to make my excuses to get home to bed when Andrew arrived late at the party, after returning home from a posting in Brunei.

      He nearly didn’t go that night, and I nearly left just before he arrived. We almost didn’t meet.

      A couple of months after we started going out, he went on a three-month tour of the Mediterranean, sailing to France, Spain, Italy, Cyprus and Egypt. I learnt he was going from one of his mates. He was so casual about it, and I was distraught. I bought a big map and put it on the wall of my bedroom, and I cut out a little paper ship, which I moved about with pins, following his route. I sobbed all the time, saying to Mum, ‘I don’t think I can do this,’ and playing our song, ‘I Wanna Be the Only One’ by Eternal, over and over. I had a wall-chart calendar and I was crossing the days off with a big red pen. The only thing I did was go to university; the rest of the time I was in my bedroom, being miserable.

      Mum said, ‘You’ll have to toughen up. You have to live your own life when he’s away.’

      I wailed, ‘But I don’t want to …’

      And he wasn’t even anywhere dangerous! I really dragged it out. Now I’d just be glad he was going somewhere safe.

      Early on, he gave me a catchphrase that covers everything that military life throws at us: ‘It’s life in a green suit, babes, life in a green suit.’ It covers all the problems his job brings with it, and if ever I say anything about his life my family repeat it back to me. I’ve learnt to accept it.

      I fell in love with the man, and he is the job. It’s his life. It runs through his blood, and he is the man I love. For the first three years we were together I stayed at home in Watford, doing my training, and we saw each other whenever we could.

      When he was away I used to go out with friends, but I always felt like a gooseberry because they had their boyfriends with them. Someone would ask me how long it was since I’d seen him and that would set me off. ‘It’s been 70 days, 8 hours …’ – even down to the minutes. It was like a digital clock in my head.

      I’m a Cinderella nut so we had a huge Cinderella-themed wedding, complete with glass coach and glass slippers, and he was my Prince Charming, in uniform. Afterwards we moved together to Portsmouth, to a top-floor flat on a military patch.

      My family couldn’t believe I was the one who moved away: I’m such a home bird. I know it doesn’t sound far, Watford to Portsmouth, but for me then it seemed a long way. Where I grew up I had my mum and dad and little sister, my big sister and her husband round the corner, my nan and my aunties and all my school and nursing friends nearby, and Andrew’s family not far away – I felt I was going to the other end of the country. It was a really big wrench.

      At first we were welcomed by the neighbours. But as soon as Andrew put his marine uniform on they ignored us. I didn’t know why. I couldn’t understand – and I still can’t – why there are rivalries between different branches of the armed forces. A bit of friendly rivalry is one thing, but we heard about social things that we weren’t invited to, and that really hurt.

      Most of those around us were naval people. СКАЧАТЬ