Good Bye Uncle Reese!

So much for "Three for Thursday." How does "68 for Saturday" sound?

All of those Hansen rug-rats grew up. I really like these fellas. We decided at the last minute to drive to Utah to say goodbye to my baby brother, Reese, as he leaves for Afghanistan with the Utah Guard 211th.

Very emotional.
A hangar full of family being separated.

We both have that same goofy, over-confident, high-eyebrow smile. We get it from our Dad.
These brothers have to stick together amongst all of the sisters.

How do you say goodbye to an 8 month old baby and a lovely wife?

The dumbest thing about war is that the bad guys also have mothers, fathers, siblings, wives, children, and nieces and nephews. It's crazy and nuts and adds up to a terrible math equation. American soldiers don't have a corner on the market when it comes to the smiles of their families.

My Grandpa Hansen served with the Utah Guard in WWII. They were The Timberwolves and were called up in 1942. He was in the European theater and saw some action. He left behind a young wife and a little baby.

He never talked about the war. There was no such thing as PTSD. Well, there was such a thing, but you were S.O.L. when it came to remedies for such things. Your choices were alcohol, depression, suppression, bad dreams, wrecked marriages and the like. My Dad says in hind-sight that my grandpa suffered from depression. I have a lot of compassion for my grandpa.

My grandpa spent the last few weeks of his life living at my parents house. We happened to live next door to my parents, and were able to spend some time with him. The day before he died, I had the opportunity to speak to him when he was incredibly lucid. I asked him about the war.

He told me things I don't think he'd ever told anyone else.

He said he hated it. He hated being close to guys one day, and then they were gone the next.

When the European conflict ended, my grandpa was in Cologne, Germany. Neal served a chunk of his mission there. The entire big city was rubble, with the exception of the Dom cathedral. My grandpa expressed his horror and sadness at the loss amongst the German people. He said that they were people, just like him. A young boy helped him find water so that my grandpa could shave. My grandpa kept saying, "They were regular people, just like us." I could tell that it was a sad irony and terrible realization that the enemy are our brothers and sisters and we have so much in common.

My grandpa told me of the boat ride home across the Atlantic. He said that it was like the lights had gone out in his life during the war.

Here is my brother's facebook status as he left:

"Received a blessing from my father this evening, and then I gave my wife and daughter one. It was hard, but I made it through. I am going to miss them so badly, it hurts. I feel a little like someone is dimming out the lights to my world, and I have to wait a year for them to turn it back on. I love you Laura and I love you, Blakely."

War is terrible.