Waiting in Germany

December 26th, 1990

Hello, My Love,

I am writing the day after Christmas, so I know you won't receive the letter for a while. I am so mad - the Army assured us our soldiers would have time with their families before deploying to Iraq for Desert Storm. We barely saw you from the beginning of November until you left Christmas week!!

Okay, enough of my anger. Even though we are scared for you, I tried to make Christmas as normal as possible. I made pancakes with powdered sugar and soft-boiled eggs. The eggs came from the Ansbach Saturday market, not the commissary. We had to park quite far away from the town center and walk in much further than usual with Christmas coming. After our yummy breakfast (I hope you have a dining tent with good food), Leigh and I then went on a short walk in the snow, and around ten a.m., your daughter began opening presents. I added more (from you to her) and wrapped them beautifully. You know I usually wrap quickly with little finesse, but this time, I used patience, like you taught me, and added ribbon and bows to make it festive. Jimmie from downstairs dropped off some cupcakes she had made but didn't want to come in for coffee. I gave her the charm bracelet you and I chose for her. Do you remember our drive to Rothenburg on that beautiful summer day? All the fields were yellow from the canola oil crop, and we had lunch at one of the roadside stands. Remember the fox we saw running across the road and deer near the woods?

Jimmie loved her present. When I told her you had picked it out, she cried, saying she worried about Len. I assured her that General Schwarzkopf and Colin Powell would ensure that you and Len came home safely.

You know I love driving along the German country roads and taking in the sights, even when the fields are snow-covered. The weather is quite cold with clear blue skies, so I asked Anna if she wanted to go to Nuremberg. She and Gisela rode with Leigh and me. We first stopped at the Gummy Bear factory so the kids could pick out some treats. Since the factory also has chocolate, you know I got some!

Very little food is on the shelves in our small commissary on Post, and not much in Nuremberg. We won't go hungry, but the selections are limited, especially in the meat case.

I will return to work in the military personnel office on Tuesday, 2 January (today is Wednesday). They gave us two days off besides the holiday, which was nice.

I only wish they had given you soldiers a week off, like they promised, before deploying you to Operation Desert Storm. (oh, the anger sneaked in again, but you worked eighteen-hour days and only came home to change and sleep a few hours.) You were the last to board the bus taking everyone to the departure zone. I'm telling you this now in this letter - I had to ask the Lieutenant where you were! I watched all the soldiers board the bus with my co-worker, SP4 Canard, and we saw her husband board the bus but never saw you. The LT frantically ran around trying to find you, and finally, you pulled up in an Army jeep and told him you had to stay and secure the arms room. I got a quick hug and kiss, and off you went, with me standing there watching the bus pull out.

I hope you understand that I wanted to be strong for you, so I did not cry as I watched the bus drive away.

Leigh has already had those photos developed, which she took with your face covered in dirt from working eighteen-hour days. They are displayed above her bedroom mirror, with a large pink heart pinned next to them.

Let me close, for now, my Dearest Love. I will mail this tomorrow morning.

Forever,

Kate

~~~~~~~

January 2, 1991.

Hi, my sweetest husband! Kiss, kiss. 💋

On New Year's Eve, Anna and Giselle came over. Jimmie joined us, and we all sat together, enjoying treats we had made. Of course, mine had chocolate in them! Anna waited until the clock struck midnight and then lit fireworks outside in the courtyard, much to the kids' delight. Many were setting off fireworks and hollering. The temperature gauge said it was twenty-eight degrees. I sat by the phone, hoping that one of our husbands (you!!) would call from Iraq.  After the small fireworks were finished, we looked at each other. The clock read 1224. No call. We shared a group hug with the kids in the middle. Then our hug transformed into the Hokey Pokey dance, with all of us ending up laughing on the couch.

But we all felt sad.

I miss you! Picture my head on your shoulder - you and I sitting together. I miss you! I know, I said that already.

Love,

Kate

~~~~~~

January 17, 1991

My Dearest,

I was sleeping, completely exhausted, when at one a.m. or, as you would say, zero one hundred, Lee phoned me, saying that the bombing had begun. I lay alone in our king-sized bed, missing you. I wish she hadn't called! It was disturbing, and all I could do was switch on the TV. The American channel was broadcasting coverage of the bombing in Iraq, featuring the newscasters. I sat there shivering, wrapped in a blanket, watching the sky light up with the bombing. Leigh was sleeping.

…. Forgive the break and my not getting this letter mailed out sooner - it has been days since I began it.

The only thing available on TV is the war coverage - 24/7. There is nothing else. Day and night, it is coverage of the bombing, casualties, and the Coalition pushing and punishing Saddam.

Leigh is doing well. The school keeps them busy. Since we are still inundated with snow, she is practicing her running for track meets indoors. I began a college class to keep my mind occupied. The "stay-behind" soldiers I work with are incredibly supportive and offered to help with anything we might need.

We are safe here. Soldiers are stationed on the road by our building's parking lot, scanning each vehicle coming near for bombs, looking underneath them and in the trunks. Those guys are so cold that their balaclavas are pulled over their noses. Reminds me of when I was small and walking to school in Chicago winters. I'm not taking walks outside; it is icy, so the only exercise I get is the stairs in our building and any others I can find to climb. I'm rambling, sorry. I made cookies and hot chocolate for the two daytime soldiers and took it to them this morning.

All my love! Stay safe. I haven't received any letters from you. I know you are at war and watching out for your troops, but I wish you could call or message us. I long to hear from you and know you are all right.

Your loving wife, Kate

~~~~~

February 13, 1991

Tomorrow is our anniversary, and still no news from you...Sergeant Jones assured me that the messages we send from the military MARS station are transmitted and that this is the fastest way for you to receive a message. I walk over there every day with a short message.

When you phoned me at work the week before last, Mrs. Carrington was in the office. I just started crying. It was such a relief to hear your voice! I was sobbing on the phone, standing by the window. When our call ended, she came over and asked if I was okay. I know her husband flies the attack helicopters, and I pray he is safe and watching out for you guys.

Love - K

~~~~~

2-14-91

Happy anniversary, Babe. I mailed a card out two weeks ago, hoping it would arrive on Valentine's Day, our anniversary. I sent a MARS message yesterday, so I hope you will at least get that. It is a short walk to the MARS building from where I work, and Sgt. Jones said we are limited to one message per day. I tried to mail some packages to you, but the mail room frequently says, "oversize -  it's larger than 45 inches." What? By a half-inch? Fuck! Oops, sorry, I miss you so! The mailing issue is maddening. We just have 24/7 war coverage but no letters, no phone calls!

Baby, please just ignore my complaining. I need you back to keep me calm, like you always do. I love you to the moon!

K

~~~~

February 14, 1991 – Army postmark stamped 2/18/91, (received 2/25/91)

Hello Sweetheart,

We have been working around the clock, and I can't say much. CW3 Carrington picked me up in the helicopter and took me to get essential supplies for the Commander. It was dangerous, and he used a pilot camouflage maneuver, which I will tell you about when I get home. I hope you and Leigh are okay. I miss you and love you. Stay safe, and be careful driving; don't try to keep up with those Germans on the autobahn! Must go now, Baby.

Love to you and Leigh - can't wait to get home to you both,

T

February 27, 1991, postmarked 3/1/91 (received 3/26/91)

Baby, have to make this quick - sounds like a cease-fire will happen tomorrow. I have little time, so I must seal this note and send it. Should see you soon. As you know, I was one of the first to go in to set things up and will be one of the last to come home – the Logistics field is just that way. So it may be April, May, or June when I get home. If there is a cease-fire and I begin to move out of Iraq and Kuwait, I will call you and let you know a better date to expect me. We aren't getting mail. I know you are writing; we just are not getting the letters, but hopefully, you are getting mine. Just know that I love you through all of time, Sweetheart!

T

March 30, 1991 - (**added handwritten note here - received the day he arrived home, and we read it together.)

Babe,

I should be home in about two weeks. I don't write much, but I have never been a letter writer. I need to say things to you in person. I cannot wait to wrap you in my arms. I want some good German food and some of your spaghetti. We got to shop a little, and I found a rug and a necklace you will love - it's 24k gold.

It is so HOT here. I never want to see rolling hills of desert or camels again. The oil fires were horrible, and the sky was so black we could not see anything. When we first got here months ago, it rained, and everything flooded. I have many stories to tell you, but I won't share the icky stuff - I know you don't want to hear that. Some guys have really atrocious photos, too. Hug Leigh for me. We can go south to the mountains when I get home. I know they remind you of Mount Rainier.

Love you to pieces, Babe!

~~~~

1912 words for the above story.

Note 1: MARS stands for Military Auxiliary Radio System. Note 2: This story is from a time when my husband was deployed to war - the Desert Storm Gulf War when President George H.W. Bush formed a coalition to stop Saddam Hussein. I stayed in Germany, working for the U.S. Army, living in leased quarters just outside of the Katterbach Army base. Names are changed (including our daughter's) in the story. My husband NEVER received my letters or the MARS messages. We don't know why.

Copyright ©2/28/2025 by Andrea O. Corwin

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