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Our Son is Home

A short commentary by Deb Turbeville on the return of her son from Afghanistan on Monday February 5th 2011

It was frigidly cold, and had sleeted and snowed during the morning. Winds were gusting outside the hangar at 25 to 35 mph. As the plane landed, the crowd gathered outside was a bundle of emotions with screaming, cheering, crying and laughing all at the same time. Although it was cold outside, the weather in our hearts was tropical as we proudly held our American flags high over our heads.

Deb Turbeville stands in the crowd waiting for her son to get off the plane.  (blue coat with flag)
Deb Turbeville stands in the crowd waiting for her son to get off the plane. (blue coat with flag)

As we waited for our soldiers to deboard, anticipation grew and the crowd began to chant “open the door, open the door”. Finally, the first soldier started his way down the steps of the plane with many others to follow. Thunderous cheering drowned out all other surrounding noises — so loud that my ears began to ring. Then a deafening silence occurred as I began to hear my own heart beating.

As the soldiers filed by, each crowd member stared at the passing faces to catch a glimpse of their loved one. Many had passed by the time my eyes caught a walk that I was so familiar with…..it was him. There was my son! No others existed as I screamed his name “Austin” “Austin”! He saw me and smiled. I could not stop from screaming his name, and he looked at me again with his face red and a grin from ear to ear. He and the other soldiers began to line up in formation outside the hangar doors.

James Turbeville smiles after seeing his family waiting in the crowd. He is followed by his friend Joe Mcconahy (Contributed Photo)
James Turbeville smiles after seeing his family waiting in the crowd. He is followed by his friend Joe Mcconahy (Contributed Photo)

As the crowd raced in to take their seats, the inside of the building felt as if the roof was going to blow off with anticipation. What seemed like an eternity was probably no more than five minutes when the hangar doors opened. Our soldiers marched in. Applause was coupled with screams, tears and laughter once again. Children were calling “Daddy”, “Mommy”. Many grownups were speechless and could only clap. Once again, every set of eyes began to follow the faces as the soldiers marched by in formed rows. “There he is” I said as Rusty and I hugged one another.  This time, there was no guardrail between us and only a disciplinary protocol stood between us. As they sang their songs, and speeches were said, the minutes seemed like hours. Then we heard the order. I ran to my son and leaped in his arms. As the tears ran down my face, I could only say “you’re here, you’re here”. He said “yes I am Momma”. Then our embraces released and humor set in. “Momma, I thought you were going to actually jump over that guardrail”. I told him, “it did cross my mind”. We both laughed.

Yes, he was home. Home for now…..safe and alive. Thank you God.

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