THE VIRGINIAN-PILOT
Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: Monday, November 13, 1995 TAG: 9511120226
SECTION: FRONT PAGE: A1 EDITION: FINAL
SERIES: HOLLY & BOBBY
Chapter 2: I WANT MY DADDY
They say a marriage can survive anything if it survives a six-month
deployment . Holly and Bobby White know. For six months, they opened
up their home, their letters and their thoughts as the carrier
Theodore Roosevelt sailed an ocean away.
SOURCE: BY KERRY DEROCHI, STAFF WRITER
LENGTH: Long : 135 lines
Holly White was away from her desk when the phone call came.
There had been an accident at the church school her two sons attended. The younger, Cody, had thrown a rock on the playground and hit another boy in the face. There was a lot of blood. The other boy went to the hospital.
Holly needed to get there, fast.
She never got the message.
When she arrived at the school hours later to pick up the boys, she found Cody sitting silently in his pre-school classroom, his eyes swollen from crying.
Holly rushed to his side and hugged him. Cody, 3, stood rigidly. He didn't bend or reach out. On the way home, he stared out the window.
``I thought, `This is just lovely, we're going to have a school bully on our hands now,' '' Holly said. ``I didn't know what to do. Other than telling him, `We can't do this,' what the heck do I tell him?''
The incident couldn't have come at a worse time. Holly, a claims examiner at the personnel support center, was flooded with paperwork and phone calls. She'd spent most of her day trying to soothe an officer who was being transferred.
So who was there to help her?
Who was there for her?
Holly cursed the Navy, cursed Bobby.
``It's not like I wanted him to be away, like I wanted the break,'' Holly said. ``I didn't wish this, I didn't want it. I didn't want it to happen.''
The boys had been acting out since the day Bobby left four weeks before, in late March, on the carrier Theodore Roosevelt.
There was the scene at the roller-skating rink when Cody had cried and Robby had gotten frustrated because he couldn't stand.
There was the morning Robby, 4, refused to go to school. He didn't want to wear his blue jeans. He didn't want Froot Loops.
When Holly ordered him to sit in the naughty chair, he started screaming.
I want my Daddy.
I want my Daddy.
``I was at the end of my rope,'' Holly said. ``I thought, `This is the last straw. I can't take another emergency. I can't take anything else. The ship better get home soon.' ''
Before Bobby left, they had talked about how tough the adjustment would be. Holly understood the days would drag by slowly.
She just didn't know it would be so hard. The first deployment two years ago had passed in a blur of chicken pox and ear infections. Robby had been less than 2 years old, and Cody was barely 8 months.
Holly had shuttled the boys to day care and paid all the bills. She took them grocery shopping, balancing Cody in one arm and holding Robby's hand. It had been tough, but she'd gotten through it.
This time, nothing seemed to work.
She'd tried to bond with the boys, tried to be mom and dad. It didn't help. They were old enough to realize their father was gone. They didn't understand why he wasn't back yet.
Over and over, Holly tried to explain.
``He's on a ship in the water,'' she'd tell them. ``He'll be home for Christmas, and we'll get lots of presents.''
One morning she came downstairs and found Robby and Cody with a stack of videotapes around them. They were watching ``The Little Tin Soldier.''
``It's Christmastime,'' Robby said. ``Now, Daddy can come home.''
Holly was all out of answers.
At night, after taking care of the boys, she'd climb into bed and cry.
The departure was still too recent. She could see the tears on Bobby's face as he crouched in the parking lot near the pier, hugging the boys, not wanting to let go.
Silently he held Holly and picked up his sea bag to leave. Seconds later, he was back, grabbing her tightly. Turning, he headed for the ship. He didn't look back.
In the Navy they tell you all the right things to do during a deployment. Keep busy and stay focused, they say. Go to support group meetings. Write your husband.
But they don't tell you how to fight the sense of loss that seems, at times, overwhelming.
``You feel like something's missing,'' Holly said. ``It's kind of like when you've done something bad and later, you can't remember what you did, but you have that feeling hanging over you.
``When you wake up, you can't think what it is. You just have that feeling.''
On April 14, the carrier Dwight D. Eisenhower returned home, after being replaced by the Roosevelt in the Mediterranean. Television cameras showed families clamoring at the pier, trying to see their husbands and sons come home.
Holly told herself she wouldn't watch TV that night. But she stared at the newscasts, unable, somehow, to turn it off.
``It's hard, that's the worst day,'' Holly said. ``It's all over the news. It's the day you realize they're not coming home for a very long time.''
One night two weeks later, Holly sat with her boys in the living room, watching ``The Lion King.''
She got out the letters from Bobby and read them, again, to the boys.
``Hey buddies!, how are my two favorite dudes doing? . . . I'm OK, but miss you as usual. Sorry, I haven't written in a while. The time goes by so fast that Dad sometimes forgets.''
On this night, Robby and Cody weren't interested. They fought over a plastic F-14 Tomcat. They interrupted Holly, asking when they would be able to go to a farm.
A half-hour later, Robby climbed onto the couch and took the letter from his mother.
He clutched the envelope and folded it back and forth, over and over, his eyes fixed on his hands.
``You OK, honey?'' asked Holly, sitting next to him.
Quietly, Robby nodded, yes.
Holly wished she could believe him. MEMO: Tomorrow: Letters home: Bobby, counting on tenuous links to his
family, wonders whether the tour is worth the price.
ILLUSTRATION: GARY C. KNAPP
Robby plays rough with his younger brother, Cody, at the school
playground. The kids got into a few scrapes soon after their father
left.
Only three more days left in this month. Please fly by time! I
talked to Holly for a minute last night. It was basically a, `hey, I
love you.' Please God, be with me now. I need you so much. I miss
Holly and the boys. Miss them terribly. - B.W., aboard the
Roosevelt
GARY C. KNAPP
Cody, Holly and Robby have a casual dinner: pizza wgile watching -
yet again - "The Lion King." When Bobby is home, dinner is more
traditional because he prefers it that way. The longer he was gone,
the more pizza and McDonald's they ate.
by CNB