Guardsmen leave for uncertain destination

Tears and hugs as troops leave loved ones behind

By MICHAEL WANBAUGH
Tribune Staff Writer

PLYMOUTH -- Inside the Indiana National Guard Armory here at the corner of Madison and Eighth streets Thursday, the reality of a president's vow glistens in the watery eyes of mothers and fathers, wives and children, girlfriends and fiancees.

Through sniffles and facial tissue, President Bush's war against terrorism and possibly Iraq is summarized to young sons and daughters in the smallest words possible. After sugar-coated translation, the children understand only that their daddies won't be home for a long time.

"The hardest thing for me is leaving my family and children," said Sgt. Keith McMillan, 32, who is a Persian Gulf War veteran. "I worry about things like what if (my wife's) car breaks down. Who is going to be there to help her?"

On Thursday, 43 members of C Company 2-151 Infantry of the Indiana National Guard were activated and transported to Camp Atterbury in southern Indiana.

At Camp Atterbury, which is near Edinburgh, Ind., in Bartholomew County, the soldiers will undergo soldier readiness processing, or SRP, according to Lt. Col. Jim McGillivray, a spokesman for the Indiana National Guard. Their skills will be assessed and their personnel records checked for accuracy. Medical and dental exams will also be given, McGillivray said.

Camp Atterbury is one of 15 military mobilization sites across the country.

McMillan, who is a factory

worker from Wolcottville, Ind., has been put on active duty twice before; in 1989 to go to Panama and in 1990 for Operation Desert Storm. All he can do during such times, he says, is have faith in both his family and mission.

"I joined the Army to serve my country," McMillan said. "That's all the mental preparation I can do."

Some soldiers spent the night at the armory, but most began arriving for duty around 8 a.m. Family members were invited to attend a small ceremony at 10 a.m. and visit until the soldiers left for Camp Atterbury at 12:30 p.m.

The ceremony was attended by state Rep. Steve Heim, R-Plymouth, Plymouth Common Council members Chuck Ripley and Ken Lukenbill, City Clerk-Treasurer Toni Hutchings, Fire Chief John Brown and Mayor Jim Yeazel.

Yeazel, who was notified of the activation on Tuesday, presented the company with an American flag.

Just before Yeazel's presentation, with the company assembled, the Rev. Emil Klatt read the Marine's Prayer, substituting the words "Army" and "soldier" for "Marine."

Klatt, who also works at Culver Academy, spent 20 years as a Marine pilot, from 1977 to 1997. He has flown military missions all over the world, including over the Middle East during Operation Desert Storm. Klatt has said good-bye under uncertain circumstances many times.

"There are a lot of mixed emotions right now," Klatt said as he stood quietly near the wall, watching the soldiers interact with the families they were about to leave. "You're asking yourself 'Is my family going to be OK? Will I do a good job? When will I come home? Will I be OK?'

"There is anticipation, there is a feeling of confidence in the training you've received, and there is a tug at your heart because you have to leave your family. That never gets easy. Each time is just as hard as the time before."

For Specialists David Diaz, 18, Joshua Berryman, 19, and William Michaels, 19, the four-hour wait in the gymnasium dragged on. They had already said their goodbyes and were ready to get to work.

"I just want to hurry up and go," said Diaz, a recent graduate of Clay High School. "I'm nervous, but I'm also excited. I definitely want to go overseas. I really want to go to Italy."

Diaz and Berryman, who is from Knox, are upbeat and jokingly refer to Michaels, who is from Bremen, as "Mr. Burns," because of his resemblance to a cartoon character from the television show "The Simpsons."

They laugh together and feel comfortable around each other. Still, they realize the scope of their participation. They know what they signed up for and say they're ready for it.

"I'm not surprised we've been called up," said Berryman, who has a 7-month-old daughter. "But I can't believe that time has come."

"That's why we're here," added Diaz, who is the oldest of David

Diaz Sr.'s three sons. "To expect the unexpected."

On the north end of the gymnasium, a Humvee and a 2 1/2 ton Army truck, known to the soldiers as a deuce and a half, are parked inside like they're part of a museum display. The soldiers load their duffels onto the truck as Sgt. 1st Class Juan Martinez, the acting first sergeant of C Company 2-151, supervises.

Activation is nothing new for Martinez, who is also a Gulf War veteran.

"These soldiers are pretty upbeat and understand what they're called to do," Martinez said. "But, there's also some sadness going on, which is understandable."

A girl wearing a North Judson-San Pierre High School letter jacket with a most improved swimmer patch sewn to its back sits on her boyfriend's lap. He's drenched in green camouflage.

Another soldier offers hugs, kisses and tears to eight members of his family there to see him off. He starts at one end of a row of folding chairs and works his way down, finally reaching his wife. They both have plenty of tears left.

In the corner, a soldier who just got married on Monday, talks with his new bride and fidgets with his wedding ring.

At 12:27 p.m., Martinez orders C Company to assemble for roll call. It's time to go.

When called, the soldiers shout their presence as ordered and board the bus. Some mouth "I love you" to their family as they walk out the door. Others give a thumbs up, blow a kiss or march briskly toward the door with their head down, trying not to cry.

"They're nervous," Klatt said of the departing soldiers. "It's not fear. They know the risks of this job. It's an understanding. It's a feeling of what this profession means; bottom line."

With shivering families lining the drive, the bus full of local soldiers pulled out behind a police escort.

Even after the bus was out of sight, it took a while for families to move. Many just stood where they were and held each other as the blare of the police sirens got softer and softer.