August 8, 2005 at 11:30 a.m. EDT, I was on the phone with a lawyer in Atlanta as I did my job as a prosecutor. My cell phone vibrated and as I glanced to see the incoming call number, it was apparent it was an exchange used by Fort McPherson in Atlanta - Mike could sometimes get a "free" line to call through them. I blurted to the attorney that it might be my boy calling from Iraq and I had to go and hung up on him before he could say anything. As I said hello on my cell phone, a familiar voice replied - "Hey dad, how you doing...." It was Mike and my heart was lifted by the sound of his voice, even though he sounded very tired.
Of course, he wanted to know about my wife Retta - his "other mom" and his brother Wes and sister Abbey. I gave the details of our daily life, and the latest about his beloved dogs, Patches the Pit Bull and Pepper the German Short Haired Hound. He laughed at the latest antics of each. We covered a lot of ground, like how were the friends, Crossroads Church, etc. and we talked about his coming home September 1 for two weeks and things we would do together. I asked him somethings he would like to eat, given the food was not so good at Yusufiyah. Mike loved Italian food and he loved steaks. I promised him lots of both. We talked about a special family vacation to Hawaii for two weeks after he came home from his tour of duty in May 2006 - a graduation present for his brother Wes, mine and Retta's 20th anniversary, and a delayed honeymoon for he and his wife, Niki (they had married but ten days before he left for Iraq).
Then we shifted gears. Mike then brought me up to speed - they had it rough. His patrol sector was in the Triangle of Death, and crossed the sectors where eleven Georgia 48th Brigade National Guardsmen had already died in the last two and half weeks. It was a tough place, to say the least. Our mutual pact was no sugar coating - but I was to keep it to myself and not let others in the family know so as not to worry them.
Sniper attacks, on-going mortar fire, IEDs, a suicide car bomber, coordinated attacks - many close calls in the weeks before. Just the day before this call, he stepped out of the HumVee as an IED went off, sharpnel hitting all around, but not a scratch. The crater it left was waist deep. I asked him if he was scared and he said he was the first time he came under fire and the first time an IED went off. But, he then said, you just get used to it. It was then I told him he shouldn't be surprised if he woke up in pain one night after he got home for leave in a few weeks - that I might do what I started to do the night of May 1 when he came home on pre-deployment leave. On that May night, I had gotten a softball bat out of the basement and waited till way after midnight till he was good asleep and had every intention of shattering his shins so he couldn't go to Iraq. But I couldnt' do it. When I told him the next day what I started to do, he laughed, and then asked me why I didn't. I told Mike I didn't because of the lesson I learned from the Old Testament story of Jonah and the Whale. Jonah couldn't hide from God, and who was I to try and hide my son.
On August 8, Mike Stokely laughed again at the thought of his dad taking a ball bat to his shins to cripple him and keep him from Iraq - but then he got serious. He made it clear, with firm reassurance, but reminding me of my words from May. "Dad, you need to give it a rest. You said yourself you can't hide me from God. God will find me where I am at when he is ready for me, whether it be in the safety of America, or the dangers of Yusufiyah. I have to die sometime, and I can't think of a better way than serving my country. I am an American Soldier and if my time is here and now, I am ready." My boy - a true man - had put it to me straight, but in a reassuring way. It was clear, he was not afraid. We shifted gears a little and talked about his fellow soldiers.
Then, the moment I always hated - it was time for him to go. He told me to tell Retta, Wes and Abbey hello and that he loved them. Then, he said he had better go and let someone else have the phone, and anyway, it was time to go on a mission. I told him I loved him, and as he was about to hang up, He ended the call with these words so dear to my heart - "I love you dad".
I thank God that I got that call on August 8, even more so, I thank God for my boy, a man of men, tough enough to be a soldier 8,000 miles from home in a harsh environment and under hostile fire, but still tender and thoughtful enough to say - "I love you dad."
I thank God for these words, for they were the last I will ever hear him speak on this earth.
Robert Stokely
proud dad, SGT Mike Stokely
KIA IED 16 August 2005 near Yusufiyah, south of Bagdad
Ed Note:
Open Posted at Mudville Gazette and Castle Argghhh!
No comments:
Post a Comment