A Memorial Day reflection

There have been thousands of stories about the conflict in Iraq over the past five years. I use the term “conflict” because, as I have often been reminded, Congress has not officially declared a war. And according to the 2005 Uniform Code of Military Justice, a time of war “means a period of war declared by Congress or the factual determination by the President that the existence of hostilities warrants a finding that a ‘time of war’ exists.” And we all know the president has not found any factual determination of war. But I digress. My husband, Lou, and I paid close attention as our troops gathered in Kuwait and prepared to strike. We were horrified on March 23, 2003 (which was our eighth wedding anniversary), to hear about one of our own men — Hassan Akbar — tossing grenades into a tent full of American soldiers, and then shooting at them as they ran out. We followed that story closely as well. I couldn’t imagine the pain that Chris Seifert’s wife and Major Stone’s fiancée were experiencing. Each of the men died from the attack. Murdered by one of us. It seemed incomprehensible. As a member of the New York National Guard, my husband could not imagine any soldier turning on our own men. Lou had very explicit opinions as to what should happen to Hassan Akbar. Soon after that day in March our troops rolled into Iraq. It wasn’t long before word reached us of the first American soldier killed in combat. That first combat loss was a grim reality check, but for those of us in this area it was still far from our own families. For the time being Hudson Valley families remained untouched. Each day we held our breaths in dread of losing someone close to home. Prayed an extra prayer. But of course our communities eventually fell prey to tragedy just like those other communities we had previously read about. Now our firemen hung enormous flags as soldiers’ caskets were driven by. Our policemen appeared in dress uniform to honor soldiers from our towns. My husband presented the flag to a young widow at the cemetery. He fought back tears as he told me about it. Each time a soldier fell, we would pray for that family, and then thank God for keeping our own family safe. On Memorial Day 2005 it was my husband’s turn to deploy. He did so willingly, anxious to join our troops and eager to help resolve a serious supply problem plaguing the 42nd Unit at Division Headquarters. His good friend Captain Phillip Esposito was commanding officer there, and Lou had a great respect for him. I was relieved Lou would be far from the worst areas. I believed Division Headquarters was about as safe a location as possible. I could not have been more wrong. I was 32 years old that hot summer morning when my doorbell rang at 6 a.m. Our boys were so little. They were just six, five, three, and one when tragedy arrived at our own front door. I no longer simply sympathized with strangers’ families as I saw their stories on the front page. I could no longer lean into my husband after he tucked the boys in and tell him how grateful I was for having him here safe with us. For now it was my family who had paid the ultimate price — my husband who was taken from us, my sons who must be told daddy will never come home. It was our turn. My husband died just ten days after I kissed him goodbye at Fort Drum that Memorial Day Weekend. But that wasn’t the worst of it. The unthinkable had happened again. It was one of our own — Staff Sgt. Alberto Martinez — whom we were told was suspected of murdering not only Lou but Captain Esposito as well. This truth filtered through myself and Siobhan Esposito, Phil’s wife. We forged a bond in grappling with our new realities. Terri Seifert, previously a stranger I read about from the Akbar case, now became a source of inspiration. She spent hours on the phone with me, assuring me it is possible to find the strength to see this through to trial. It took two years to sentence Akbar to death. Surely it wouldn’t take as long with Martinez. Again. We could not have been more wrong. This June will be three years since our husbands were murdered. Siobhan and I, as well as our husbands’ parents, have attended numerous pre-trial hearings against the accused. The first was an Article 32 Hearing in Kuwait. Siobhan and I persuaded the government to bring us there to witness it. Our husbands had elected to name their wives as the Primary Next of Kin (PNOK) prior to deployment. As such, at least initially, the Army focused primarily on Siobhan and me. This has since changed, and my husband’s family now has equal opportunity to speak with the trial team and witness the proceedings. But at the early stage they were somewhat reliant on me to keep them in the loop. So Lou’s dad went to Kuwait on his own. Since then we have traveled from New York to Fort Bragg, N.C., for two more Article 32 Hearings, one arraignment, and I believe seven pre-trial 39A Hearings. We have listened as the Defense Counsel attacked Phillip and championed Martinez as being the true victim. We have seen Martinez snuggle with his wife, smile at his children, and yawn while listening to testimony about autopsy photos. We have heard witnesses denounce Phillip for expecting his orders to be carried out. We have listened to Defense Counsel attempt to whittle away our rights as Lou and Phil’s survivors. And all the while Martinez wears the uniform of our country. He receives a paycheck from the government (His pay grade is an E-6. He receives over $4,000 a month between base pay and a $1,300 basic housing allowance.) His Defense Counsel has brilliantly maneuvered through the system by successfully delaying the trial more times than I can keep track of. They ignore deadlines — even deadlines they themselves suggest or agree to — with impunity. Each court proceeding is a nightmare for us, but it doesn’t end in court. Each time we leave, our children are left behind. My boys know I am in the same room as the “soldier” we believe killed their dad. They fear for my own safety. How can I trust the soldiers there who are supposed to protect me if it’s possible for our own soldiers to be the bad guy? Siobhan and I spend day after day comparing notes from the hearings, meeting with anyone we feel may provide insight as to how to finally proceed to trial. Our husbands’ death certificates read “homicide” as the cause of death but say “non-hostile” as well. Their murders fall in the same category as accidental deaths and suicides. They are ineligible for the Purple Heart. There are other aspects of our situation that provide constant strain and test us each day. How can we possibly find a measure of peace when we are compelled to revisit their murders in an endless series of court proceedings and meetings? Lou was my husband. Other than the bond between myself and my children, there is no bond more sacred to me than that between husband and wife. My loyalty to my husband does not end with his death. I cannot simply get back in the work force and leave it up to others to see this through. I cannot attend a court proceeding, drive home, and drop out of touch with the prosecutors as the behind-the-scenes intricacies play out without my knowledge. My children have gut-wrenching questions to ask of me, and I have had to wend my way through the professional world of trauma counselors in order to find help. You see, since my husband did not die in this county, my family is ineligible for county services. Private practitioners dealing in such severe issues are difficult to find. It been a series of struggles and triumphs since my husband was murdered. Through the grace of God and the unwavering support of family and friends as well as our community, the boys and I are putting our lives back together. We have been blessed with a second chance at love and we are taking it. Many people have recently asked me what is going on with the case. It means so much to me to know people still care. We are in yet another delay as we wait for the Government Appellate Division to determine how best to handle an appeal of one of the Judge’s rulings. At the moment the best we can hope for is a late fall or a winter 2009 court martial. I would like to thank each and every person who has supported our families through this. Memorial Day Weekend 2005 was the last time I was with my husband. I will always remember that weekend and what it signified for us. I ask, especially on this Memorial Day weekend, that everyone takes the time to reflect on the sacrifices of the countless soldiers and their families who dedicate their lives in defense of this country. Editor’s note: Barbara Allen is the widow of 1st Lieutenant Louis Allen, who died in Iraq in June 2005. Lou Allen, a native of Chester, N.Y., lived in Milford, and was a science teacher in Tuxedo, N.Y.