“Thank You for Your Service”

When most civilians see the camouflage uniform of the military, the words “thank you for your service” come to their mind. At many stores, military discounts are a perk specifically for those serving their nation. Holidays like Memorial Day and Veterans Day honor those who chose the path of dutiful sacrifice to their country. 

Over a million people have chosen this line of sacrificial service, with millions of fellow family members standing behind them. As a daughter of the military, my experiences lead me to understand more about military service than many people my age. My father has served for almost 25 years, and I’ve served alongside him for over 16 of them. Of course, my service does not equate to his, but the sacrifice to my nation is an evident part of my childhood. 

I can’t count the days the military has sent my father away. The answer would reach to over a thousand: over a thousand days where he’s been deployed and gone from home, where I experienced life without my father readily beside me. While my dad sacrifices by pushing through exhaustion and serving his nation overseas, I am sacrificing back home. 

I’m sacrificing the want to grow up with my dad always around me. I’ve known that I’ll never guarantee that he’ll be able to make it to a swim meet or piano recital, never have a conversation where I fully understand what’s going on in his mind, and never know everything he’s been through because “classified” surrounds much of what he does. I sacrifice by accepting that my father won’t be home every day. And I serve my nation through what I do back home, working to lift as much stress off my mom - who is forced to be a single parent for my sister and me - as much as I can. 

Within this military world, loss is widely prevalent, for both those who serve and their dependents. My father serves this nation and his fellow soldiers by remembering those who never come home. He experiences sacrifice through knowing the danger and experiencing the grief of this line of service, but continuing to put himself out there for this nation. I know the danger too; my nightmares fearing the earth-shattering knock on the door late one night. 

And I experience loss - not to the same extent, but still the loss of friendships. I know the pain of saying goodbye to someone who majorly impacted my life and the knowledge that our lives will most likely go separate ways. While my father grieves for lives that could’ve been lived further, I grieve for friendships that could’ve grown deeper and wider - the people I’ve had to say goodbye to. As my father serves his nation however and wherever the military requires of him, I serve too, sacrificing friendships and potential memories through supporting my father’s service. 

About every one to two years, my father switches jobs. He’s been a battalion commander, a Division G-3, a student in the ASLSP War College Fellowship, a teacher at the SAMS, and a COG in the MCTP - five jobs, all in just the last seven years, and he will change jobs again soon. It’s the stability of instability. 

While he’s been adding to this seemingly unending list of jobs representing his dutiful service to the United States military, I’ve been busy stitching together curricula from nine different schools. As my father serves, I’ve sacrificed a life built upon a solid, unchanging foundation through accepting the inevitability of change. 

Through my 16 and a half years, I have come to love the smell of new boxes and freshly cleaned uniforms, the peacefulness of base, and the crackling of the bugle over the loudspeakers every evening at exactly 1700. I don’t bat an eye when military acronyms are thrown around, or when I hear the deep bellow of a platoon calling cadence in the distance. The camouflage is security; the cookie-cutter houses are home. 

I live a life characterized by a strong military presence, a life that only the other kids on the block truly understand. Yet, I’m open to answering questions and helping others discover what it means to grow up surrounded by the military. I’ll freely explain that I’m not one to pity; that we don’t just survive, but are capable of thriving in this environment. I’ll tell them that I’m a daughter of the Army, share the story of one who loves this life she lives, and exclaim that I’m proud of my father for his service. 

But still, when asked the question, “Will you serve too?” I experience hesitation. Though the pang of long-distance calls filled with static, the knowledge that “best friends forever” can mean very little when each life gets filled with other people and activities. With the struggle to regrow my roots with every transition, it feels like I already serve. It’s not the same as my father, but I’m still here, quietly sacrificing for my nation. So will I serve? Well, my mother and father served so I don’t have to. But really, I've been serving this whole time.