In the corner basement cabinet, I found a mix of belongings: major and lieutenant colonel rank insignia of the old pin-on and sew-on varieties as well as shiny ones for the dress uniform. The red, gold, and white dress uniform unit crest of the 325th Field Hospital, featuring the caduceus (the winged-staff encircled by snakes) of the medical branch, under which run the words “To Fight For Life.” Photos of soldiers in training, wearing the old BDU camo pattern from the ‘80s and ‘90s. A hat for the old green dress uniform. An Army Guard Achievement Medal. A black beret.
Dog tags: STRAUBINGER, DENNIS, serial number, blood type (B-positive), CHRISTIAN.
Dr. Dennis Straubinger was my father-in-law. He served as a doctor for two decades in the Air Force and Army National Guard. He died nearly two years ago. Recently, it was my duty and honor to pack up his military belongings as my mother-in-law prepared to move from Missouri to Spokane, Washington. Dennis bore a lot of responsibility for my enlisting in the Army National Guard and, by extension, for my time in Afghanistan and the writing career inspired by my experiences there.
I first met my in-laws several months after my wife and I started dating in college. Almost immediately after a polite introduction, Dennis said, “So, Trent, I hear you’re going to enlist in the National Guard.”
Wow. Exactly once, I had mentioned to my girlfriend the possibility of enlisting for college money. But I was an English major and an aspiring writer, not a tough-guy soldier.
“Give me your phone number,” Dennis said. “I know a great recruiter.”
Just a few months later, I was in basic training at Fort Leonard Wood, Missouri. Over the years, military service gave my father-in-law and me a more special bond, something to talk about. I always appreciated the insights from his years of experience. Then came 9/11, and soon, I was deployed to Afghanistan. Later, my wife told me that Dennis had worried about me, feeling responsible should I be hurt or killed.
“That’s good,” I half-joked with her. “My enlisting was all his fault.”
My dog tags identify me as a Lutheran, his the less specific and perhaps less formal Christian. In keeping with that lack of formality, Dennis requested he not be given a funeral. Instead, his hospital coworkers held a small memorial a few months after his death. There, his colleagues spoke fondly of how much the man cared about helping people.
His dedication to his work, both in tending to the medical needs of soldiers and in his civilian occupation as a doctor, is indicative of his belief in his unit crest motto: To Fight For Life.
As I packed up the remains of his long military career, I thought about how much I owe the man. My wife and family, my enlistment, my home purchased with the help of the VA home loan program, my writing career, so often inspired by my military experiences. Dennis Straubinger had a profound impact on my adult life, and yet, I don’t think I ever thanked him.
There’s an unspoken code among soldiers. Many of us share a profound connection beyond friendship and family. But we don’t really talk about it. Or maybe I somehow sensed the man’s humility wouldn’t allow him to accept my expressions of gratitude comfortably. Maybe I thought I had more time. Perhaps those are all excuses meant to assuage my guilt.
Fellow veterans and service members, let us take the time to share, with both our military and civilian families, the truth about how much they mean to us, and let’s do this soon, while we still have time.
I won’t see Dennis again in this life, but I’ll be forever grateful to the man for his service to the country and for all he made possible for me and my family.
Trent Reedy served as a combat engineer in the Iowa National Guard from 1999 to 2005, including a tour of duty in Afghanistan.
