Terror

I have been following the news of the bombings in London very closely. Many of the folks that read my blog know that we lived in England from 1996 to 1999, and visited London often. B was in the Air Force, and we were stationed at RAF Mildenhall in Suffolk.

I am planning a meeting in London and will be traveling there in September.

My first thought when all of this came to light, was to want to build a big wall around our farm, keep my loved ones inside and never go out.

But that would be feeding the very definition of terror. And the terrorists would win.

When we lived in England, the U.S. government would issue guidelines for Americans living there. They would remind you that before you started your car, you should walk around it to check for trip wires. They would randomly search cars coming onto the base with mirrors and dogs. A security police officer was positioned on top of a humvee vehicle (sorry, B, I keep forgetting the name of it!) with a big gun, pointed on every single person entering the base. Imagine going for groceries, and passing through a checkpoint where a 22-year-old routinely viewed your infant in his carseat through the scope of an assault rifle. It was very surreal. We had reminders about speaking on the phone and emailing to family back in the States. It was said that the biggest breach of security came about through those conversations being intercepted by the "enemy." The old "loose lips sink ships."

While I understood the necessity of this all, I never got used to it. Some things became routine, however, or just a matter of fact. I remember this one time I was searching for a particular outfit for M. I suddenly remembered that I had packed it in the bag that we were instructed to have ready at all times. We were supposed to be prepared to leave the country with 15 minutes notice.

It was never so noticeable as when I actually moved back to the States. I realized that a huge weight had been lifted. It took me a while before I realized what it was. It wasn't necessarily that it was any safer here, but I felt safer-- it was my home turf. And I was angry with myself because I allowed the terror to take over, at least in some fashion, while I was away.

One thing I remember being particularly frightened by was the nearby proximity of the American Elementary School to our house, when we lived on base. Our housing area was not secure, nor was the school. One time, M was home from school (she went to British school) and we were outside playing, and I saw all of these children running through the housing areas to their houses from the school. I immediately called my neighbor who had children who attended the school. It seems there was a threat made to the base and they sent all of the children home.

One time B went on the base for a late night snack (Cadbury chocolate, his favorite). This was in the days before our family had cell phones! Anyway, he was taking forever. What was typically a 20 minute trip turned into nearly 2 hours. I was worried sick. Come to find out, the shoppette was evacuated and the base locked down, and he was unable to come back home until "Threatcon Bravo" resumed. Seems there was a car parked outside of the base, but near enough to the shoppette to be worrisome, so they closed it down. If I remember right, he didn't even get the chocolate. ; )

We aren't safe anywhere, I suppose even at home. And I know that. I just didn't need to be reminded today.