I watched the coverage of the evacuation of Lebanon on TV a couple of weeks ago. Felt that touch of relief as the Marines held the beaches. Felt the nibble of elation as our amphibious ships swung into place with their well decks down, welcoming those boats full of desperate people.

I was glad to see the military I signed up for in the news again. I’ve missed it so during the last few months of the war. Because this kind of pure humanitarian action is what I wish my military could do constantly. I’d like them to be dashing in and rescuing innocent people all the time. Every day. In between earning money for college and walking cobblestone streets in Rome, in my little mind our servicemembers should be swooping around rescuing people.  Even if folks don’t really need rescuing, we should send a Marine or two out there just to be sure. 

My husband knows I think this way. When I talk about the military like it is a benevolent training camp for boys-to-men and girls-to-women, he sighs. Because that isn’t the military he signed up for. I think he signed up to be Joe Healthcare Benefits and Retirement Income Man.  He thinks he signed up to be John Wayne going down on the burning ship in “In Harm’s Way.”  

Or maybe that’s a little over the top.  Maybe he signed up to be the guy who would rather be planning evacuations of embassies and figuring out how to provide clean water to an entire ship than managing a cardboard box manufacturing plant.   Even if someone might be planning to bomb a hole in the side of his workspace.

Either way, our expectations of military life and our definitions of an acceptable level of risk are completely different. We pretend they are not -- that’s part of the bargain in military marriage. We pretend to be on the same page on what the mission of the military really is. That’s OK during peacetime.

But the war draws our expectations into very sharp conflict. The closer you are to Iraq, the sharper the conflict. What a welcome respite to be on the same page for once.

I just had to know what that would be like, so I called the ombudsman for USS Nashville, Cammie Davidson.  She told me that the Nashville families were a little nervous at the beginning of the action. Then they saw the ship on TV evacuating Americans.

“Everybody is so full of pride,” Cammie says. “It’s really gelled our families—we’re all in it together. The wives are calling one another. They are so excited, so thrilled with the positive press. Did I mention we’re proud?”

Yeah, I got that part. I couldn’t talk to the woman for an instant without understanding their pride in their sailors. Cammie told me that her husband CS1 Rodney Davidson couldn’t get over how grateful and kind the evacuees were.  Because the ship is completely cash free, Cammie said that sailors and Marines were wiping out their cash cards buying candy and sodas for the kids on board.  Her husband  even made chicken tenders for a little girl they put in their last stateroom because he knew his little girl, Hailey, would have wanted chicken tenders, too.

“I think the men and women on board look into the faces of these kids and see their own children,” Cammie adds. “He was able to help out these people when they needed him the most. I think I’d rather have him there helping out the people in need than having him home.”

Cha-ching. What a feeling that must be. I envied her for having it. I think a lot of military spouses would envy this moment when the families of those servicemembers are sure -- really sure -- that this is exactly the right thing for them to be doing.  That you’d rather they were in the military that doing anything else. 

This is the good stuff. Our Marines and sailors train and plan for this kind of mission every bit as much as they plan to fight war. They do their swooping into harm’s way knowing exactly what they have to do and how to do it. The job gets done and it stays done. 

But that kind of pure mission has been  uncommon in the last couple of years. Our military folks don’t get the luxury of being so sure that their actions are exactly right in Iraq and Afghanistan. That job isn’t so clear cut. That job doesn’t stay done.  But it is still their job. And our job at home to wait and watch, so proud.