War veteran comes home to marry Columbia Falls woman battling tumor

Story by DAVE REESE / Special to the Inter Lake

Late last week, Army Staff Sgt. Josh Caldwell headed back to war in Afghanistan.

But for three weeks of military leave he enjoyed some peace and relaxation. He even got married.

Caldwell was married on a bright, sunny afternoon Oct. 19 at BruMar Estate in Bigfork. The wedding was a small but intimate ceremony, and his daughter, Tatiana, was the maid of honor.

The ceremony was a bright spot for Caldwell, a Chinook helicopter crew member. In Afghanistan, Caldwell helps run a helicopter unit that is responsible for transporting troops, supplies and casualties.

He's on his second tour of duty in Afghanistan after already serving 13 months in the Iraq war.

Staff Sgt. Caldwell, 26, is a quiet man of few words who carries an understated sense of duty to the Army. Back in Mississippi he once won a state power-lifting title, and his arms show it. A few inches under 6 feet tall, he has a powerful stature and an intense focus in his eyes.

On leave, Caldwell touched the lives of many people around him. Those who saw his strength and resolve sometimes were brought to tears, as was Marty Stuehler, who performed the Caldwells" wedding ceremony.

"I want to be on your ship when it's time," said Stuehler, a military veteran of the Vietnam era, as tears welled up in his eyes.

Caldwell married Crystal Vasquez, a Columbia Falls native who faces her own battle: a benign, inoperable brain tumor. She fights the vertigo and blurred vision that comes and goes, but she tries not to let it bother Josh, who has his own worries about fighting a war. The couple learned about Crystal's medical situation four hours before he left for his second deployment in Afghanistan.

"He's making a difference over there and is making it better for a lot of people," she said. "He's my everything. He's my hero. He's taught me to be a better person."

His leave in Montana took some getting used to.

During an interview at a Kalispell coffee house, Caldwell seemed on edge and ready to pounce, but by the end of his stay he seemed a bit more relaxed. He watched as his daughter celebrated her sixth birthday at a party at Pizza Hut in Columbia Falls.

"It's overwhelming to be here," he said. "I'm just hyper-sensitive to everything."

And for good reason.

Afghanistan is covered with unexploded ordnance left by the Russians in past wars. (The Army pays locals to bring in land mines, and once a young child brought in a live cluster bomb, Caldwell said.)

In Afghanistan he also has to worry about improvised explosive devices and rocket-propelled grenades. "It's a high-stress environment," he said. "You don't know what's going to happen."

Sometimes soldiers relieve stress by playing Guitar Hero or enjoying a game of flag football on the hard ground.

Caldwell wouldn't drive while he was in Montana. He's a bit unnerved from being around cars in Afghanistan, whose drivers he compares to "demo rally racers."

Working seven days a week, he faces constant stress from always having to be on high alert. With the stress of long days and fighter planes coming and going, sleep can be hard to come by. Hard work is the best sleep aid, says Caldwell, a Mississippi native.

"I just go until I'm exhausted," he says.

Some soldiers, with the help of energy drinks, never sleep, he said.

As he hangs out a door in the bottom of a gigantic Chinook helicopter, it's Caldwell's job to ensure that missions come off smoothly, whether it's hooking up a 12,000-pound sling load of live ammunition being carried to a forward operating base or hauling out a downed helicopter.

His station is at the rear ramp of the helicopter, where he also operates a machine gun during flight.

A good sense of hearing helps him survive. He knows what sounds different rockets make. The Russian rockets make a high, whistling sound when they come in, and when you hear that sound it's time to hit the deck " though in the desert there's not always a lot of cover.

Roadside bombs are a constant threat. Caldwell said he has seen improvised explosive devices fashioned out of fluorescent light bulbs, nails and discarded batteries and he has learned that you don't throw anything away that could be used for an IED " even an old iPod.

Pilots always try to land the helicopters where there's plenty of traffic, a reassurance that land mines aren't around.

His job of helping maintain the double-rotor Chinook helicopters is an important one. "One washer missing could kill up to 36 people," he said in his quiet, Southern accent.

Caldwell sees progress in the war against the Taliban in Afghanistan, sometimes termed "the Forgotten War." The Americans and allies are helping train the Afghan police and military forces in fighting the Taliban.

"We just keep doing what we're doing and hopefully everything will clear up," he said. "Hopefully one day it will be as good as it is in Iraq. It takes time for them [Afghan people] to believe maybe everything they've been told all their lives wasn't true.

"We all want it to be over, but we all have our jobs, our missions."

CALDWELL WAS scheduled to return to military duty on Halloween day. But his wife's condition worsened that week as she fought bouts of vertigo and blurred vision caused by the tumor next to her brain. Caldwell was able to secure another week of leave to care for his family.

Still, Crystal said she worries about causing more stress for Josh. "We've learned how to adapt and I've learned how to be a military wife," Crystal said. "I try to stay positive. And I pray a lot."

Her condition fluctuates. She has good days and bad days.

When he comes home, Caldwell sees that life has pretty much moved on without him. His daughter gets bigger by the day, it seems.

"This entire year she's changed so much," Josh said of Tatiana, 6. "Every time I come home I have to start all over " she's learned how to read."

For Crystal, 26, it's hard being married to a man who is gone for months at a time, fighting a war in a dangerous, distant land.

But theirs is a love affair forged by trust, tight bonds and hope " hope that one day they'll get to spend all their days together, not just a spate of 18-day military leaves.

Keeping a marriage alive during war is difficult, and Josh said many of the helicopter pilots who are on their third or fourth tours of duty are trending toward divorce.

"A lot of the families don't make it through several deployments," he said.

Keeping the romance alive takes some creativity, but the Internet helps. The couple share "date nights" via Web cams or they watch a movie together online, and holiday dinners are shared via the Internet.

"We did Christmas by laptop," Crystal said.

They "bought" a star in the sky so little Tatiana can look at it and know that, somewhere, her father is looking at it, too.

"That way we know we're all together under the same moonlight," Crystal said.

The military commitment affects both sides of the family. Crystal's brother had to leave the couple's wedding ceremony when he was called back into action " an hour before Josh and Crystal were to exchange vows.

Although he got a week's reprieve from the war, Josh knew he had to go back. "I'll be sad to go, but excited knowing I'll get to come back," Josh said. "It's always difficult to leave."

A devoted father, Josh knows he must come home " for his wife and for his daughter who, during a mock lockdown at the Columbia Falls elementary school she attends, told her classmates:

"Daddy will come save us."