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Video-vow bride back home

Hubby's still in Iraq, and in her heart

This story appeared in the Antelope Valley Press on Monday, May 9, 2005.

By ALISHA SEMCHUCK
Valley Press Staff Writer

LITTLEROCK - Shadow has returned.

Shadow Everton, nee Evans, and husband Rick Everton made nationwide headlines when they recited their wedding vows during a video-conference ceremony in June, seeing each other's faces on satellite screens.

She is now visiting her parents, Randi and Al Evans, in their Littlerock home. The 1991 Quartz Hill High School graduate set foot on U.S. soil Feb. 10 in Massachusetts, after spending roughly a year in war-torn Iraq. She came back wearing her wedding and engagement rings, purchased in Kuwait.

Technically, the Evertons can celebrate their upcoming first-year anniversary on two dates - June 11 and 12, a result of the International Dateline.

Shadow said "I do" from a U.S. military base in the Sunni Triangle on June 12, while her groom declared his love and commitment from a hotel room in Durango, Colo., on June 11, to which he had driven with her parents. At that time, California prohibited proxy marriage.

On Sept. 10, California Gov. Arnold Schwarzenegger signed into law Senate Bill 7, which amended the California Family Code pertaining to marriage, allowing members of the armed forces stationed overseas and serving in war to marry by proxy if they are unable to attend the ceremony in the United States.

Randi and Al Evans said they were overwhelmed with emotion when their daughter came home - when they finally had the opportunity to hug her and hold her close. More than anything, they said, they could finally relax after one long, tense year.

"We were very relieved," Al Evans said. "In a situation like Iraq … there were major casualties." They realized at any moment "something could happen. It's a fairly dangerous place. And, it's so random. There are not any real battlefronts. Anybody is fair game.

"We're a fairly religious family. We put her in the Lord's hands to watch over her during her service. We were blessed."

Staff Sgt. Shadow Everton, a Canoga Park native, likewise is grateful to be back in America. Despite 12 years of military training, she said nothing could have fully prepared her for the destruction in Iraq.

Everton considered her tasks reasonably easy compared to troops on the front line - as easy as those tasks could be with mortar fire closing in. Armed with basic emergency medical technician training, she supervised clinic guards who oversaw Iraqi workers.

It's not so much what she endured, she said, but the devastation others suffered that frequently replays in her mind.

When she first arrived at Camp Cook in late February 2004, she found few creature comforts. Then again, she said she didn't really expect electricity, etc. Military personnel adapt readily.

During her stay, the camp 40 miles north of Baghdad underwent a name change to Al Taji Air Base, and more accommodations were built.

"It's one of the nicer areas," Everton said. "It built up while we were there. Eventually we got generators. We had air-conditioning in our rooms when our building was finished."

In February, air-conditioning serves little purpose in Iraq. Daytime temperatures hover around 60 degrees Fahrenheit. Nighttime temperatures drop to 30 or 40 degrees.

Growing up in the California desert from age 13, Everton thought she could take the heat; summer in Iraq taught her otherwise. Temperatures on the hottest day reached 155 degrees. Typical days averaged between 130 and 140 degrees.

"You could walk outside some days and feel your skin start to burn," she said.

"You drink a lot of water - five liters a day easily. That's all you could do. People (who) don't go into convulsions."

One day she didn't drink enough. She began shaking, got dizzy and dragged herself into the clinic. Attendants administered three liters of water intravenously.

"We had people brought in completely passed out," she said.

Everton and the 68 people in her unit - there were 300 in her battalion - coped with the discomfort.

But they never found any comfort level when it came to fear.

"We were in Taji about a month and a half before our first mortar hit." After that, the attacks came routinely. The lump in her throat, her pounding heart and her sweaty palms never abated.

"One day we were hit by 14 rockets, one after another. They all landed in a five-minute period. The building next door was hit by mortar. It bounced off the wall, hit the ground and made a 5-foot hole."

Everton said her building shook with such force that she thought "earthquake." A man standing 1½ feet away suffered a ruptured ear drum. "He was damn lucky," Everton said. "Everybody was. That was scary. That was a little too close to home that day.

"The first fatality we had to deal with was an American soldier. It hurt our unit to see the American flag come in."

She pointed to her upper arm, as if she was in military uniform and wearing a patch. "That's what made it real for us. He was a 23-year-old guy. He had only been in the country three days. God blessed our battalion. No deaths. People had some severe injuries, but they will walk again. Three people in my unit got purple hearts.

"I've pulled little chunks of shrapnel out of people's backs."

She said a group of Iraqi nationals had just lined up outside the gate for work. A suicide bomber exploded his car a few hundred yards away. Guards rushed over to the cloud of black smoke and flames - reacting exactly as the terrorists expected.

Meanwhile, another motorist drove up to the gate where the Iraqi nationals were waiting to enter. The driver left his car, crossed the street and pushed a button.

"About 20 casualties came into our clinic that day," she said.

Everton still jumps when she hears loud noises or bangs. Fireworks have lost their flare. If she never sees the sky light up in sparkles again, she said, it would be too soon.

"I think a lot of my stuff has to do with him (her husband) being there still. I think once he's home, I'll calm down a lot."

Her husband is stationed in Iraq. He was deployed shortly after they pledged to spend the rest of their lives together.

When Sgt. Rick Everton completes his tour in November and returns to civilian life, he plans to go back to work as a department of corrections officer in Cape Cod. Shadow Everton has contemplated furthering her emergency medical training to become a paramedic.

"We'd also like to have a child. So I'll either be a mother or an EMT. One or the other. He needs a girl. He needs to have Daddy's little girl."

They have a ready-made family, with his two sons from a former marriage. Everton said Timmy, 6, and Nick, 5, are "great boys. Timmy looks just like his father."

Everton just learned that they have an apartment waiting in Massachusetts. Though she cherishes the time she has with her parents, she said she's anxious to get back to Massachusetts and decorate the apartment for her husband's welcome home.

Her initial plans changed from that day 12 years ago when she enlisted in the military. She thought she'd stick it out for 20 years, then retire. She enjoyed military life - the friendships that formed, the sense of bonding.

The realities of war altered her plans.

"You're always on the lookout, always on the edge of your seat. I know we have to be there."

Everton said U.S. troops are working hard and doing a great job. Many Iraqis have expressed their gratitude.

But now she longs for a "normal life" - the husband, the kids and the white picket fence.

When her husband gets back, they will return to Southern California to take their vows before family and a few friends. And drink champagne. And eat cake.

This time, instead of jeans and a sweater, the bride looks forward to wearing a white wedding gown, marching down the aisle and standing beside her groom when she says, "I do."

asemchuck@avpress.com