SSG Victoria Ryan, U.S. Army (1973-1988)

In early 1978, during my assignment to West Point, I began dating a fellow enlisted soldier, Rodney Helmers, whom I met while I was serving as Charge of Quarters (CQ) one evening. 

I had never had someone of Rod’s personality and temperament in my life.  He was like a breath of fresh air.  To this day, I can honestly say that his kindness, generosity and work ethic were above and beyond any expectations I’d ever had of any man.  There was nothing that he would not do for anyone, if it were within his power.  Rod’s laid-back, even-tempered and compassionate characteristics set him apart.

It almost seemed as if the “opposites attract” adage was at work.  I was an outspoken and opinionated true urbanite more comfortable on the sidewalks of New York than in the great outdoors.  Rod was born and raised on a farm in North Dakota and epitomized the unpretentiousness of a “good old country boy.”

Early that summer, Rod had a vehicle accident which was determined to have been caused by a seizure while driving.  It seemed like a one-off, so I was not overly concerned. 

Rod and I married in a small, private ceremony at West Point in December 1978, followed by a casual reception at the Enlisted Club on-post.  We were subsequently provided enlisted quarters on-post and relocated into a two-bedroom, two-story house.

Because of the seizures that he continued to experience, Rod was prescribed medication, which caused him excessive lethargy after his shift at the Transportation Motor Pool working as a wrecker operator.  Many evenings, Rod would simply collapse on the sofa where he would remain all night.

This began to put a strain on our marriage.  By March 1979, I felt that we were at a crossroads – a breaking point.  Rod had medication adjustments which provided him with more energy and stamina.  Sometimes it felt like an uphill battle, but we both committed to making the journey together to strengthen our love and pursue our future.

In April 1979, I learned that I was pregnant and was granted a pregnancy discharge that June.  Beaming with pride, Rod bragged to everyone he knew about becoming a dad.

Rod’s seizure disorder continued during my pregnancy, and he was admitted to Walter Reed Army Medical Center in Washington, DC for several weeks, where he had a partial thyroid gland removal, military physicians believing his thyroid was the culprit.  This turned out to be untrue.

In January 1980, our son Tommy was born in the newly built Keller Army Hospital at West Point.  Rod was absolutely overjoyed when his hopes for a son were realized.  And, Rod doted on him constantly.  He was a loving, gentle dad and spent a lot of time caring for Tommy.

Rod was subsequently medically discharged from the Army in January 1980, just days after I gave birth.  Less than a year and a half later, I returned to active duty, spent a year at Fort Belvoir, VA and was then reassigned to Holland for three years. 

Although Rod’s medical condition proved restrictive to his employment options, he pursued any and all opportunities, even volunteering to bag groceries at the commissary in Holland for tips, in order to feel contributory to our family’s well-being.

Those three years, although Rod continued to experience seizures, stand as some of the most joyous years of our marriage.  However, toward the end of my assignment, Rod’s medical condition again inserted a wedge between us.

In March 1985, I was reassigned to DA Casualty Operations, working the evening shift.  One evening, I received a phone call from my five-year-old son saying, “Daddy fell down the basement stairs and he won’t wake up.”  I panicked and told Tommy to go next door and tell our neighbor to call 911.  Once again, the seizures had returned.

As heartbreaking as it was, we both agreed to go our separate ways, and Rod returned to North Dakota.  In early February 1987, Rod’s mother called me to report Rod had died.  A co-worker found him at his residence when he did not report for work that morning.  He’d suffered a fatal seizure, which was ruled the cause of death.  Rod had turned 30 the previous August – much too young to have left this world.

I believe that had Rod’s seizure disorder been properly treated and/or eliminated, we would have remained married.  Of all the men I’ve known since that time, absolutely no one has compared to the man that Rodney Dean Helmers was.  My son is his living legacy and each time I look into his face, I always feel a shudder in my heart for all that was lost, yet all that endures.

Read the Military Memories of our Runner-Ups.