The Care of Navy Wives in Life and Death

One of the many Navy wives I love died recently.

Thinking of her reminded me of another Navy wife whom I never met, whose actions bless me to this day.

It started with a visit to Arlington National Cemetery some twenty years ago, when we rode a tour bus through the prestigious grounds overlooking Washington, DC.

We saw the moving tribute to the tomb of the Unknown Soldier and remembered the slap to Confederate General Robert E. Lee–the property belonged to him during the War of the Northern Aggression.

To retaliate for his defection from the Union Army to the Confederacy, the federal government took over his property and eventually made it into a national cemetery.

Like all military cemeteries, walking among the white tombstones is a sobering affair, and as you gaze across the hillsides watching them climb, the magnitude of men and women who have fought and died for our country can feel overwhelming.

I didn’t know anyone buried in the cemetery until we came to a select circle of individuals who had made their mark on American society, and the bus discharged us for a few moments.

And there I saw the grave of a man whom my husband had met and who had played a strategic role in my personal life: Admiral Hyman Rickover.

We saluted, of course, and then I walked around to the other side and caught my breath. On the back of Admiral Rickover’s tombstone were two other names: those of his first wife, Ruth, with her birth and death dates, and his second, Eleonore.

She’s long been a heroine in a story told to me many years ago.

Admiral Rickover’s Navy wife

My friend Gina was the CO’s wife on a submarine in the 1980s when one of “her” boatwives came down with cancer. I don’t know where the boat was at the time, probably out to sea (they usually were when a crisis hit).

This young enlisted wife’s prognosis was challenging, and that particular year, they sent her to be treated at Bethesda Military Hospital outside of Washington, DC.

She knew no one in the area. She was facing cancer surgery and recovery alone and far from home.

Gina called the one person in the area she knew would help, former Navy nurse and wife of the highest-ranking nuke, Eleonore Rickover.

Gina explained the situation with the young woman and asked Eleonore (I may call her that, right, since she was a friend of a friend and another Navy wife?) if she could arrange for someone to check on her.

Eleonore said of course.

The sailor’s wife came through beautifully, visited every day by a charming woman who cheered her and encouraged her. When the patient was well enough to return home, she asked her helpful visitor, Eleonore, for her address.

Mrs. Rickover had visited and overseen the young woman during her entire stay.

My eyes fill with tears as I type because that’s the way of Navy wives. We go out of our way to help each other–even if the relationship is negligible at best.

Thanks for your example of grace, Eleonore.

The Navy takes care of its own, and so do its wives.

Even in death.

Rest in peace

Standing in Arlington National Cemetery, staring at Admiral Rickover’s tombstone, was the first time I realized that, as a military wife, I, too, could be buried in a national cemetery. It’s a humbling thought.

I haven’t given my life for my country, but I’ve spent a lot of time with men and women who have.

For 20 years, I made sure my husband could go to war if necessary, without worrying about his family.

I’m just glad it never came to that.

Thinking about Arlington National Cemetery and visiting Admiral Rickover’s grave is particularly poignant to me.

“One of my own,” a boat wife from those long ago days on the USS Skipjack, is buried there, too.

Rest in Peace, Patty.

Thank you.

Note: Eleonore Rickover died a peaceful death at home on July 5, 2021.

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