Nick and Tasha Sprovtsoff
As Tasha inched her way closer to the computer keyboard she peered out the living room window. Her soft brown eyes and huge smile welcomed the morning. It was almost eight, the sun was up, and there was just a hint of Southern California autumn in the air. At thirty-six weeks pregnant, a yoga exercise ball, rather than a chair, offered a modicum of relief for the lower back and hip pain she was experiencing. This morning she would sacrifice comfort to share her excitement. She logged on . . . September 29 . . . hoping her husband, Staff Sergeant Nick Sprovtsoff, was also logged on and they could Facebook chat. He was in his sixth month of a seven-month combat deployment and she was counting the days until his return.
A hero’s resting place at Arlington National Cemetery. Tasha Sprovtsoff
On Wednesday she attended a wives briefing and it looked like Nick would be returning before “Tank” was born. Wanting to be surprised, Tasha wouldn’t ask the doctor the sex of their second child. Before Lanie, their precious fourteen-month-old daughter, was born Nick called her Tank, convinced they were having a boy. He dropped the nickname once he learned she was a girl but for a reason known only to Nick, he nicknamed her “Tuna.” For now Tank would remain Tank unless he turned out to be a girl, then Nick could come up with a new nickname.
Tasha learned at the briefing Nick’s replacement team was leaving that week, so it was only a matter of days before he’d be breaking down camp preparing to return home. Her original due date was October 23 but now the doctor was revising it to November 2. Nick would be with her for Tank’s arrival!
When she determined Nick wasn’t logged on she sent out a few emails telling friends Nick was coming home within weeks.
Tasha was eager to show her husband the house she had rented a few months earlier, just outside Camp Pendleton’s back gate. It was in a nice neighborhood and offered a lot more room than the house they first rented when they moved to Oceanside a year and a half earlier. Besides, it was mold-free, a condition the previous landlord had no interest in correcting. The new landlord was a lot nicer, and the house was feeling like home even though a few boxes still needed to be unpacked.
The doorbell rang. It seemed too early for UPS, but she got up from the computer and made her way toward the front door, dodging the toys she failed to pick up the night before. While she was usually a meticulous housewife, pregnancy and playing the role of a single parent to an active toddler were taking their toll.
Dressed in a maternity top, a worn-out pair of Nick’s Marine Corps sweat pants, and his Moosehead hoodie, she wasn’t quite ready to receive company.
Nick and Tasha. Tasha Sprovtsoff
Tasha peered through the security peephole and saw six men in uniform: two Marines, a Navy chaplain, and three Navy corpsmen. She recognized John, a MARSOC (Marine Corps Forces Special Operations Command) EOD technician who served with Nick. Because she was still celebrating the news Nick might make it home before the baby was born, for a fleeting moment she thought the men were delivering good news. Then reality gripped her as her heart began to ache and her stomach knotted. This wasn’t good news; this was a notification team!
As if somehow she could escape the news she was about to receive, she hesitated in opening the door. Her hand trembled as she reached for the doorknob, hoping beyond hope the men would be gone when she opened the door . . . they weren’t.
“How are you doing today, ma’am?”
“I don’t think I’m doing very well. I don’t want to see you,” she said, trying to maintain her composure but knowing her emotions were about to erupt.
“I know you don’t, ma’am.”
Tasha began to shake and John grabbed her elbow as the Marine escorted her to the couch, tears now flooding her face. “This can’t be right; we’re going to have a baby and we don’t even know if it’s a boy or girl.”
The men offered comfort but she can’t recall their exact words since the shock of the news blocked out much of what was said. Nick had been killed a day earlier but for a reason she still doesn’t understand the men arrived first thing in the morning rather than the previous night.
A million thoughts consumed her. She knew the risks. She and Nick talked about it before each deployment but somehow she never believed she would get “the visit.” Nick was too good at his job. He was a highly respected and highly decorated Marine. It was his experience and expertise that comforted her daily. She never dwelled on death because Nick shared so little of what he was doing, always bringing a sense of calm in their conversations. But in the back of her mind darkness lingered; she knew too many in this war who had sacrificed their lives and limbs.
After collecting herself as much as she could, which she admits wasn’t much, Tasha asked, “What now?”
John questioned if there was anyone she would like to call to be with her.
She called friends Brittany and Amy but both calls went to voice mail. She wanted to call her mom but knew the Marines wanted someone to come over immediately. She thought about her friend Dana, but her husband, Thomas, had returned home that morning from his deployment and Tasha couldn’t ruin their special day.
She searched her mind trying to come up with another name but her mind was awash with thoughts of Nick and Lanie and the baby growing inside her. She needed to process what was being asked of her, focusing on the immediate. She couldn’t grieve as others might; she needed to protect Tank. “Stay calm, remember the baby,” she thought as she tried to come up with the name of another friend who could help. The Marines weren’t pushing, willing to stay as long as it took, but she wanted a friend right now . . . she needed a friend!
Then the phone rang. It was Brittany, the wife of Purple Heart recipient Jeff Rodriguez. Nick and Jeff went to EOD school together and were now stationed at Camp Pendleton. The couples were best friends and Brittany loved Lanie, always welcoming the opportunity to hold her. Brittany was out the door before ending the call.
Now a Gold Star wife, a distinction no one seeks, Tasha called her mom and in between tears said, “Nick was killed yesterday.”
“What?” asked her mom.
Tasha repeated the news.
“We’re on our way” was all her mother said and the conversation ended. Tasha had heard what she needed to hear. By seven o’clock that night, Tasha’s family rallied from Washington State, Colorado, and Nevada.
Her Marine Corps family rallied as well. Jesseca Meyer, whose husband, Brian, came home early from his deployment having left an arm, a leg, and several fingers in Afghanistan, arrived by midafternoon and fixed dinner as family and friends crowded into the home.
When you think of a combat-tested Marine who was awarded a Bronze Star with valor, the Purple Heart, a Navy–Marine Corps Achievement Medal with valor, the Army Commendation and Army Achievement medals, and two Combat Action Ribbons, you think high school football star, all-state wrestler, or rugby player. Seldom does a high school tennis player and varsity bowler come to mind, but don’t be fooled by the freckles and mischievous ear-to-ear grin. Nick Sprovtsoff was a true warrior. The medals were awarded by the military but the highest accolades came from the Marines he knew and with whom he served, who described him as a “consummate professional,” a “man’s man,” and a “Marine’s Marine.”
Bill Tenny, Nick’s best friend while growing up in Davison, Michigan, a Flint suburb, called Nick “smart, competitive, and somewhat of an adrenaline junkie.” He enjoyed snowboarding, dirt biking, and competitive paintball. Nick was a high school entrepreneur with his own lawn care service and snow removal business. Never afraid of hard work, he spent summers working for a construction company and always welcomed a challenge. Driven to be the best, he wanted to win, never wasting time complaining about how difficult a task was. Even in high school he was mission-focused. When he thought about his immediate future, he wanted to be a Marine and it seemed like a perfect fit.
Tasha, the oldest of four children, was born in Colville, Washington, a small town sixty-five miles north of Spokane, near the Canadian border. Her family’s financial success wasn’t immediate. She lived with her parents and three siblings in a double-wide mobile home until she was nine, when the family moved to a much larger house, reflecting her parents’ hard work and subsequent success. A straight-A student in high school, Tasha was captain of the school’s dance team. She then earned a degree in graphic design from the Art Institute of Seattle.
Engaged to her high school sweetheart, she broke off the relationship shortly before the wedding. Wanting to get on with life and away from some bad memories, she took her sister’s advice. Elizabeth was going to college in Montana and Tasha moved in, finding work in retail sales. When Tasha expressed her frustration one evening on the phone when a promised job in management hadn’t materialized, her mom mentioned a graphic design position with the Yellow Pages in Hawaii. The thought of moving to Oahu and working in her chosen field intrigued the twenty-three-year-old, who soon relocated.
The new job was demanding, with long hours and plenty of work. Tasha had been on the island about a year and a half and dated some, but no one had held her interest for long. Her sister Alaina also moved to Hawaii and the two spent what little free time Tasha had exploring Honolulu’s nightlife.
Nick and Tasha celebrate at the annual Marine Corps Birthday Ball. Tasha Sprovtsoff
One evening she and her sister were at Nashville Waikiki, one of their favorite hangouts, a country-western bar in the heart of Waikiki. Tasha noticed a ruggedly handsome guy on the other side of the bar. There was a just a hint of auburn hair in his military-style cut, and at six feet two, 210 pounds, he carried himself as confident but not cocky. Throughout the evening she caught him glancing her way. Tasha kept waiting for him to make the first move but he never did, even though the furtive glances continued. She was standing close to the restrooms and when Nick suddenly exited the men’s room, she grabbed his arm and introduced herself. The stalemate was broken and by the end of the evening he invited her to the Marine Corps Birthday Ball the next weekend.
Nick, a crew chief on an amphibious assault vehicle, later admitted he went to the bar hoping to find a date for the ball and ended up with a wife.
Tasha was putting in twelve-, fourteen-, even twenty-hour days with her graphic design job and was at the point of exhaustion. Shortly after agreeing to go to the ball, she told her mom’s best friend she was thinking of canceling the date but Evelyn encouraged her to go. “This could be the guy you’re going to marry,” she told Tasha.
Her first Marine Corps Birthday Ball was an occasion to remember; the Marines in their dress blues, women dressed to the nines, ceremony, tradition, and lots of alcohol. Even though it was their first date, Nick kept introducing her as his girlfriend and she liked the title. Within two weeks of dating she knew there was something different about this one; he was a gentleman who treated her like a lady and she was in love.
Nick had two previous combat deployments to Iraq and they both knew a third one was in the future. By now she was telling her parents about the macho Marine she’d been dating for several months. When they came to Hawaii to celebrate Tasha’s birthday, they met their future son-in-law for the first time. Though he was bruised and battered from the Marine Corps martial arts program, they welcomed him with open arms.
He was in love as well. There was the obvious physical attraction but Nick was impressed by a work ethic they both shared. Life as a Marine Corps wife isn’t easy, the “toughest job in the Marines,” if you believe the bumper stickers. He needed to prepare Tasha for the hardships they could be facing. Ours was a nation at war and there was the constant training in preparation for the next deployment; long periods of separation were a certainty. They both knew the moments they would have together needed to be valued. Every word needed to be said and every kiss needed to be given because the times together would be far too brief. She said it then as she says it now: “I’d rather have five minutes with you than a lifetime with anyone else.”
Although Tasha was ready to spend the rest of her life with Nick, he wanted to make sure the relationship could withstand a deployment. They had been dating about a year when he left for Afghanistan.
Called an Embedded Training Team, or ETT, the Marines served as mentors molding Afghan soldiers into disciplined military units capable of conducting counterinsurgency operations. In forming the teams, the Marines drew experienced officers and noncommissioned officers from a variety of military occupational specialties. Nick had proven himself in previous deployments and was selected for a team.