What most people remember of the movie We Were Soldiers are the battle scenes.  It’s real and bloody and scary and there is a lot of death and destruction.  When telling a male friend of mine that I don’t/can’t watch this movie ever again, he reiterated exactly that.  “Ya, it’s pretty gory.” I didn’t even remember that part. What I do remember is watching it and becoming near dehydrated through the tears.  But what made me that way, what caused the ugly, snotty, not-movie-pretty-tears, had nothing to do with the battle scenes. It had everything to do with a different scene.  A scene at home, where Mel Gibson’s character’s wife hears the doorbell.  And walking down the stairs she sees the letter at her door and she almost falls.  And she is crying and telling her kids to go back up stairs when she gets to the door, only to find out the letter is not for her.  And it begins the storyline of this character being the deliverer of these letters to each one of the wives as their husbands are killed in battle.  At least, that’s how I remember the scene and I can’t bring myself to watch it again to confirm I remember it right. So when asked by the media this past month what Remembrance Day means to me, as a military spouse,  that’s what came to my mind.  Not the services.  Not the Poppy’s,  wreaths, cenotaphs or memorials. It’s that moment on the stairs. Because if you are a soldier, it will…