An Army couple’s Christmas Eve: Webcam chat from Kabul to Barstow

It was Christmas Eve, and they were at opposite ends of the day, at opposite ends of the world.

At her sprawling military base in the Afghan capital, Kabul, the dark, dusty night had already closed in. At his, outside Barstow, Calif., it was early morning, clear and chilly.

“Are you awake, baby?” said Master Sgt. Kanessa Trent, 38. She moved her computer into position to adjust the webcam. Her regulation Army boots dangled off the edge of her pink-blanketed bunk bed in the cramped prefab quarters she shares with a fellow soldier.

Like thousands of other U.S. servicemen and women, Trent and her husband, Sgt. 1st Class William Trent, are spending the Christmas holidays apart. But they savor these few moments of electronic togetherness, ignoring the 12 1/2 -hour time difference.

Trent is 10 months into her deployment in Afghanistan. When she shipped out in February, her husband stayed in California, where he works at the National Training Center at Ft. Irwin helping troops prepare for Iraq and Afghanistan.

She’s been in the Army for 16 years, and he for 22. In some ways, she says, separation is easier to weather when the spouse also is in the military.

Much can be telegraphed in only a few words. He understands that for reasons of operational security, she can’t always go into detail about where she’s going, what she’s doing, why there might be days when she’s out at a remote base and can’t be in touch.

They talk via Skype -- a program for making calls over the Internet -- three or four times a week. “I always try to be upbeat,” she said. A few times, during rough patches, she avoided using the webcam, because she worried that he would see the stress in her face. But it didn’t fool him.

One such bad stretch came four months ago. On Aug. 15, a suicide bomber struck just outside the gates of Kanessa Trent’s base, NATO’s main headquarters. Seven people were killed and Trent’s barracks was wrecked.

Then, just three days later, she lost a close friend, Master Sgt. Jose Crisostomo, in another suicide bombing. He was on a routine trip to a base on the city’s edge when his convoy was hit. The last time she saw him, he was helping her move out of her damaged quarters.

“That was a hard, hard time,” she said, her vivid dark eyes tearing up at the memory.

On this holiday eve, though, the banter was determinedly light. “Did your Christmas present come?” she asked William, 40, her husband of five years.

“What present?” he said, feigning innocent surprise. Then he pulled out the parcel, grinning and holding it up for the camera.

With her deployment slated to end early in the new year, they hope to be together next Christmas. She expects to be reassigned to her previous post, the Westwood offices of a special Army unit that advises the entertainment industry. Some of that work followed her to Afghanistan; from here in Kabul, she still serves as a technical advisor to the Lifetime television show “Army Wives.”

And they hope their lives will change in other ways in the coming year. He has two teenagers from a previous marriage, but “we want a baby really bad,” Kanessa Trent said.

Even at the most remote bases, the troops generally enjoy a few holiday treats: extra mail deliveries, a special Christmas meal. At headquarters, there were other diversions as well: nighttime caroling by candlelight, a Christmas Eve church service, a “fun run” scheduled bright and early Christmas morning.

But on any holiday, the basic rhythms of military life remain largely the same. After the Skype session, Trent planned to head back to the office, where she supervises a 32-member public affairs team. For most of those on base, Christmas would differ little from any other day.

Lingering over the last of their chat, she and her husband momentarily fell silent.

“I love you,” she finally said.

“I love you,” he answered. “Merry Christmas.”

laura.king@latimes.com