The General's Wife: The Final Betrayal

By Brenda Gantt

I thought I had one of the most secure marriages anyone could have. My husband was rich and successful; he was a retired major general in the army. His career and doing what made him happy were what the two of us aimed for. I had withstood bullying, scoffing, belittling, and "military dressing downs" for

• Language: English
• Publisher: Writers Branding LLC
• Release date: Jun 17, 2021
• ISBN: 9781954341838

Book preview

My Childhood

Iw as born in a small southern town. From the time I can remember, my mother had been a busing me.

I remember when I was about four years old, she had a leather razor strap. I remember exactly what it looked like. It was a little cracked and worn looking with a hole at the end to hang it up. She would beat me at the slightest provocation. I would do my best to be good.

One day I decided to bury the razor strap. I was absolutely terrified. I would watch from my bedroom window every day, thinking a tree would grow with razor straps all on it. My mother asked me if I knew where her razor strap was. With feelings of absolute terror, I would tell her no.

Well, from then on, she would send me out to get a switch. If it was not good enough (it usually wasn’t), she would go get two and put them together and whip me. I would beg and plead with her not to beat me. I honestly do not know why I would get these whippings; I stayed on edge all the time trying to be good.

There was another time when I was around three years old. She and my father were arguing. She put me in the bathroom. She put a blanket in the tub with a pillow. My head was under the spigot. She told me I had to sleep there. I stayed terrified all night that water would come down on my head. It was probably one of the most terrifying times in my life.

Another incident happened during my toddler years. I clearly remember my parents wrestling with a shotgun. I was terrified. I ran to my grandmother’s home to get help. She came back with me, and they all sat down, and she admonished them for scaring me so badly.

My grandmothers were very protective of me. I would go to my paternal grandmother’s at night and would spend the night with her. She lived behind us. She wanted me to be with her all the time. She knew about the violence that occurred in our home. I would try to slip through her yard to play with other children. She would catch me, and I would go in with her. She and I would go through her trunk. She would show me the old tin pictures of her parents and tell me about the Union soldiers coming to her home. She said they were burning homes all around them, but when they came to their house, her mother ran and showed them where there was water for their horses. The soldiers spared their home! She died when I was eight years old.

We moved to the country when I was eleven years old. It was very lonely. I always felt like I didn’t belong at school. When I finally made some friends in high school, I was already in the eighth grade.

I was elated. They would tell me they were having a pajama party on Friday or Saturday night. I would ask Mother, and she would immediately tell me that she would have to think about it. I would become more and more apprehensive as the time for the party drew closer. Finally, I would go very quietly to Mother and ask in a soft voice, Mama, can I go to the PJ party? And she would answer, No, for the simple reason I said no. I would be devastated. She took pleasure in telling me no. Once in a while, I could go. All of the girls were girls I went to church with, and they were from nice families. There were times she would let me go, but I’d stay on pins and needles until the time came for me to go.

Mother would slap me back and forth on my face. I wanted to go out with friends, and I never knew when she would start slapping me.

It was always hard on the face. Her favorite saying was For the simple reason, you can’t.

My maternal grandmother and I were very close. I was with her constantly, and we enjoyed each other so much. I believe my mother was jealous of our relationship. Mother was an alcoholic. She and my father would have altercations. Mother was extremely abusive to me. She would slap me back and forth on my face and tell me she hated me. I vowed to get away, and I ran away and got married when I was only fifteen years old. I thought she can never touch me again.

CHAPTER TWO

My Escape from Home

Mo ther was so nice to me after I got married. She took me to the store and bought me three dresses and bows for my hair. I thought about why she is being nice to me now. One thought stayed in my mind—I would never let her touch me again.

I left with my husband, and we lived with his family. I enrolled in high school in that small town. My grades in school were outstanding, and I had a real sense of pride. I was so happy to help my mother-in- law in the house, cooking for their large family. All of my husband’s family treated me with such kindness and love. I felt like I belonged at last.

I became pregnant at the age of seventeen. I loved my little boy. I took correspondence courses and was able to graduate from high school. My mother paid for me to go to college and took care of my little boy while I was in school. I was so excited about college. Mother sent me to college for two years. She would never let me forget it. She would tell me countless times, You owe me for sending you to college.

I enrolled in college the summer after I graduated from high school. I was elated. I made A’s and some B’s on my courses. I felt inspired. I would hold my baby at night and study whenever I could.

My husband soon became very angry if he saw me studying. I started getting up every morning at 5:00 a.m. to study to keep him from getting mad at me. I kept our home immaculate. I became so excited about getting my college education. Then, my mother said I could not go back. My husband didn’t want me to go to college. I cried for three weeks about not being able to go to school. I found a job at the bank and worked there for nine years.

My husband became very abusive. He would go to bars and come back to try to argue. I did not argue with him, and I tried to keep a low profile. He put his fist through every door we had in our home. I did everything I could to hide the holes in the doors. He didn’t want me to go anywhere with my friends. I remember him telling me that I had to stand over the potatoes that were boiling until they were done. I was scared of his wrath. He didn’t want me on the phone with your high class friends, saying, You think you’re something, don’t you?

One time my girlfriends asked me to go out of town with them. Jonathan told me I had better be home at a certain time. He gave me $5. Later that day, I started getting really nervous and told my friends I had to get back home. I couldn’t be late. Well, we were about an hour late getting home.

Jonathan was furious! He kicked out the glass in my china closet, put his foot through our coffee table, and picked up the TV, threatening to throw it to the ground. I begged him not to do this, and he put it down.

I had another son five years later. My husband would go to the bars more and more frequently. One night, he came home while I was asleep. I suddenly woke up, choking. He was leaning over me blowing smoke up my nose.

I had to pay all the bills with my salary. He paid only the house payment. I had enough money to buy one coke a day. I’d drink half in the morning and half in the afternoon when I was working at the bank. I remember taking my little boy to Sunday school one time. I had no money for shoes for him. It was summer time, and I just said he liked to go barefooted. This was not for long, as I was very careful budgeting my money.

I bought all the furniture for our house. Jonathan would tell me, I can go to my mother’s to eat, I don’t need a phone, etc. Things became progressively worse. He came home one day and started choking me. My oldest son was only about eight years old. He jumped on his back. My son told me years later as a grown man that seeing my husband abusing me really affected him. He said he would stand at the door with a baseball bat from then on when my husband came home. Jonathan would tell him, Yea, your mother told you to do this. I had no idea. It hurt me greatly to know it had affected my son so profoundly.

I lived with my husband for twelve years. We would go once a year with the bank employees to the beach. The bank would pay for a wonderful place for us to stay for the weekend. Everything was first class. One year we and my friends at the bank were walking at night at the beach. Jonathan pushed me in the ocean. I pretended I had fallen. It was very humiliating. I didn’t tell anyone about my situation as I was too scared of him.

The violence and belittling escalated. Jonathan would drink and come in late at night, and he would want to get into a fight which I am just not capable of doing.

One night, he came home drunk. It was about 2:30 a.m. I heard him opening the door, and I went into the living room as I didn’t want my children to hear. He started his usual belittling. Oh, you think you’re so high class, etc. I had no earthly idea what he was talking about.

Mother would come to my house and would want to use my car to go get beer, and I refused to let her have it. It would make her furious with me. This is when she would tell me my two daughters would let me use their car, you owe me. There always some terrible scene going on with her or my first husband and their drinking. My life was becoming more and more