I don’t come from a military family and didn’t serve in the military, so the world that Sarah Peachey created for me was like a foreign country: unfamiliar rules, customs, and rhythms wrapped around the familiar devotion to family. I expected scenes of combat, and they were served up vividly, but counterbalanced by all-too believable periods of hurry-up-and-wait.

However, The Whispers of War was really about how war impacts families. The meat of this story takes place in what the Greatest Generation called The Homefront. This isn’t the World War II era when combat troops were welcomed home by parades, nor the Viet Nam era when they were treated with hostility. This is the post-911 era, when troops returned while the rest of the country was out at the mall.

Ms. Peachey’s book provides an intimate portrait of a family whose priorities have always revolved around the career of Sergeant Robert Pechman—frequent moves, reconfiguring during Dad’s absence, readjusting after a return from deployment, girding oneself for the next deployment. Robert’s daughter, Anna, hates war—not the military—because of what constant preparation for war has done to her family: sacrificing one’s own needs for the sake of morale, putting on a good face, stuffing down her own disappointment. And that’s even before the real, gut-wrenching trauma of war invades her home.

The most vivid scenes—the ones that literally brought tears to my eyes—were of leaving and returning. They were so realistic that I know in my heart that the author has experienced them first-hand. In between these bookends, Anna struggles to find her own path, still devoted to family but trying to make sense of a world that has no understanding of the sacrifices that all members of a military family make. “It’s what no one ever talks about. We smile and say all the right things about patriotism and honor and duty, but behind the scenes, we’re suffering.”

And that is the big gift of this book. This glimpse into the foreign country will forever change my response to a new acquaintance who glibly describes himself or herself as an army brat. Although it would be trite and hollow to say “thank you for your service,” I will approach that person with a respect for what they have sacrificed so my family and I can live in safety.