My grandfather was a WWII veteran. He landed on Omaha beach with his unit on D-Day. I finally got to hear his stories of being a soldier, slowly one at a time starting about two years before he died of emphysema. Several years after his death, recalling a story for my husband is when Memorial Day started to have meaning for me.
As my understanding, pride and respect for those who serve grew so did my patriotism. I started to get angry at those that I saw who didn’t stop at 1700 when they retired the colours for the day. Ft Lee, VA is a training base (not all bases do this) so every morning and every evening you would hear the cannon fire and revelry or taps play. If you were outside, it is expected that you face the sound of the cannon (or where the flag was if you knew) and waited at attention or with your hand over your heart for the ceremony to finish. If you were driving, you are expected to pull over, get out of the car and do the same. I just wanted to smack these people who tried to cut up side roads in the hope of no one noticing what time it was as paying respect for the flag was “inconvenient” for them. I started getting rebellious and would park the car more into the road and stepped out into traffic if someone didn’t pull over.
When Memorial Day really hit home for me was that day, that blood curdling, bad temper evoking day on September 11, 2001. My life changed, our lives changed, nothing was what it was. I now had to change the way I drove to work, make my driving patterns erratic to stave off being a possible target. Now I have to remove my shoes and x-ray them at the airport. Now I have to read about my friends and relatives who were lost as a casualty of war in Iraq and Afghanistan.
In an effort to do something for those that serve, I became a mini version of Lady Liberty, “Give me your tired, your hungry….anybody that needed a ride between one post and the next who were dressed in desert uniforms.” I made it a habit to offer strange men rides as the waited at the bus stop. I convinced the hubby one night to give a ride to this poor Major who was walking with a cane, struggling to get his luggage off the belt and at midnight was wandering around Frankfurt airport in woodland BDUs. This man was recalled to active duty. He was medically retired to Israel and had to get back to somewhere on the East coast to report in. This was right after a bunch of violent protests had gone on outside of Rhein-Main airport right next to Frankfurt airport. We made sure he got to Rhein-Main without incident.
Beyond that I went to work in the ID card section. Since I was supervising I got the emergency missions at all hours of the day and night. These are critical folks that need to get back on a MEDAVAC flight but can’t manifest unless they have an ID card. One soldier that broke my heart but had me laughing at the same time reinforced why we have Memorial Day.
On a last minute manifest I had two pictures emailed to me to produce cards. Their notice of what flight they were taking was really short. So I was driven out to the flight line and got to crawl around a C-140 looking for these guys to have them sign their ID card. As I am calling out the names, listening for a “here” or a hand move I spot my first person. His arm is in a cast but he signed it pretty well cast and all. The second fellow was on the litter right below. He had the unfortunate luck of running into some shrapnel and was pretty battered, covered in what skaters would call “road rash”, arm in a sling and one foot wrapped in an ace bandage. I smiled as asked him if he could sign his John Hancock for me and he started flirting with me! Here’s this young man no more than say 25 coming back from a stressful, tense environment, got tore up doing it, yet has the courage to flirt with the ID card lady. I nearly busted up laughing, he was so adorable. I of course flirted back figuring the husband would be okay with it as long as I really didn’t give him the number he asked for.
So it’s for these guys that I remember the service and sacrifice. It’s for those that are still there, those that have gone and returned, those laid to rest giving their life and the families for waiting for their soldier to return. It’s the courage of a soldier to flirt with a girl knowing he didn’t look his best, soldiers like SGT Devore who go out on patrol day after day, and PFC Maupin (MIA).
I will remember the courage and strength of these people. And to quote Todd Beamer, “Let’s roll.”
1 comment:
*Sniff*...you brought tears to my eyes with that post.
I am always so impressed with the military's respect for the flag. I can remember once going to the PX with my boyfriend on post here. And we were going to cross the street, when all of the sudden he stopped, and said, wait...and then turned diagonally from me, and stood at attention. I had no idea, what was going on. Then a car pulled over and the driver got out, and did the same. It was all very perplexing to me. And then I realized what was going on, but before, I had kind of muted out the background noise. He didn't explain anything to me, he just did it. The same thing when we went to the movies on post. I had no idea that the national anthem was going to be played, and that everyone was expected to stand up.
I can remember in kindergarten and elementary school that we said the pledge of allegience every day...and everyone wanted to be the kid that stood and held the flag. When I went to a town hall meeting after 9/11, that was the first time I had said the pledge of allegience in years...I can't even remember the time I had said it last.
I think the general public is so far removed from those patriotic traditions.
I also have an increased fondness for soldiers now. If I am at an airport and see someone in transit, I just have to go talk to them, and I am always choked up when I do it.
I can barely wait to pick my soldier up at the airport!
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