Index:
E:mail Honoring our Military Men and Women (New 1/7/05)
GI Clothes Await Return of Owners
Support for American Military Families
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Journalists are journalists are journalists. Leave it to war to knock that fallacy out of the park.If you feel like there is no escape from the harshness of all that continues to unfold in Iraq, you are not alone. Seemingly everyone with a computer, a camera or a microphone is grasping each day for any hook that will allow them to reel in one more sound bite, one more story about the brutality that won't go away in that far away land.
Seemingly everyone, but not all. There are still those distracted by other topics. A few days ago, I -- along with a number of local TV news crews -- received an invitation from the NBA to show up at San Antonio International Airport for a chance to interview some of the league's biggest legends as they flew in on a specially painted Southwest Airlines charter.
It was more work after an already long day. But how often does one get an opportunity for one-on-one time with the likes of George Gervin, Julius Erving and Bill Russell in a single lifetime -- much less a single afternoon?
So I went. And I waited. And waited. And waited.
First the plane was going to be 15 minutes late. Then 30 minutes. Then an hour. A plane that was supposed to arrive shortly after 4 p.m. touched down a little after 6 p.m.
Standing ovation.
During those two hours, the cluster of media waiting to meet the NBA legends huddled in a quiet corner of Terminal 1 near an arrival tunnel leading to the baggage claim area. There, I enjoyed the pleasantries of a lengthy flight delay with all the comfort of a hard concrete floor as my chair.
Some in the group made phone calls. Some sipped on sodas and talked about the Spurs and other things. While we sat and waited, some of us frustrated, some of us angry, some of us anxious, a young woman -- dressed in the now-too-familiar sand-colored battle fatigues -- came out of the tunnel and walked by us. She was alone, and no one in our group seemed to notice her, much less gawk as some had at other, more voluptuous, women who had come through that same tunnel minutes before.
She saw the media and the cameras and she kept walking. It was odd that she would be so invisible at a time like this, but she was -- at least to most in our group.
Then something happened. A story, unscripted and without press release, unfolded. That young soldier marched quietly through that terminal, passing in front of a gentleman many years her senior. Without the prompting of a giant Jumbotron, he stood and clapped his hands. Then another did the same, followed by still another. With each step this soldier took in that airport terminal, more people stood and clapped in what I will forever remember as one of the most moving and spontaneous events I can recall.
Suddenly, my heart beat faster and there was a lump in my throat. If I had not fought so hard against it, there would have been a tear or two, as well.
Unexpected heroes.
With all due respect to Gervin and Erving, two of my favorite heroes during my childhood, this young woman and the reaction her presence generated reminded me that there are plenty of individuals -- whose identities are less known than the Iceman or Dr. J. -- who are the real heroes.
It's one thing to fight for a basket or a rebound. It's quite another, I would imagine, to fight for your country. It's so odd how in this media business it is so easy to let the challenges of reporting on one story keep us from recognizing another. But my gut tells me that is exactly what happened in that airport that day.
I'll probably never know that young woman's name. And I am all but certain that she will never dunk a basketball like Gervin or Erving once did.
But if I could have that day back, I'd politely pass on the NBA stars and have a chat with this GI Jane Doe.
Who wouldn't love the opportunity to tell a warm-hearted story about a spontaneous display of gratitude toward another human being in a place where thousands of strangers typically pass each other every day without so much as wink or a nod hello? Isn't that news? All of us in the media got some piece of that not-so-important NBA story that day. None of us captured what might have been a better story.
Much like the rest of America, some of those people in that airport terminal undoubtedly hate the reasons we are at war, while others have more hawkish attitudes. But on that day, during that one moment, the sound of one soldier's boot-heavy steps were drowned out by an unforgettable, display of appreciation for those who are fighting the battles that are accompanied by death -- not deadlines.
Sports media types often have a hard time seeing life outside the white lines. Since that day, for example, Pat Tillman, who gave up millions of dollars with the Arizona Cardinals to join the army after 9-11, was killed in combat in Afghanistan.
How did some in my profession treat that story? By writing reports about how much money his football jersey might command on the open market. We should know better. Just like we should know that sometimes the better story is the one we weren't invited to cover.
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The average age of the military man is 19 years. He is a short haired, tight-muscled kid who, under normal circumstances is considered by society as half man, half boy. Not yet dry behind the ears, not old enough to buy a beer, but old enough to die for his country. He never really cared much for work and he would rather wax his own car than wash his father's; but he has never collected unemployment either.
He's a recent High School graduate; he was probably an average student,pursued some form of sport activities, drives a ten year old jalopy, and has a steady girlfriend that either broke up with him when he left, or swears to be waiting when he returns from half a world away. He listens to rock and roll or hip-hop or rap or jazz or swing and 155mm howizzitor. He is 10 or 15 pounds lighter now than when he was at home because he is working or fighting from before dawn to well after dusk.
He has trouble spelling, thus letter writing is a pain for him, but he can field strip a rifle in 30 seconds and reassemble it in less time in the dark. He can recite to you the nomenclature of a machine gun or grenade launcher and use either one effectively if he must. He digs foxholes and latrines and can apply first aid like a professional. He can march until he is told to stop or stop until he is told to march.
He obeys orders instantly and without hesitation, but he is not without spirit or individual dignity. He is self-sufficient. He has two sets of fatigues: he washes one and wears the other. He keeps his canteens full and his feet dry. He sometimes forgets to brush his teeth, but never to clean his rifle. He can cook his own meals, mend his own clothes, and fix his own hurts. If you're thirsty, he'll share his water with you; if you are hungry, his food. He'll even split his ammunition with you in the midst of battle when you run low.
He has learned to use his hands like weapons and weapons like they were his hands. He can save your life - or take it, because that is his job. He will often do twice the work of a civilian, draw half the pay and still find ironic humor in it all. He has seen more suffering and death then he should have in his short lifetime.
He has stood atop mountains of dead bodies, and helped to create them. He has wept in public and in private, for friends who have fallen in combat and is unashamed. He feels every note of the National Anthem vibrate through his body while at rigid attention, while tempering the burning desire to 'square-away' those around him who haven't bothered to stand, remove their hat, or even stop talking. In an odd twist, day in and day out, far from home, he defends their right to be disrespectful.
Just as did his Father, Grandfather, and Great-grandfather, he is paying the price for our freedom. Beardless or not, he is not a boy. He is the American Fighting Man that has kept this country free for over 200 years.
He has asked nothing in return, except our friendship and understanding. Remember him, always, for he has earned our respect and admiration with his blood. And now we even have woman over there in danger, doing their part in this tradition of going to War when our nation calls us to do so. As you go to bed tonight, remember this shot.. A short lull, a little shade and a picture of loved ones in their helmets.......
Prayer wheel for our military... please don't break it. Please send this on after a short prayer.
Prayer Wheel
"Lord, hold our troops in your loving hands. Protect them as they protect us. Bless them and their families for the selfless acts they perform for us in our time of need. Amen."
Prayer : When you receive this, please stop for a moment and say a prayer for our ground troops in Afghanistan, sailors on ships, and airmen in the air, and for those in Iraq. There is nothing attached.... This can be very powerful.......
Of all the gifts you could give a US Soldier, Sailor, Coastguardsman, Marine or Airman, prayer is the very best one.
Shop owner keeping uniforms as a salute to the troops in Iraq.
Oceanside, Calif. - There are two unclaimed military uniforms hanging in Jerry Alexander's dry cleaning shop on Tremont Street.
They're on the rack, side by side, in slots numbered 1781 and 1783. The first is tall and stout. The second is short and thin. Like Lennie and George in "Of Mice and Men."
Number 1781 arrived at Dorothy's laundry in December 2002. Number 1783 came in October 2002. Just a few months before the men and women of the 1st Marine Expeditionary Force stationed at nearby Camp Pendleton shipped out for Iraq.
The uniforms have gone unclaimed since then, nearly two years, hanging like bones in an anatomy lecture. They'll remain, Alexander said, until the Iraq conflict is over and all the Marines come home.
"Even if it takes five years," he promised. "Even if it takes 10."
Alexander doesn't know what happened to the men to whom the uniforms belong. Perhaps they abandoned the clothing. That sometimes happens, though rarely. Perhaps they forgot to get their laundry before they shipped out, but what were the odds? Two uniforms in a row, with an empty space between. Numbers 1781 and 1783.
There is a third, more malignant possibility: a dead man can't claim a clean shirt.
There are names on the yellowing tickets affixed to the plastic that covers the camouflage fatigues, but Alexander hasn't read them or checked them against the list of the killed or wounded. His curiosity doesn't work that way, he said. Nor will he divulge the names to a stranger, that would be a dereliction of decency.
The 1st Marine Expeditionary Force left in January 2003 and fought its way to Baghdad. When the Marines triumphantly returned, Alexander hung a banner on his shop: "Welcome Home, Job Well Done."
No one came, though, to claim numbers 1781 and 1783.
Last March, the Marines shipped out for a second tour. The body count began to rise - the number of dead Americans has passed 1,000 - and Alexander took the sign down.
In peaceful times, there are 35,000 Marines stationed at Camp Pendleton. But more than half now are in Iraq and Kuwait. As of Oct. 3, the Pentagon had confirmed the deaths of 149 of them.
The uniforms hanging in his shop today, and the empty streets and headlines and the casualty reports and the recollections of Vietnam, have had an effect.
"I have doubts, everybody has doubts now," he said about the situation in Iraq. "It's gone on so long now. There's been a lot of casualties from Pendleton. We feel it here."
And so Alexander hopes that two men will walk through his front door, one thick, one thin, each with $7 in hand and a claim receipt for 1781 and 1783.
Though the tickets say all articles left over 30 days may be sold for charges, the uniforms will be waiting. He'll tell the men thanks for the service. And no charges for the storage.
On Sept. 23, I arrived late at the airport post office. I had shopped all afternoon gathering birthday items for a soldier whose platoon is stationed in an extremely dangerous area in Iraq.
I motioned people to go around me in line as I packed gifts, including a patriotic shirt and a book about U.S. presidents and their quotes on freedom. I began talking to the lady behind me. We agreed that freedom is not free and how grateful we are for our service men and women.
The postmistress said priority mail ($25) was the fast way to go and then sent me to fill out a customs report. Returning, I added the $3.20 tape and asked for my total bill. She said, "3.20." But…
"The lady behind you paid the bill," she replied in a voice filled with respect and pride.
May we learn from this example and periodically pass on acts of thanks to honor our men and women who serve in our military to keep us and others free. God bless America, our military men and women every-where and the unknown lady.
Support for American Military Families
From the National Guard Magazine
WASHINGTON (12/21/2004) - A statewide effort is helping provide a happier holiday season for California residents serving in the military and their family members.
"Operation Christmas for Our Troops" has prompted the collection of nearly 7,000 toys as well as certificates and cash donations to help military families make ends meet or cover emergency expenses.
The program is sponsored by Yellow Ribbon America and the National Guard Association of California, with support of the State Assembly and Senate. Yellow Ribbon America was founded in March 2003 as a nonpartisan, grassroots effort to unite Americans in helping military families in their local communities.
Brad White, chairman of Yellow Ribbon America, said Yellow Ribbon America said this support runs the gamut from providing yellow ribbons to communities as symbols of their support for servicemembers to helping families financially during times of need.
White said DVDs are among the most popular items troops have received through the program. At Fort Lewis, Wash., a Yellow Ribbon America drive provided enough DVDs to create a full video library, he said.
"With the current technology available, even some of the soldiers in the field are able to play DVDs and watch favorite movies from home," White said. "That can mean a lot, especially this time of year."
(From a Yellow Ribbon America news release.)
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