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| Subject: Friday AM at the
Pentagon |
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Over the last 12 months, 1,042
soldiers, Marines, sailors and Air Force personnel have given their
lives in the terrible duty that is war. Thousands more have come home on
stretchers, horribly wounded and facing months or years in military
hospitals.
Army Lt. Col. Robert Bateman, who recently completed a >yearlong tour of
duty in Iraq and is now back at the Pentagon. Here's Lt. Col. Bateman's
account of a little-known ceremony that fills the halls of the Army
corridor of the Pentagon with cheers, applause and many tears every
Friday morning. It first appeared on May 17 on the Weblog of media
critic and pundit Eric Alterman at the Media Matters for America
Website.
"It is 110 yards from the "E" ring to the "A" ring of the Pentagon.
This section of the Pentagon is newly renovated; the floors shine, the
hallway is broad, and the lighting is bright. At this instant the entire
length of the corridor is packed with officers, a few sergeants and some
civilians, all crammed tightly three and four deep against the walls.
There are thousands here.
This hallway, more than any other, is the `Army' hallway. The G3 offices
line one side, G2 the other, G8 is around the corner. All Army. Moderate
conversations flow in a low buzz. Friends who may not have seen each
other for a few weeks, or a few years, spot each other, cross the way
and renew.
Everyone shifts to ensure an open path remains down the center. The air
conditioning system was not designed for this press of bodies in this
area.
The temperature is rising already. Nobody cares. "10:36 hours: The
clapping starts at the E-Ring. That is the outermost of the five rings
of the Pentagon and it is closest to the entrance to the building. This
clapping is low, sustained, hearty. It is applause with a deep emotion
behind it as it moves forward in a wave down the length of the
hallway.
"A steady rolling wave of sound it is, moving at the pace of the soldier
in the wheelchair who marks the forward edge with his presence. He is
the first. He is missing the greater part of one leg, and some of his
wounds are still suppurating. By his age I expect that he is a private,
or perhaps a private first class.
"Captains, majors, lieutenant colonels and colonels meet his gaze and
nod as they applaud, soldier to soldier. Three years ago when I
described one of these events, those lining the hallways were somewhat
different. The applause a little wilder, perhaps in private guilt for
not having shared in the burden...yet.
"Now almost everyone lining the hallway is, like the man in the
wheelchair, also a combat veteran. This steadies the applause, but I
think deepens the sentiment. We have all been there now. The soldier's
chair is pushed by, I believe, a full colonel.
"Behind him, and stretching the length from Rings E to A, come more of
his peers, each private, corporal, or sergeant assisted as need be by a
field grade officer.
"11:00 hours: Twenty-four minutes of steady applause. My hands hurt, and
I laugh to myself at how stupid that sounds in my own head. My hands
hurt. Please! Shut up and clap. For twenty-four minutes, soldier after
soldier has come down this hallway - 20, 25, 30. Fifty-three legs come
with them, and perhaps only 52 hands or arms, but down this hall came 30
solid hearts.
They pass down this corridor of officers and applause, and then meet for
a private lunch, at which they are the guests of honor, hosted by the
generals. Some are wheeled along. Some insist upon getting out of their
chairs, to march as best they can with their chin held up, down this
hallway, through this most unique audience. Some are catching handshakes
and smiling like a politician at a Fourth of July parade. More than a
couple of them seem amazed and are smiling shyly.
"There are families with them as well: the 18-year-old war-bride pushing
her 19-year-old husband's wheelchair and not quite understanding why her
husband is so affected by this, the boy she grew up with, now a man, who
had never shed a tear is crying; the older immigrant Latino parents who
have, perhaps more than their wounded
mid-20s son, an appreciation for the emotion given on their son's
behalf. No man in that hallway, walking or clapping, is ashamed by the
silent tears on more than a few cheeks. An Airborne Ranger wipes his
eyes only to better see. A couple of the officers in this crowd have
themselves been a part of this parade in the past.
These are our men, broken in body they may be, but they are our
brothers, and we welcome them home. This parade has gone on, every
single Friday, all year long, for more than four years.
"Did you know that?
The media hasn't told the story."
If you can't stand behind our troops, try standing in front of them!
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| This page last updated on
Monday, March 21, 2011 04:20:20 PM
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