Sunday, April 21, 2013

Every Friday At The Pentagon

This has been around before, but it's well worth repeating.



Every Friday At The Pentagon



It really breaks your heart to know that we didn't know this goes on every Friday, well at least I didn't know. Instead, I guess the media feels it's more important to report on Hollywood stars as heroes. I hope this article gives you a sense of pride for what our men and women are doing for us, every day, as they serve in the armed forces here and abroad.





IT HAPPENS EVERY FRIDAY MORNING! WERE YOU AWARE?



Mornings at the Pentagon
By JOSEPH L. GALLOWAY
McClatchy Newspapers

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.


This week, I'm turning my space over to a good friend and former roommate, Army Lt. Col.. Robert Bateman, who recently completed a yearlong tour of duty 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 Altermanat 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? I didn't.

Don't send it back to me, just be a Patriot and

send it on its way as you see fit.

In God We Trust
If we ever forget that we are one nation under God,

then we will be a nation gone under.

President Ronald Reagan



Kindness is the language the blind can see and the deaf can hear.

Mark Twain














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