From: Harold Hewitt
Subject: Fw: Fridays at the Pentagon
To: Undisclosed-Recipient@yahoo.com
Date: Monday, March 21, 2011, 11:16 AM
Fridays At The Pentagon
I was not aware of this practice until now. I am pleased that it
happens and am astounded that it does happen, given the political
situation that exists in our government today.
It really breaks my 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! 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 year
long 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? Don't send it back to me, just send it on its way
as you see fit.
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