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<blockquote data-quote="moreluck" data-source="post: 201961" data-attributes="member: 1246"><p>By Joseph L. Galloway</p><p>> McClatchy Newspapers</p><p>></p><p>> It's that time of year again. Memorial Day weekend is the beginning of</p><p></p><p>> summer fun for most Americans, and as I've done before in this space, </p><p>> I want to pause to take note of the real reason there is a Memorial </p><p>> Day.</p><p>></p><p>> It's meant to honor and pay our respects to those Americans who've </p><p>> given their lives in service to our nation, who stand in an unbroken </p><p>> line from Lexington's rude bridge to Cemetery Ridge to the Argonne </p><p>> Forest to the beaches of Normandy to the frozen Chosin Reservoir to </p><p>> the Ia Drang Valley to the sands of Kuwait to the streets of Baghdad.</p><p>> Over the past 12 months, 1,042 soldiers, Marines, sailors and Air </p><p>> Force personnel have given their lives in the terrible duty that is </p><p>> war. Thousands more have come home on stretchers, horribly wounded and</p><p></p><p>> facing months or years in military hospitals.</p><p>></p><p>> This week, I'm turning my space over to a good friend and former </p><p>> roommate, Army Lt. Col. Robert Bateman, who recently completed a </p><p>> year-long tour of duty in Iraq and is now back at the Pentagon.</p><p>> Here's Lt. Col. Bateman's account of a little-known ceremony that </p><p>> fills the halls of the Army corridor of the Pentagon with cheers, </p><p>> applause and many tears every Friday morning. It first appeared on May</p><p>> 17 on the web-log of media critic and pundit Eric Alterman at the </p><p>> Media Matters for America Web site.</p><p>></p><p>> "It is 110 yards from the "E" ring to the "A" ring of the Pentagon.</p><p>> This section of the Pentagon is newly renovated; the floors shine, the</p><p></p><p>> hallway is broad, and the lighting is bright. At this instant the </p><p>> entire length of the corridor is packed with officers, a few sergeants</p><p></p><p>> and some civilians, all crammed tightly three and four deep against </p><p>> the walls. There are thousands here.</p><p>></p><p>> "This hallway, more than any other, is the 'Army' hallway. The G3 </p><p>> offices line one side, G2 the other, G8 is around the corner. All </p><p>> Army. Moderate conversations flow in a low buzz. Friends who may not </p><p>> have seen each other for a few weeks, or a few years, spot each other,</p><p></p><p>> cross the way and renew. Everyone shifts to ensure an open path </p><p>> remains down the center. The air conditioning system was not designed </p><p>> for this press of bodies in this area. The temperature is rising </p><p>> already. Nobody cares.</p><p>></p><p>> "10:36 hours: The clapping starts at the E-Ring. That is the outermost</p><p></p><p>> of the five rings of the Pentagon and it is closest to the entrance to</p><p></p><p>> the building. This clapping is low, sustained, hearty. It is applause </p><p>> with a deep emotion behind it as it moves forward in a wave down the </p><p>> length of the hallway.</p><p>></p><p>> "A steady rolling wave of sound it is, moving at the pace of the </p><p>> soldier in the wheelchair who marks the forward edge with his </p><p>> presence. He is the first. He is missing the greater part of one leg, </p><p>> and some of his wounds are still suppurating. By his age I expect that</p><p></p><p>> he is a private, or perhaps a private first class.</p><p>></p><p>> "Captains, majors, lieutenant colonels and colonels meet his gaze and </p><p>> nod as they applaud, soldier to soldier. Three years ago when I </p><p>> described one of these events, those lining the hallways were somewhat</p><p></p><p>> different. The applause a little wilder, perhaps in private guilt for </p><p>> not having shared in the burden . . . yet.</p><p>></p><p>> "Now almost everyone lining the hallway is, like the man in the </p><p>> wheelchair, also a combat veteran. This steadies the applause, but I </p><p>> think deepens the sentiment. We have all been there now. The soldier's</p><p></p><p>> chair is pushed by, I believe, a full colonel.</p><p>></p><p>> "Behind him, and stretching the length from Rings E to A, come more of</p><p></p><p>> his peers, each private, corporal or sergeant assisted as need be by a</p><p></p><p>> field grade officer.</p><p>></p><p>> "11:00 hours: Twenty-four minutes of steady applause. My hands hurt, </p><p>> and I laugh to myself at how stupid that sounds in my own head. 'My </p><p>> hands hurt.' Christ. Shut up and clap. For twenty-four minutes, </p><p>> soldier after soldier has come down this hallway _ 20, 25, 30.</p><p>> Fifty-three legs come with them, and perhaps only 52 hands or arms, </p><p>> but down this hall came 30 solid hearts.</p><p>></p><p>> "They pass down this corridor of officers and applause, and then meet </p><p>> for a private lunch, at which they are the guests of honor, hosted by </p><p>> the generals. Some are wheeled along. Some insist upon getting out of </p><p>> their chairs, to march as best they can with their chin held up, down </p><p>> this hallway, through this most unique audience. Some are catching </p><p>> handshakes and smiling like a politician at a Fourth of July parade.</p><p>> More than a couple of them seem amazed and are smiling shyly.</p><p>></p><p>> "There are families with them as well: the 18-year-old war-bride </p><p>> pushing her 19-year-old husband's wheelchair and not quite </p><p>> understanding why her husband is so affected by this, the boy she grew</p><p></p><p>> up with, now a man, who had never shed a tear is crying; the older </p><p>> immigrant Latino parents who have, perhaps more than their wounded </p><p>> mid-20s son, an appreciation for the emotion given on their son's </p><p>> behalf. No man in that hallway, walking or clapping, is ashamed by the</p><p></p><p>> silent tears on more than a few cheeks. An Airborne Ranger wipes his </p><p>> eyes only to better see. A couple of the officers in this crowd have </p><p>> themselves been a part of this parade in the past.</p><p>></p><p>> "These are our men, broken in body they may be, but they are our </p><p>> brothers, and we welcome them home. This parade has gone on, every </p><p>> single Friday, all year long, for more than four years."</p><p>></p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="moreluck, post: 201961, member: 1246"] By Joseph L. Galloway > McClatchy Newspapers > > It's that time of year again. Memorial Day weekend is the beginning of > summer fun for most Americans, and as I've done before in this space, > I want to pause to take note of the real reason there is a Memorial > Day. > > It's meant to honor and pay our respects to those Americans who've > given their lives in service to our nation, who stand in an unbroken > line from Lexington's rude bridge to Cemetery Ridge to the Argonne > Forest to the beaches of Normandy to the frozen Chosin Reservoir to > the Ia Drang Valley to the sands of Kuwait to the streets of Baghdad. > Over the past 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 web-log of media critic and pundit Eric Alterman at the > Media Matters for America Web site. > > "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.' Christ. 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." > [/QUOTE]
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