Hero's final journey brings home America's blessings
We Americans quarrel noisily over health care and the legacy of debt we're creating for our children and their children. We're at war in Iraq, Afghanistan and at times, it seems, with ourselves. Too many citizens are "suffering" for one reason or another, and even more are anxious about America's future. Democracy's processes seem overheated. There's an assault on the towering values of civility. We're ensnared in a giant polemic and at times it seems there's just something un-American about what's happening in America these days.
But we are America, and lucky us.
Our nation is — and always has been — a work in progress. It just seems like the "work" these days requires more heavy lifting.
And every now and then, we come face-to-face with the full definition of that "work" and the price demanded for our freedom, and the right to be a great and imperfect nation. It can be a moving experience.
Last Friday was the eighth anniversary of the 9/11 terror attacks, and the crowded Delta flight leaving Norfolk was running late at the departure gate. Folks were patient and talked pleasantly about health care and President Obama's address to Congress, grandchildren abroad, college football, swine flu and the stock market. A woman made the salient point that Joe Wilson's offense was made worse by his use of the word "lie." A uniformed solider flirted vigorously with a college girl. She flirted back. A grandmother held her infant granddaughter tightly in her lap and seemed worried as the delay grew to 10 minutes.
The cockpit intercom alert sounded; we braced for the inevitable bad news of an extended delay. The pilot spoke in a measured tone. He explained Delta was flying a "hero" to his final destination. Through the windows on the right side we could see the Delta's "Fallen Hero" cart approaching. It bore a casket prepared for air travel. A single military escort watched as Delta ramp personnel — the "Delta Honor Guard"— carefully and somberly transferred it to a special section of the jet's cargo hold.
Our plane would not leave, the pilot declared, until the escort was satisfied that his comrade's remains were secure and ready for transit.
The cabin chatter stopped abruptly. Was it a soldier, sailor, airman or marine?
Indirectly, we learned only that the "hero" died in Afghanistan. A Navy man wearing a sailor's black uniform entered the plane, took a seat on the front row of the coach section. A hundred or more passengers were silent. Atlanta was 90 minutes way.
And that was plenty of time for every American on that plane to consider what the lottery of flight scheduling had given us: that chance to consider the reality of America's work.
Our "hero" lay in the plane's belly, a few feet below us. For those 90 minutes, his presence altered our thoughts and engendered reflection. We never learned his name nor knew where he was headed, but it did not matter.
It was a simple, inescapable conclusion. For Democrats, for Republicans, for the rich, for the poor, for the noisy debaters, for the thoughtful thinkers — he had died for his country — and that would be us. The "hero" had done the work of our noisy democracy and personal freedoms. He had given all he had. Darting through the peaceful mid-morning sky, he was with us. More importantly, we were with him.
There are so many reasons for the greatness of America. We were flying with one that fair morning. We now vigorously debate domestic issues, yet we tend to accept a certain banality of war — and freedom.
Iraq and Afghanistan have become abstractions in the news. Is it one war on terror, or two? Who are the president and prime minister of Iraq? Who's winning the endless vote count in the Afghan presidential elections? Do all of us care?
And the format of America's current military prowess is lost in the news muddle:
Our nation's fighters are volunteers. Combat and dying are their realities. In eight years, America's Iraq/Afghanistan war on terror has claimed more than 5,050 American lives. No doubt that number will grow.
As the plane approached the gate in Atlanta, we could see another Delta honor guard forming on the ramp. The airline's "Fallen Hero" cart pulled up. The plane was late, many passengers would have to rush to meet connecting flights.
But the senior flight attendant asked passengers to remain seated until the "hero's" military escort exited the plane. The sailor in the black uniform rose slowly from his seat and walked forward. A plane full of rushing travelers remained still and silent.
And then as one, both cabins spontaneously broke into rhythmic applause. It was an act of respect for sure, but a grateful acknowledgement, too, of the "hero's" sacrifice — and the shared experience of escorting him home.
No one seemed to hurry off the plane. There weren't many dry eyes. Mothers thought about their young sons. The grandmother held her granddaughter a bit tighter. The flirting soldier had a more serious presence; he gave the pretty co-ed a good-bye hug. The senior flight attendant sobbed. Every one of us considered our blessings.
Every passenger, it seemed, thanked the flight crew and Delta for making a short flight so meaningful and memorable.
The "hero" was headed home. Somewhere a grieving family waited. And all over America, those noisy debates about "major" issues continued.
God has blessed America.
Ron Brinson is a former associate editor of this newspaper. He can be reached at rbrin1013@gmail.com.
