Date: Wednesday, April 29, 2009, 12:56 PM
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 G-3 offices line one side, G-2 the other, G-8 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 their friendships.
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 outer most 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 yet told the story and probably never will.