Memorial Day......

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Feb 28, 2003
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MAY GOD BLESS THIS AIRLINE CAPTAIN:




He writes: My lead flight attendant came to me and said, "We have an H.R. on this flight." (H.R. stands for human remains.) "Are they military?" I asked.




'Yes', she said.




'Is there an escort?' I asked.




'Yes, I already assigned him a seat'.




'Would you please tell him to come to the flight deck. You can board him early," I said..




A short while later, a young army sergeant entered the flight deck. He was the image of the perfectly dressed soldier. He introduced himself and I asked him about his soldier. The escorts of these fallen soldiers talk about them as if they are still alive and still with us.




'My soldier is on his way back to Virginia ,' he said. He proceeded to answer my questions, but offered no words.




I asked him if there was anything I could do for him and he said no. I told him that he had the toughest job in the military and that I appreciated the work that he does for the families of our fallen soldiers. The first officer and I got up out of our seats to shake his hand. He left the flight deck to find his seat.




We completed our preflight checks, pushed back and performed an uneventful departure. About 30 minutes into our flight I received a call from the lead flight attendant in the cabin. 'I just found out the family of the soldier we are carrying, is on board', she said. She then proceeded to tell me that the father, mother, wife and 2-year old daughter were escorting their son, husband, and father home. The family was upset because they were unable to see the container that the soldier was in before we left. We were on our way to a major hub at which the family was going to wait four hours for the connecting flight home to Virginia .




The father of the soldier told the flight attendant that knowing his son was below him in the cargo compartment and being unable to see him was too much for him and the family to bear. He had asked the flight attendant if there was anything that could be done to allow them to see him upon our arrival. The family wanted to be outside by the cargo door to watch the soldier being taken off the airplane.. I could hear the desperation in the flight attendants voice when she asked me if there was anything I could do.. 'I'm on it', I said. I told her that I would get back to her.




Airborne communication with my company normally occurs in the form of e-mail like messages. I decided to bypass this system and contact my flight dispatcher directly on a secondary radio. There is a radio operator in the operations control center who connects you to the telephone of the dispatcher. I was in direct contact with the dispatcher.. I explained the situation I had on board with the family and what it was the family wanted. He said he understood and that he would get back to me.




Two hours went by and I had not heard from the dispatcher. We were going to get busy soon and I needed to know what to tell the family. I sent a text message asking for an update. I saved the return message from the dispatcher and the following is the text:




'Captain, sorry it has taken so long to get back to you. There is policy on this now and I had to check on a few things. Upon your arrival a dedicated escort team will meet the aircraft. The team will escort the family to the ramp and plane side. A van will be used to load the remains with a secondary van for the family. The family will be taken to their departure area and escorted into the terminal where the remains can be seen on the ramp. It is a private area for the family only. When the connecting aircraft arrives, the family will be escorted onto the ramp and plane side to watch the remains being loaded for the final leg home. Captain, most of us here in flight control are veterans. Please pass our condolences on to the family. Thanks.'




I sent a message back telling flight control thanks for a good job. I printed out the message and gave it to the lead flight attendant to pass on to the father. The lead flight attendant was very thankful and told me, 'You have no idea how much this will mean to them.'




Things started getting busy for the descent, approach and landing. After landing, we cleared the runway and taxied to the ramp area. The ramp is huge with 15 gates on either side of the alleyway. It is always a busy area with aircraft maneuvering every which way to enter and exit. When we entered the ramp and checked in with the ramp controller, we were told that all traffic was being held for us.




'There is a team in place to meet the aircraft', we were told. It looked like it was all coming together, then I realized that once we turned the seat belt sign off, everyone would stand up at once and delay the family from getting off the airplane. As we approached our gate, I asked the copilot to tell the ramp controller we were going to stop short of the gate to make an announcement to the passengers. He did that and the ramp controller said, 'Take your time.'




I stopped the aircraft and set the parking brake. I pushed the public address button and said, 'Ladies and gentleman, this is your Captain speaking I have stopped short of our gate to make a special announcement. We have a passenger on board who deserves our honor and respect. His Name is Private XXXXXX, a soldier who recently lost his life. Private XXXXXX is under your feet in the cargo hold. Escorting him today is Army Sergeant XXXXXXX. Also, on board are his father, mother, wife, and daughter. Your entire flight crew is asking for all passengers to remain in their seats to allow the family to exit the aircraft first. Thank you.'




We continued the turn to the gate, came to a stop and started our shutdown procedures. A couple of minutes later I opened the cockpit door. I found the two forward flight attendants crying, something you just do not see. I was told that after we came to a stop, every passenger on the aircraft stayed in their seats, waiting for the family to exit the aircraft.




When the family got up and gathered their things, a passenger slowly started to clap his hands. Moments later more passengers joined in and soon the entire aircraft was clapping. Words of 'God Bless You', I'm sorry, thank you, be proud, and other kind words were uttered to the family as they made their way down the aisle and out of the airplane. They were escorted down to the ramp to finally be with their loved one.




Many of the passengers disembarking thanked me for the announcement I had made. They were just words, I told them, I could say them over and over again, but nothing I say will bring back that brave soldier.




I respectfully ask that all of you reflect on this event and the sacrifices that millions of our men and women have made to ensure our freedom and safety in these United States of AMERICA .




Foot note: As a Viet Nam Veteran I can only think of all the veterans including the ones that rode below the deck on their way home and how they were treated. When I read things like this I am proud that our country has not turned their backs on our soldiers returning from the various war zones today and give them the respect they so deserve.




I know every one who has served their country who reads this will have tears in their eyes, including me.
 
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Honor and Respect...Gratitude to all who have served and sacrificed in the Military.

Subject: Best Dog Story Ever

They told me the big black Lab's name was Reggie, as I
looked at him lying in his pen. The shelter was clean, no-kill, and
the people really friendly. I'd only been in the area for six months,
but everywhere I went in the small college town, people were welcoming
and open. Everyone waves when you pass them on the street.

But something was still missing as I attempted to settle in to my
new life here, and I thought a dog couldn't hurt. Give me someone to
talk to. And I had just seen Reggie's advertisement on the local news.
The shelter said they had received numerous calls right after, but
they said the people who had come down to see him just didn't look
like "Lab people," whatever that meant. They must've thought I did.

But at first, I thought the shelter had misjudged me in giving me
Reggie and his things, which consisted of a dog pad, bag of toys
almost all of which were brand new tennis balls, his dishes and a
sealed letter from his previous owner.

See, Reggie and I didn't really hit it off when we got home. We
struggled for two weeks (which is how long the shelter told me to give
him to adjust to his new home). Maybe it was the fact that I was
trying to adjust, too. Maybe we were too much alike.

I saw the sealed envelope. I had completely forgotten about that.
"Okay, Reggie," I said out loud, "let's see if your previous owner has
any advice”


To Whomever Gets My Dog:

Well, I can't say that I'm happy you're reading this, a letter
I told the shelter could only be opened by Reggie's new owner. I'm not
even happy writing it. He knew something was different. So let me tell
you about my Lab in the hopes that it will help you bond with him and
he with you.

First, he loves tennis balls. The more the merrier. Sometimes I
think he's part squirrel, the way he hoards them. He usually always
has two in his mouth, and he tries to get a third in there. Hasn't
done it yet. Doesn't matter where you throw them, he'll bound after
them, so be careful. Don't do it by any roads.

Next, commands. Reggie knows the obvious ones ---"sit," "stay,"
"come," "heel." He knows hand signals, too: He knows "ball" and "food"
and "bone" and "treat" like nobody's business.

Feeding schedule: twice a day, regular store-bought stuff; the
shelter has the brand.

He's up on his shots. Be forewarned: Reggie hates the vet. Good
luck getting him in the car. I don't know how he knows when it's time
to go to the vet, but he knows.

Finally, give him some time. It's only been Reggie and me for
his whole life. He's gone everywhere with me, so please include him on
your daily car rides if you can. He sits well in the backseat, and he
doesn't bark or complain. He just loves to be around people, and me
most especially.

And that's why I need to share one more bit of info with
you...His name's not Reggie. He's a smart dog, he'll get used to it
and will respond to it, of that I have no doubt. But I just couldn't
bear to give them his real name. But if someone is reading this ...
well it means that his new owner should know his real name. His real
name is "Tank.” Because, that is what I drive.

I told the shelter that they couldn't make "Reggie" available
for adoption until they received word from my company commander. You
see, my parents are gone, I have no siblings, no one I could've left
Tank with ... and it was my only real request of the Army upon my
deployment to Iraq, that they make one phone call to the shelter ...
in the "event" ... to tell them that Tank could be put up for
adoption. Luckily, my CO is a dog-guy, too, and he knew where my
platoon was headed. He said he'd do it personally. And if you're
reading this, then he made good on his word.

Tank has been my family for the last six years, almost as long as
the Army has been my family. And now I hope and pray that you make him
part of your family, too, and that he will adjust and come to love you
the same way he loved me. If I have to give up Tank to keep those
terrible people from coming to the US I am glad to have done so. He is
my example of service and of love. I hope I honored him by my service
to my country and comrades.

All right, that's enough. I deploy this evening and have to
drop this letter off at the shelter. Maybe I'll peek in on him and see
if he finally got that third tennis ball in his mouth.

Good luck with Tank. Give him a good home, and give him an
extra kiss goodnight – every night – from me.

Thank you, - - Paul Mallory


I folded the letter and slipped it back in the envelope. Sure, I had
heard of Paul Mallory, everyone in town knew him, even new people like
me. Local kid, killed in Iraq a few months ago and posthumously
earning the Silver Star when he gave his life to save three buddies.
Flags had been at half-mast all summer. I leaned forward in my chair
and rested my elbows on my knees, staring at the dog. "Hey, Tank," I
said quietly. The dog's head whipped up, his ears cocked and his eyes
bright. "C'mere boy." He was instantly on his feet, his nails clicking
on the hardwood floor. He sat in front of me, his head tilted,
searching for the name he hadn't heard in months. "Tank," I whispered.
His tail swished. I kept whispering his name, over and over, and each
time, his ears lowered, his eyes softened, and his posture relaxed as
a wave of contentment just seemed to flood him. I stroked his ears,
rubbed his shoulders, buried my face into his scruff and hugged him.
"It's me now, Tank, just you and me. Your old pal gave you to me."
Tank reached up and licked my cheek. "So whatdaya say we play some
ball?" His ears perked again. "Yeah? Ball? You like that? Ball?"

Tank tore from my hands and disappeared into the next room. And when
he came back, he had three tennis balls in his mouth.

If you can read this without getting a lump in your throat or a tear
in your eye, you just ain't right.



A veteran is someone who, at one point, wrote a blank check made
payable to 'The United States of America' for an amount of ‘up to and
including their life.' That is Honor, and there are way too many
people in this country who no longer understand it.



"The true soldier fights not because he hates what is in front of
him, but because he loves what is behind him."
Memorial Day...
Never forget
ever Honor.
 
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Thank you Uncle Jim. We love you.

You were there on your belly, in the jungle while they sprayed during operation ranch hand.

Little did we know that it was not bullets being sprayed by the enemy that would kill you.

Thank you for the ultimate sacrifice.

And to my Dad; I know you would have traded places with all of your freinds and fellow troops that did not come home. I am one of the lucky children of your squadron to have my dad come back.

I cherish each and every day.

Never forget.
 
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