Among Giants
"They're murdering us here. Let's move inland and get murdered."
--Colonel Charles D. Canham, 116th Infantry Regiment commander, on Omaha Beach
Every year in early June, the Association of the United States Army, Greater Los Angeles Chapter, hosts a Ball in celebration of the Army’s birthday. Several hundred guests arrive, from enlisted soldiers to general officers, active duty, Guard, Reserve, a handful of Marines and Sailors, veterans, military contractors, family, and friends. Among this year’s attendees were guests of honor GEN James H. Dickinson, Commander of the United States Space Command, LTC (R) Enrique Cervantes, 97 year old (still charming the ladies!) Army Air Force pilot of the 100th Bombardment Group, and Medal of Honor recipient LTC William Swenson.
Early June is when we recall the bravery of the Allied Forces at Normandy. So long ago, so few remaining witnesses. As I watch the evening unfold in the ballroom, Thom Tran shares a video of getting shot his fourth day in Iraq. He reminds us that soldiers are not just heroes, they’re nerds and musicians, fathers and mothers, sons of Vietnamese ex-POWs who risked all to escape by boat to freedom and the unknown. Thom’s dad tells him getting shot is nothing compared to being a POW. Jim Cragg stands over the Missing Man table, a remembrance of those who didn’t make it home. His wife and little girl are here tonight, his special operators’ beard many years gone. Pete Seitz flew helicopters in Vietnam and is seemingly everywhere volunteering for soldiers and vets. He's missing the Legacy Aircrews Reunion so unfortunately scheduled in conflict with the Ball. Down at Los Al, the helicopter guys are having their annual event, and Pete and I are both sad we can't be in two places. At one of the dinner tables is a dad with his son who enlisted yesterday. Young soldiers recently engaged. Enrique Cervantes, 97 years old, ripping up the dance floor with all the young pretty girls. William Swenson and his family waiting years for that Medal of Honor because the paperwork got lost. Bill and Debby are here. He hates being photographed but always plays along as Debby teases and kisses his face. Arnold and Jessica, who live down the street, were out riding bikes. Arnold didn’t even know the Ball was happening. He put the R in COL (R).
What always strikes me about these soldiers is how extraordinary and ordinary they are. Some I’ve known for years, others I just met tonight. We don’t talk about what they’ve seen, or their fears. We smile and laugh and shoot photos, watch the Color Guard and drill team, listen to the 40th Infantry Division Band, hear a couple of short speeches, raise a glass. The formal schedule winds down quickly, then it’s glorious, loud music and the dance floor. And then it’s over, and I’m taking a few last circles around the room to say goodnight and see you later. Godspeed, soldiers, and your beautiful families. Thank you for keeping us safe.