February 19, 2008...9:52 pm
“You may all go to hell, and I will go to Texas” - Thanking the Troops Part 2
Gazette reporter Elliot Mann recently traveled to Dallas along with a group of St. Croix Valley residents to thank members of the armed services arriving in the U.S., as well as those departing to Iraq and Afghanistan. This account is the second in a three-part series detailing his experience.
DALLAS - As I crouched, took aim with my camera and waited for the first troops to arrive at the Dallas/Fort Worth Airport, I nearly made a mistake that would have cost me my entire set of first-day pictures.
A woman excitedly waiting for her son, soldier Travis Donnell, tried to describe what she wanted to say first to her returning son.
“I can’t tell ya - I’ll cry,” Mickey Donnell said.
Somehow, I hold back the tears welling in my eyes. “Dusty air,” I explain. Smooth. But that excuse evaporated once Travis paced through the double doors and was nearly tackled by his mother, grandmother and other family members.
“I’m just so glad to have him home,” Mickey Donnell said, tears streaming down her face.
Again, I kept my face behind the camera.
The Dear American Hero board - Richard Glasgow, George Thole, Gary Kriesel, Wanda Williams and Kim Fuhrmann took spots near the entryway. Many soldiers are clearly surprised by the reception and were thrilled to be on familiar turf.
“It touches your heart,” said soldier Tony Perdue of California after receiving a hug from Fuhrmann. “It gets rough sometimes.”
Our gang was easily spotted - all are dressed in matching “Remembering their Sacrifices” polo shirts. We may have resembled a family bluegrass band, but if so, we’re a damn patriotic one.
As it turns out, we fit in like cards at a poker game. It’s clear that Fuhrmann knew what she was doing when she passed out the threads. Several residents from Euless, Texas, stood next to us with their own matching shirts, and two days later, a local high school will show up with matching duds, as well. The “Huggin’ and Kissin’ Grandmas,” who first welcome all soldiers, also dress in matching outfits. On Valentine’s Day, they’re clad in Hooters-logo shirts with pom-poms in each hand.
We’re also flanked by veterans of all shapes and sizes, men and women who carry purple hearts and battle scars. Many Vietnam vets say thanking the returning soldiers provides them with closure and the thanks they never received.
Whether the troops are men, women, white, black, Asian, the only color that matters is camouflage. Talk about war and politics is also left in the parking lot. Even though one might guess the crowd is decidedly “red-state favored,” one would never know for sure because the topic never comes up.
Military mother Betty Martinez, who has witnessed six deployments of her two children and former son-in-law, visits the airport on the weekends and any days off from work. She speaks slowly, choking back tears and measuring her sentences carefully, when describing her need to thank the soldiers. She started at the airport in 2004.
“I can’t hug my kid, but I can hug somebody’s kid for them,” she said. “It’s therapy. It’s the best way to keep in touch.”
It’s these parents that Bert Brady, an Operation Welcome Home veteran, credits when others mention his ABC News Person of the Week appearance. He bristles at the notion that his volunteerism deserves to be singled out.
“There’s 50 people (at the airport) who could have been on (ABC News),” he says.
While emotions take a cheerful note at arrivals, the departures are decidedly more solemn. Brady tells us to keep our tears hidden from the departing group and not to disturb those sitting with their families.
On Valentine’s Day, the airport’s United Service Organization schedules a celebration with some of the Dallas Cowboys cheerleaders. Brady, who takes up his regular spot at the end of the line so that he can hand out the Dear American Hero thank you cards, shows us rookies how it’s done.
He has many of the troops laughing with his slow, southern drawl: “We’ve got the Cowboys cheerleaders and pizza down at the end for you - you can have some of the pizza.”
One soldier, Calain Hamilton, poses with one of the cheerleaders and his 18-day-old baby. Hamilton talks about how someone threw a cheeseburger at him earlier in the week, but today, he’s never received so many hugs.
Another soldier talks about returning from overseas and being booed in the Boston airport. Paul Swartz - an Arlington, Texas, resident and Vietnam War veteran - shrugs off any notion that will happen here.
“That’s not going to happen in Dallas, Texas,” he says defiantly.
The next day at Fort Hood, the largest active duty armored post in the nation, the welcome-home tips from Brady, Fuhrmann, Glasgow and the veterans are put to use. We visit with hundreds of families waiting to see their troops who have reached the end of their tour. Before, they were coming home for two weeks, now it’s for good.
Elizabeth Laird, known as “Miss Elizabeth,” hugs each soldier who flies into Fort Hood. Standing 4′9,” you could fit the 76-year-old Laird in your pocket, her hair tied with a ribbon colored in Army yellow. In January, both her daughter and husband passed away, but she still turns out nearly every day.
“I come here because then I don’t have to think about it,” she said, wiping away a single tear. “Whatever I can do to lift (the troops’) spirits.”
The Fort Hood festivities begin with families taking their seats, many with signs reminiscent of a baseball crowd. As more than 200 soldiers pack the Fort Hood gymnasium, they stand at attention, perfectly still.
But my photographer’s perch allows the angle of the each soldiers’ eyes, darting from wall to wall, trying to find the loved ones that they’ve been without for more than a year. One young woman, Nancy Grider, stands with her 10-month-old son, Alex. Husband Jeremiah has been gone for 15 months and last saw Alex when he was only 11 days old.
The family members wait with palpable anticipation, for the moment an officer yells “DISMISSED!”
Once the call comes, the soldiers and families race around like young children on Christmas Day. Hundreds of family members sob joyous tears, and everywhere I look is another picture of a father, mother, son or daughter reunited with their soldier.
I snap hundreds of photos. Yeah, there was a lot of dust in the air at the gymnasium, too.
2 Comments
February 21, 2008 at 1:06 pm
good job ell.
March 18, 2008 at 3:30 pm
I meant to say this before when I first read it, but better late than never… this is great, Elliot. (There seems to be dust in the air in my office today too… hmm.)
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