The other night I was trying to get from one South West Asian hot spot to another and happened to find myself stranded in Qatar at Al Udeid Air Force Base. I and 153 of my closest friends were well and truly pissed at the Air Force for stranding us. They had promised a tailgate swap. (you walk off one plane and on to another to continue the flight) That was 20 hours earlier. By early evening, we were all tired, dusty, needed a little attention paid to personal hygiene and were generally ready to get the "&^#% out of Dodge".
Just after dark work on the airfield ceased.
Prior to dusk, the "aerial porters", the young airmen assigned to handle the myriad tasks on the runway and taxiway of the air field had been running around seemingly without focus. It seemed without focus, but based on the amount of "stuff" they had shoved into the back of the C-17s, C-130s and the occasional 747 on the runway, they must have known what they were about.
Anyway, all activity ceased.
Pilots, "Aerial Porters" and generic airmen began to assemble on one of the taxiways behind a C-17. They sort of "formed up". I would say they "...got into formation..." but this is the Air Force we're talking about and formations ain't their long suit. After about 10 minutes, four unmarked panel vans pulled up and backed towards the loading ramp of the C-17 and again suddenly the “formation” stopped moving about. Soldiers in the holding area with me were drawn to the strange occurrences on the aircraft ramp and they accumulated along the fence where I was standing.
There appeared to be no rhyme or reason to this new inactivity.
After a minute or so, a small detachment broke off from the "formation" and made its way to the rear of the first panel van. The detachment formed two neat rows and manhandled a box from the rear of the van. As the box came out of the back of the van we could tell it was covered with an American flag. A hush fell over the mob I was standing with. Many of the soldiers moved into a position to better observe the goings on and then without command and apparently all of one accord, we came to attention.
The detachment moved smartly into position and the "formation" came to attention simultaneously. Apparently someone ordered the formation to present arms and surprisingly smartly for the Air Force, the entire formation presented arms. The detachment carefully made their way through the formation, up the ramp and into the hold of the C-17. The formation held their salute but there was no other activity to be seen.
Shortly the formation dropped their salute and the same detachment made their way down the ramp and to the rear of the next panel van. After a moment, the detachment manhandled a second box out of the van, got into position and began to make its way back to the ramp. The formation presented arms again and the process repeated itself three more times. The formation fell apart and the "Aerial Porters" were very quickly back at it, running hither thither and yon, afoot and “aforklift”.
The mob I was a part of fell apart and some when back to smoking and joking while others quietly made their way back into the “passenger terminal” (as the tent we were waiting in was grandly referred to).
I had a little time to think as I reassumed my perch on the steps to the latrine to await the inevitable “we’ve got another problem” song and dance, from the aircraft scheduler who was trying to get my “friends” and I back in the air.
I had just witnessed Airmen, who didn’t know the Soldiers in the “transfer cases” (a euphemism for the temporary coffins we use to move human remains) stop whatever they were doing to pay a final respect to a fellow warrior. They did it with a sense of reverence, not begrudgingly or because it got them out of something they’d rather not be doing, but because it was the right thing to do. There wasn’t a “band” or a “color guard” or even an “honor guard” in the polished and practiced sense of the word, just a bunch of tired Airmen doing their best for four comrades, they didn’t know, who had given their “last full measure of devotion”.
The really curious part to me wasn’t the Airmen though – they sadly perform that ritual many times a week. The curious part was the reaction of the Soldiers I was with. We were far enough away to not be a part of the proceedings but became a part anyway. Because we were not official members of the honor party, we didn’t salute and really weren’t “standing tall at the position of attention” but we were quiet, reverent and reflective. There was a palpable sense of “there but for the Grace of God go I”. When it was over, we went back to “hurrying up and waiting” though far quieter and more introspective than we had been.
But, in a larger sense, we can not dedicate -- we can not consecrate -- we can not hallow -- this ground. The brave men, living and dead, who struggled here, have consecrated it, far above our poor power to add or detract. The world will little note, nor long remember what we say here, but it can never forget what they did here. It is for us the living, rather, to be dedicated here to the unfinished work which they who fought here have thus far so nobly advanced. It is rather for us to be here dedicated to the great task remaining before us -- that from these honored dead we take increased devotion to that cause for which they gave the last full measure of devotion -- that we here highly resolve that these dead shall not have died in vain -- that this nation, under God, shall have a new birth of freedom -- and that government of the people, by the people, for the people, shall not perish from the earth.
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