Posted on 09/26/2006 12:29:47 PM PDT by Citizen SMASH
SOME OF YOU are hitting my site regularly, waiting with great anticipation for my latest report on the Friday Code Pink protest outside Walter Reed Army Medical Center.
You're waiting in vain. I wasn't at Walter Reed on Friday.
Instead, I had dinner with my family. No, not my blood family; I dined with my military brothers and sisters, many of whom are missing a limb or two.
That's right: instead of rallying to express support for our wounded warriors outside Walter Reed, I broke bread with them at the Capitol Hill Club. (Thanks again Dave, for the invite!)
No members of Code Pink were present. And if they had been, they certainly wouldn't have been welcome. In fact, when I mentioned them to one of my brothers, he grimaced.
"Those people really piss me off," he told me.
I told him about what I've been up to for the past several weeks. He smiled. Then I asked him if he wanted to hear the audio from my "Goodnight Ladies" speech. His face lit up.
"Hell, yeah!"
I played it for him.
"Sir, that's awesome! I love seeing you guys out there every time I come back from one of these dinners. Can I have your website address?"
I wrote it down for him.
LATER, I sat down for dinner with some very interesting and inspiring men and women. Max is a one-legged paratrooper from the 101st Airborne Division. He lost his leg when his armored vehicle was hit by a 155mm anti-tank round. Since his injury, he has done four training jumps on an artificial limb. His wife, a very pretty Japanese woman, proudly showed me video of Max trying out his new "athletic prosthetic." In the clip, he runs about 50 yards before taking a tumble, but he handles the fall like a seasoned paratrooper, and is back up on his "feet" in no time at all. He tells me that he wants to get back on the track, so he can get his two mile time back down below fourteen minutes. President Bush has promised to go running with him, when he feels up to it.
Sitting next to Max was a wiry, tough-looking gentleman who never gave us his name. He chatted a bit with Max about the finer points of counter-insurgency operations, including a fascinating discussion on the proper employment of AC-130 "Spetre" gunships. The Man With No Name has apparently spent quite a bit of time in garden spots such as Iraq, Afghanistan, and various other places he vaguely described but wouldn't name. He speaks ten languages.
Sitting next to me was Natasha, a young and very slightly built African American woman. Natasha is an Army Quartermaster, who was wounded when an IED hit her truck during a convoy. She quickly applied a tourniquet to her right leg, saving her life. But she lost the leg, below the knee. She is also cursed with brittle bones, a genetic condition that has prolonged her recovery. She has been at Walter Reed for over eleven months. She's looking forward to her "birthday," as she calls the anniversary of the attack, because she considers it a miracle that she survived.
I also had a chance to chat with Veterans Affairs Secretary Jim Nicholson. Although he doesn't advertise it much, Nicholson is a regular at these events. World Bank President (and former Deputy Defense Secretary) Paul Wolfowitz is also a regular attendee, although he wasn't at this particular dinner.
The food was great: big, juicy steaks, mashed potatoes, and vegetables. There was also salad, and a wonderful desert buffet. Did I mention the open bar? You'd think that this would be a dangerous thing, to have an open bar with a bunch of wounded soldiers. But if anyone drank to excess that night, they hid it well.
Since the closing of Fran O'Brien's (Boycott Hilton!) in April, the Friday dinner has been somewhat of a traveling feast. It's been hosted by various restaurants and other venues around town, including the Italian and Thai embassies. Many community leaders have ponied up to sponsor one or several meals; the troops and their families never pay a dime.
But the central figure in keeping this tradition alive is Vietnam veteran Hal Koster, the former co-owner of Fran O'Brien's. At every meal, Hal does a drawing and hands out door prizes. This week, Max won a Yahtzee set. He already has one, so he decided to give it to one of his friends at the hospital.
AFTER DINNER, I said goodbye to Natasha, Max, and his wife as they file back to the buses. Hal invited me to join him and some of his friends for a nightcap at a small dive bar he owns in the Adams Morgan neighborhood (he asked me not to give the name of the bar, because he wants to preserve the "everybody knows your name" atmosphere).
It's no Fran O'Brien's, but I get the feeling the troops like this place much better. It's loud, smokey, the beer is cold, and the average number of legs per person is about 1.7. Nobody stares at them here. Everyone treats them like family. They are family.
This, my friends, is what it means to support the troops.
Notice that I listened to them, encouraged them, and treated them like family.
Not once did I ever mock them, or turn my back on them.
Difficult concepts, I know...
DC Chapter ping!
"Sir, that's awesome! I love seeing you guys out there every time I come back from one of these dinners. Can I have your website address?"
That is all we need to know!
Wonderful post...a feast of words!
BUMP! for a SMASHing story!
During the WRAMC freep, there were 2 different groups of young soldiers who left WRAMC and headed down to Adam Morgan. Now I have a hunch where they were headed! [One group waited so long for a taxi, I offered them a ride but they declined when they found out I'd have to check a map for directions. Missed my chance to scope out the place. :-)]
Disclaimer: Opinions posted on Free Republic are those of the individual posters and do not necessarily represent the opinion of Free Republic or its management. All materials posted herein are protected by copyright law and the exemption for fair use of copyrighted works.