Intertwined

Good morning. I've already been up for several hours, and it is a beautiful day.

Today is a major holiday for many, especially in my line of work. However, for far too many in our country, it is as celebrated or known as Arbor Day.

Interestingly, it is actually TWO days of note: Flag Day and the United States' Army's Birthday.

These two days are closely intertwined, as one is empty without the other.

The Army was born on 14 June 1775, predating the Declaration of Independence by slightly more than a year. The United States Army has experienced many highs, and lows, in its storied history. Glorious victories, humiliating defeats, examples of Courage and Valor, and sadly, despicable acts of criminal wrongs - all can be found in the Army's history.

On Army flags, you can find now over 180 campaign streamers. These streamers document the many cases where the Army has seen action, oft in battles lost to the history books. Scrolling through the list of streamers is easily a reminder of our nation's history - as our country expanded and encountered challenges from other nations and from within, the Army was there. (Of interest, if ever given the opportunity, definitely watch an Army streamer ceremony where each streamer is attached to the Army flag. It's dramatic.)

Two years after the Army was born, and nearly a year after declaring our Independence, the Continental Congress adopted our national flag. Ever since, the flag of the United States, in its various incarnations, has been carried proudly to all corners of the world and seen both deeply below the surface and from the roof of the world. It's also been carried to the Moon.

On the right shoulder of my uniform, there is a patch of the US Flag. It's commonly thought to be backwards, yet it is meant to be viewed as if it's always advancing. The flag would not be without the US Army (to be fair, our sister services also play an important role). And throughout history, armies follow and fight for their country's flag. Is it any wonder that one of the more iconic images in our nation's memory is the raising of the flag over Iwo Jima (yes, yes, I know... It was raised by Marines, and we love them for it)?

Our own National Anthem captures the spirit of the meaningfulness of the flag flying, as remembered during the Battle of 1812. The capital already burned, our nascent nation's future was easily at stake as the British worked their way north. In Baltimore, they came upon Fort McHenry. A pitched battle ensued, and there was serious question as to whom might prevail.
"Whose broad stripes and bright stars through the perilous fight,..." and "...Gave proof through the night that our flag was still there." captures that vision of the next morning seeing the flag still flying defiantly.

Today, there may be much grumbling as people start a fresh week at work. However, it is a special day. Today, we (should) honor both our Army which has stood watch on the erstwhile ramparts of our nation and the Flag which has flown over our free land and home of the brave. May they both continue to do so.

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As Feared...

Yesterday was a primary election in 12 states.  For months, we've read about how America is fed up with the people in Congress.  The approval rating is in the low teens.

Tea Parties are held across the country.

"Throw the bums out!" is the common outcry.

Yet, yesterday... 97 out of 98 incumbents survived.  So, essentially... as feared... "They're all bad, except for my guy... he's good."

Sigh.  Is there any hope for real change?

Arlington

This is starting to break out... all over.

I first noted something from my FB feed from Army Times.  They posted a small blurb of a column noting the pending retirement of the Arlington Cemetery Superintendent:

Arlington Cemetery superintendent retiring

The Associated Press
Posted : Wednesday Jun 9, 2010 7:54:49 EDT

WASHINGTON — The superintendent of Arlington National Cemetery for the past 19 years is retiring.
John C. Metzler Jr. has worked for the government for 42 years and says his last day will be July 2.
The 62-year-old’s father was also superintendent at the cemetery outside the nation’s capital.
He said the high point of his career was expanding the cemetery for veterans and their families so it could continue to take new burials until 2060.
In November, Secretary of the Army John McHugh ordered an investigation into allegations of lost accountability of some graves, poor record keeping and other issues at Arlington.
Metzler said those issues weren’t as bad as had been reported.

Read the end, again.  It's barely even seems worth mentioning, right?  And the Superintendent, the guy under investigation, says it's not that bad.

Before I delve further, I have a question for Mr. Metzler.  Given the allegations of "lost accountability of some graves", what would be not as bad as reported?  The only thing I can think of would be... no lost accountability.  Anything else IS as bad as reported.  These are the graves of our servicemembers... and their spouses.  The Heroes of our Nation.  All cemeteries are special; our veteran and national cemeteries especially so.  However, while the cemeteries across the nation are likely known only to those connected to the ones interred there, Arlington is special.  It's immortalized in stories, poems, movies...  and this video from Trace Adkins:  Arlington.  Listen to the words.  The Army has dedicated an entire regiment, the Old Guard, to tend to those at Arlington.

Arlington is special.  Hallowed ground.

So, to refer back to the innocuous column from the Army Times, what are these issues?

From Salon, there are allegations of graves not marked, remains unknown (and no, not the ones at the Tomb of the Unknown).  Also, there are further allegations, of general disregard by the staff for mementoes and meaningful items left behind by those who visit the graves. 

Sigh.

When I first heard about this, my immediate question was... "How?"  And I think it comes back to how a certain jadedness sets in.  It's common wherever you work.  When I was at a call-center, I reminded my agents that while the customer may ask what to them were "stupid questions", to the customer they were the first time they'd asked the question and it was certainly important to them.

In the hospital climate I work in now, it is certainly easy to slide into your patients becoming just a procedure... not a person.

We encountered this a few years back at Walter Reed.  The scandal there brought down generals and the Secretary of the Army.

Who will answer to these allegations?  Will criminal charges be pursued?  If the fundamental notion of your job description as a Superintendent of a cemetery is to properly inter and care for the remains of our fallen, then I presume that allegations of misplaced and/or unknown remains and poor care of the cemetery will reflect a gross failure in that position, at a minimum.

Properly?  Punish.  Make the example.  Let it be clear that in a time where media and protesters can seem to almost revel in counting the numbers of our dead that our fallen are not merely numbers, not merely another task to do before going home for the day - they are our fallen Heroes, and more importantly, they are, or were,  meaningful to someone.  They were at least a Son or Daughter, and quite possibly also Husbands, Wives, Brothers, Sisters... Fathers and Mothers.

A key part of working there should be the fundamental realization and internalization of that simple fact.  If that's not possible, please work somewhere else.  There are thousands who would gladly work there and who would show the proper respect to those permanent residents of Arlington.

In the meantime, let's see our senior officials take immediate steps to ensure the command climate at Arlington properly reflects the special nature of Arlington.  It's not a lot to ask those charged with the care of the cemetery to give a damn; after all, those in their trust gave every last measure.

Awards Ceremony

Frustrated. No, ticked. Ok... I'm not sure what word I want to use.

Such *horrible* behavior by parents at M's award ceremony. Constant talking, talking on phones, and general disrespect to the students receiving awards. It's tough to teach T good behavior when surrounded by bad behavior. Really, could you not catch up on your various husbands' prostate problems, restraining orders, and how other children didn't really earn awards until later???

Kudos to the parents who did show up, even the one who reeked of alcohol (hey, she did make the effort...)

Jeers to the parents who left (noisily) after their kid's name was called.

Humorous moment: "Perfect Attendance, but not here today..."

Guess it's the way of the world today... Everyone gets awards. Not kidding. As they called names, the student would stand. 14 classes... Every kid stood for something. If every one gets an award for being special, what is special?

Ugh.
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Memorial Day

I had to work.  I didn't want to be there; none of us did.  But, hospitals are open 24/7/365, and people still get sick and hurt.

We had struck a deal that we would work Memorial Day in exchange for getting 4th of July off.  To be honest, it seemed like a good deal.  It's difficult for me to wrap my head around the concept of "celebrating" Memorial Day.  To me, it's more a time for somber reflection.  Given that the mass public has merged Memorial Day and Veterans' Day into all-encompassing "Thank those who serve" holidays, it's easier to just work, anyway.  (Granted, I like that the public does want to thank the troops, but... I feel like channeling Monty Python and saying, "I'm not dead yet!")

So, I'm at work.  And quickly, the discontentment of our shift sets in.  We discover that there will be no civilians joining us.  Admittedly, it rubs us a bit the wrong way because it is a "military" holiday.  Unlike Thanksgiving, this is a holiday about the troops and it was easy fodder that the troops were working while the civilians were home.  And then, we realized the normally scheduled military shift wasn't coming in, either.  Some shifts are more equal than others, apparently.  Yes, we'd all agreed to work our normal schedules, yet somehow the military techs scheduled to work Monday morning were... absent.  So be it.  We'll embrace the suck and do our job.

And we did.  While we were short staffed by over 70%, we tackled things well.  Sure, we were being bitchy and griping, but it was the fun sort.  We kept coming up with new ways to complain.  It's what Soldiers do... fairly well.  Gripe.  Time-honored tradition.

And then, the day changed.  We got a patient, a very special patient.  Now, I can't tell you who he was, but he was a Medal of Honor recipient.

What are the chances?  A MoH patient on Memorial Day.  Naturally, we couldn't resist learning more about who was coming in.  His citation was... humbling.  In today's Army, most of us worry about survival.  We do everything to ensure our survival.  And in the medical field, well... we're not likely to be charging the enemy any time soon.

My Patient, a member of Company X, distinguished himself by conspicuous gallantry and intrepidity above and beyond the call of duty in action against the enemy.

His platoon, in defensive positions on Hill XXX, came under ruthless attack by a numerically superior and fanatical hostile force, accompanied by heavy artillery, mortar, and machinegun fire which inflicted numerous casualties on the platoon.
His comrades were forced to withdraw due to lack of ammunition but My Patient, although wounded in an exchange of grenades, continued to deliver deadly fire into the ranks of the onrushing assailants until a ruptured cartridge rendered his rifle inoperative.
Immediately leaving his position, My Patient rushed the enemy armed only with rifle and bayonet.
Fearlessly engaging the foe, he killed 6 of the enemy before falling unconscious from grenade, bayonet, and bullet wounds but his heroic action momentarily halted the enemy advance and enabled his unit to counterattack and retake the lost ground.
The indomitable fighting spirit, outstanding courage, and tenacious devotion to duty clearly demonstrated by My Patient reflect the highest credit upon himself, the infantry, and the U.S. Army.

 Let's read that again... his rifle was inoperative.  He'd already been wounded.  His buddies retreated.  It says he charged armed only with rifle and bayonet, but... the rifle was inoperative.  He's charging machineguns armed with a knife and a club.  And he's wounded.  He was 20 at the time.  Just 20.

I'm not sure about others, but... when I read citations like that, I can't help but wonder... would I do the same?  Could I do the same?  Machismo requires me to say, "Of course!"  But, in reality... I don't know.  I'd like to think I could... that I would... but, it's the Medal of Honor precisely because such actions are rare. 

And so, I'm helping him through multitudes of exams.  Some of them, I'm standing there holding him during his x-ray... he's much older now than from the time of the citation... but, his sixty year old wounds are still plainly visible.  The effects permanent.  And to see the wounds radiologically...  My respect increases.  And I stand there, holding him.  Looking into his eyes.  And he to me.  The trust in there to help him find what's bothering him.

I think of all the speeches and ceremonies he's been to and heard over the years; the pomp and gratitude that comes with living to receive the Medal of Honor.  And my vocabulary fails me.  And I know he wants to just be himself, to not be identified only by the Medal... but, I can't help myself.  I lean down and whisper, "I know you've heard it many times, but... 'Thank you' for your service."  What else can I say?  And I don't want to focus on it.  He is a patient...

And right there, with him, I didn't want to complain about working any more.  I was honored to have been there... to have my life path intersect, however briefly, with someone so special.

But it turns out, that that wasn't why I was working that day.

Towards the end of the day, another of the long stream of patients came in.  Nothing special indicated on this patient's chart, but... little did I know.  She says her foot hurts.  So, I start a foot exam.  During the exam, I notice her extensive tattoos... memorial tattoos.  and they're excellent and quite detailed.  I compliment her on her tattoos.  And as the words come out, I notice the date on the dog tag... the man memorialized... died a few months ago.

And, her voice starts to waver.  I look, and it's like looking back in time and into a mirror.  I see me... a few years ago.  When the pain was still incredibly raw and on the surface.  When you're trying to go on, trying to put a brave face for the world, trying to... play the role the world wants you to play - that it's all ok and you're moving on.  Yet, inside, you can't... you're nowhere near ready.

The exam can wait.  I start to talk to her... and share my experience.  Her eyes meet mine and lock.  The desperation... the hope... to meet someone who knows, who has been there.  We talk for quite a bit... I run x-rays throughout the exam... but, mostly, I talk.  She really is a peek back in time.

And I try to offer her that Hope.  To cut through the tons of grief counseling BS that she's no doubt heard... from people who haven't lost their True Love prematurely.  And we talk... and talk... and she talks... and I reassure.  I don't promise that it ill get better.  I tell her that it doesn't... that she will adjust and adapt to it.  And the healing is long-time.  To not feel rushed... no matter what The World expects of her... To take it at her own pace.

We hug... I feel the desperation and rawness in her clutching embrace.  And I know why I worked today.

Memorial Day... barbecues and beaches for some... for others, the reason for the holiday is all too close.  The wounds of war are long-lasting, and we carry them either on our own bodies or in the Hearts of those who love us and hold us close... waiting for us to come home, whether we actually do or not.

What an Honor it was to work this Memorial Day.