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<p class=MsoNormal><span style='font-size:12.0pt;font-family:"Comic Sans MS";
color:blue'><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class=MsoNormal><span style='font-size:12.0pt;font-family:"Comic Sans MS";
color:blue'>Ladies and Gentlemen,<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class=MsoNormal><span style='font-size:12.0pt;font-family:"Comic Sans MS";
color:blue'><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class=MsoNormal><span style='font-size:12.0pt;font-family:"Comic Sans MS";
color:blue'>Please pardon the intrusion but I thought you might want to read
the article below. I found it quite motivating.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class=MsoNormal><span style='font-size:12.0pt;font-family:"Comic Sans MS";
color:blue'><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class=MsoNormal><span style='font-size:12.0pt;font-family:"Comic Sans MS";
color:blue'>Thank you.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class=MsoNormal><span style='font-size:12.0pt;font-family:"Comic Sans MS";
color:blue'><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class=MsoNormal><span style='font-size:12.0pt;font-family:"Comic Sans MS";
color:blue'>Steve Lucas<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class=MsoNormal><span style='font-size:12.0pt;font-family:"Comic Sans MS";
color:blue'>Deputy State Captain<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class=MsoNormal><span style='font-size:12.0pt;font-family:"Comic Sans MS";
color:blue'>North Texas PGR<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class=MsoNormal><span style='font-size:12.0pt;font-family:"Comic Sans MS";
color:blue'><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class=MsoNormal><span style='color:black'>Joe Galloway - Co-author of
"We Were Soldiers Once... And Young" <br>
<br>
<strong><span style='font-family:"Calibri","sans-serif"'>FRIDAY MORNING AT THE
PENTAGON</span></strong><b><br>
<strong><span style='font-family:"Calibri","sans-serif"'>By JOSEPH L. GALLOWAY</span></strong><br>
<strong><span style='font-family:"Calibri","sans-serif"'>McClatchy Newspapers</span></strong></b><br>
<br>
Over the last 12 months, 1,042 soldiers, Marines, sailors and Air Force<br>
personnel have given their lives in the terrible duty that is war.<br>
Thousands more have come home on stretchers, horribly wounded and facing<br>
months or years in military hospitals..<br>
<br>
This week, I'm turning my space over to a good friend and former<br>
roommate, Army Lt. Col. Robert Bateman, who recently completed a<br>
yearlong tour of duty in Iraq and is now back at the Pentagon.<br>
<br>
Here's Lt. Col. Bateman's account of a little-known ceremony that fills<br>
the halls of the Army corridor of the Pentagon with cheers, applause and<br>
many tears every Friday morning. It first appeared on May 17 on the<br>
Weblog of media critic and pundit Eric Alterman at the Media Matters<br>
for America Website.<br>
<br>
"It is 110 yards from the "E" ring to the "A" ring of
the Pentagon. This<br>
section of the Pentagon is newly renovated; the floors shine, the<br>
hallway is broad, and the lighting is bright. At this instant the<br>
entire length of the corridor is packed with officers, a few sergeants<br>
and some civilians, all crammed tightly three and four deep against the<br>
walls. There are thousands here.<br>
<br>
This hallway, more than any other, is the `Army' hallway. The G3<br>
offices line one side, G2 the other, G8 is around the corner. All Army.<br>
Moderate conversations flow in a low buzz. Friends who may not have<br>
seen each other for a few weeks, or a few years, spot each other, cross<br>
the way and renew.<br>
<br>
Everyone shifts to ensure an open path remains down the center. The air<br>
conditioning system was not designed for this press of bodies in this<br>
area. The temperature is rising already. Nobody cares. <br>
<br>
10:36 hours: The clapping starts at the E-Ring. That is the outer most<br>
of the five rings of the Pentagon and it is closest to the entrance to<br>
the building. This clapping is low, sustained, hearty. It is
applause<br>
with a deep emotion behind it as it moves forward in a wave down the<br>
length of the hallway.<br>
<br>
A steady rolling wave of sound it is, moving at the pace of the soldier<br>
in the wheelchair who marks the forward edge with his presence. He is<br>
the first. He is missing the greater part of one leg, and some of his<br>
wounds are still suppurating. By his age I expect that he is a private,<br>
or perhaps a private first class.<br>
<br>
Captains, majors, lieutenant colonels and colonels meet his gaze and nod<br>
as they applaud, soldier to soldier. <br>
<br>
Three years ago when I described one of these events, those lining the<br>
hallways were somewhat different. The applause a little wilder, perhaps<br>
in private guilt for not having shared in the burden. Yet.<br>
<br>
Now almost everyone lining the hallway is, like the man in the<br>
wheelchair, also a combat veteran. This steadies the applause, but I<br>
think deepens the sentiment. We have all been there now. The
soldier's<br>
chair is pushed by, I believe, a full colonel. Behind him, and<br>
stretching the length from Rings E to A, come more of his peers, each<br>
private, corporal, or sergeant assisted as need be by a field grade<br>
officer.<br>
<br>
11:00 hours: Twenty-four minutes of steady applause. My hands hurt, and<br>
I laugh to myself at how stupid that sounds in my own head. My hands<br>
hurt. Please! Shut up and clap. For twenty-four minutes, soldier after<br>
soldier has come down this hallway - 20, 25, 30. Fifty-three legs come<br>
with them, and perhaps only 52 hands or arms, but down this hall came 30<br>
solid hearts.<br>
<br>
They pass down this corridor of officers and applause, and then meet for<br>
a private lunch, at which they are the guests of honor, hosted by the<br>
generals. Some are wheeled along. Some insist upon getting out of<br>
their chairs, to march as best they can with their chin held up, down<br>
this hallway, through this most unique audience. Some are catching<br>
handshakes and smiling like a politician at a Fourth of July parade.<br>
More than a couple of them seem amazed and are smiling shyly.<br>
<br>
There are families with them as well: the 18-year-old war-bride pushing<br>
her 19-year-old husband's wheelchair and not quite understanding why her<br>
husband is so affected by this, the boy she grew up with, now a man, who<br>
had never shed a tear is crying; the older immigrant Latino parents who<br>
have, perhaps more than their wounded mid-20s son, an appreciation for<br>
the emotion given on their son's behalf. No man in that hallway,<br>
walking or clapping, is ashamed by the silent tears on more than a few<br>
cheeks. An Airborne Ranger wipes his eyes only to better see. A
couple<br>
of the officers in this crowd have themselves been a part of this parade<br>
in the past.<br>
<br>
These are our men, broken in body they may be, but they are our<br>
brothers, and we welcome them home. This parade has gone on, every<br>
single Friday, all year long, for more than four years.<br>
<br>
Did you know that? The media hasn't yet told the story. And
probably<br>
never will.<br>
<br>
<br>
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