One is too many

Little piece of the war came home yesterday. I was doing my day job of managing a medium size general aviation airport with a nice fleet mix of everything from small helicopters and recreational aircraft to corporate jets. I like managing in this environment as no two days are the same, and you never know who or what might show up.

Yesterday I got a call from the Army. They were flying in the remains of a local boy killed in Iraq. A military cortege met the aircraft with all due pomp and ceremony to transfer the coffin from a small jet to a hearse. Outside the fence a contingent of American Legion motorcycle riders stood ready to escort the hearse down the valley to the fallen soldiers hometown and final resting place.

It was a very sad moment. Our responsibility was to provide minimal crowd control and to corral the media. We created a barrier that let the family and press view the transfer while keeping them a safe distance from the aircraft operating area.

Several members of a Hispanic extended family were present. A lot of pain was visible. A grandmother and mother collapsed to the ground wailing in agony and were lifted and carried away by sons and fathers, husbands and cousins. The father of the soldier hurled curses in Spanish at the soldiers escorting the coffin, claiming to any who would listen that the military was covering up the truth of his son’s death.

I have traveled to many battlefields, after the fact, as a tourist and student of history. Universally I have found them clouded with sadness and haunted with the loss of life and innocence.

In those places I felt as I did yesterday that the loss of even a single life to war is one loss to many. Keeping our war like nature at arms length makes it simply to easy to justify or turn away from, until it comes to visit until it comes home.