In the Company of the Brave
May 29, 2007
by Kit Jarrell
T oday I begin writing this at 36,000 feet in the air, looking down on Charleston or Little Rock or whatever other all-American places are in between Washington, D.C. and Dallas. I still have another flight before I get home to Tulsa.
My body is tired from walking so many miles this weekend, from staying up too late and getting up too early. I want my own pillow, my own shower, and my own kitchen. I am emotionally and physically exhausted, and yet when I get home a long list of tasks await me, including an exam that I haven’t been able to study for.
Underneath it all, none of that matters. I am on my way home from the Rolling Thunder/Gathering of Eagles II Rally. My soul is singing, for I have spent two days with heroes.
I don’t even know how to describe my feelings toward these men, these amazing people who know what it is to expect their own death but still, simultaneously and with all they have, fight for the lives of others. All of them—whether they are 80-year-old men who still remember Bastogne, or 20-year-old boys who grew old at Fallujah—are people who I look up to, who I envy for their incredible courage and grace, who I cry for at their nightmares and memories. This weekend I was able to hug so many of them and tell them that the media is wrong. Americans support them. I support them.
From the moment I first laid eyes on the ocean of red, white, blue and chrome, I was in love. Everywhere there were motorcycles, all different shapes and sizes. But almost as prominent as the bikes were the flags—more flags than I’ve ever seen. Every size you could think of, everywhere you could think to put them. There were small ones, poking out of hats and lapels, all the way up to gorgeously furling American colors streaming behind so many bikes.
Everyone I met had a story, a loved one who served or a name on the Wall. Everyone seemed to wear their lives on their jackets, testaments to their experiences and memories of those who never came home. They were all beautifully real, incredibly sincere. I saw many men who were not ashamed to cry that day.
I listened to a soldier from the United States Army Band sing our country’s national anthem in a way that made me think he might be an angel. Then I said the Pledge of Allegiance along with a young man who is willingly spending the rest of his life with one leg for my freedom, and I knew he was an angel.
One by one, these men stood up to speak, to thank us for caring, and ask us not to give up on them or their mission. It occurred to me while I stood there listening to these amazing, selfless people that never in our country’s history should the day have come when the defenders of our freedom have to beg us to stand and support them in their mission to protect us. I was suddenly sick to my stomach at the thought.
Standing on the stage later that afternoon, I looked out to the steps of the Lincoln Memorial, and the larger-than-life man who sits there still, watching the country that he held together through faith, determination, and an unspeakable courage. How sad he would be, I thought, to know that we have to plead with our leadership to show just a fraction of the intestinal fortitude that he did. I sang my song feeling as though I wasn’t worthy to stand there.
I walked around to chat with people, to see their signs and hear their stories. I hugged them tightly, planting kisses on their cheeks with tearful thanks for the incredible gift they have given me.
On Sunday I was present at the Rolling Thunder ride, one of the hundreds of thousands of people who lined the streets to watch hundreds of thousands more ride through on every manner of bike you could imagine. I was with a family of patriots, and we could not have been more excited—or sweaty, in the August-like humidity. We crowded the side of the street to wave and yell in support of the thousands of bikes as they rode by, flags streaming proudly behind them.
I had heard of a Marine who stands in the median and salutes as all the bikes go by. I needed to see this for myself, and when I asked someone about it they said, “The Marine? He’s right down there. Just go around this way and down to the corner.”
I ran.
It’s silly now to think of, but somehow I was afraid he wouldn’t be there anymore if I moved slowly, if I took my time walking down there. I should have known better. The Marines never just quit.
As I drew closer to the corner the crowd thickened considerably, and yet everyone moved when I asked to get by. “I need to see the Marine,” I would say, and the others would nod and let me pass. They understood.
Finally I stood in the best place I could, and there he was, saluting proudly, wearing his dress blues, medals glinting in the sun. He looked like a lion there, regally standing, ever vigilant. His face was lined with the memories of conflict, but his eyes were those of a resolute warrior. His arm never faltered and his feet never moved, even though standing in the heat and sun must have been incredibly draining. For 45 minutes he stood there with his fingers at his brow—statuesque, a testament to the stamina, the fortitude, and the selflessness of the Marine Corps.
I kept taking pictures until the tears blurred my eyes. My heart simply broke as I watched veteran after veteran ride by this man and salute him back. All these men have given so much, for so long. Everything washed over me then, and I cried for it all: their missing limbs and loved ones, their nightmares and tragedies, their tiny homes underneath white stone at Arlington. They gave themselves, and sometimes lost everything, but in their sacrifice we stand here today, more free than any people on earth. I could not ever repay them. None of us could.
I finish writing this as I sit on my couch in Tulsa, with my little boy playing outside safely and John Wayne leading Marine pilots into battle on the TV. I am blessed, for I live in the company of the brave.
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I went to Arlington on Sunday, but YEP!
Reading through my tears, I am so glad you were there and put just some of your emotions into words. Where can we see pictures of THE MARINE? Jerry and I went to Salinas for the unveiling of the VietNam Memorial. The dream that took 20 years to come true. An amazing waving flag made of red, white and blue Granite. Here is a link to a picture gallery.
http://www.kodakgallery.com/I.jsp?c=m3k5w8r.bahtoo2f&x=0&y=a4ml3l
Proud to be an AMERICAN!
Cindy Stanley
Monterey, Calif.
Sgt. Tibbs was pretty amazing wasn’t he? He stayed until the last bike passed him.
EAGLE FRIENDSHIP
A FRIEND IS ONE THAT KNOWS YOU AS YOU ARE, UNDERSTANDS WHERE YOU HAVE BEEN, ACCEPTS WHAT YOU HAVE BECOME , AND STIL, GENTLY ALLOWS YOU TO GROW.
WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE
&
THE GATHERING OF EAGLES
WE EAGLES, REGARDLES OF ANYTHING ON EARTH WILL ALWAYS BE FRIENDS.
LET NOTHING EVER TAKE THAT AWAY FROM US. NEARTH TIME, OR DISTANCE WILL EVER SEPERATE OUR BREED AGAIN
THANK YOU FOR ALLOWING ME TO STAND WITH YOU,. AFTER 40 YEARS.
Awesome, Kit. Thank you for being there and for what you do.
Bill Faith
Proud Veteran-American
Kit,
Your song, “Over There” is playing in the background as I write this. I’ve listened to it dozens of times, yet can never reach the end without tears in my eyes. Thank you for being so eloquent in describing how GOE II affected so many of us. The EAGLES are making a difference across our Nation and you are a significant reason for our success.
Friday night, a group of Eagles went to Walter Reed and joined the Free Republic folks. What a group of courages and patriotic Americans they are. It was an honor and a humbling experience to get to stand with them, showing our support for our recovering heros. They have been at the tip of the spear for so long, but the Eagles are UP now to support them. Any Eagle in DC on a Friday night should meet the Freepers at WR and participate. Trust me, you will get so much more out of the experience than you could possibly give.
I rode with hubby in Rolling Thunders Run to the Wall on Sunday from the Pentagon. We rode through miles of Americans, waving, saluting, clapping, praising, thanking, flags and banners in a sea of red, white and blue.
For Free Republics hospitality on Friday, Rolling Thunder’s support for the GOE II Rally on Saturday and the Run to the Wall on Sunday, and to you Kit, for all you do for Gathering of Eagles… Bravo Zulu!!!
Proud American
Proud EAGLE
Deborah
Kit
From the mouths of babes.
I think I speak for all of us when I say how very proud of you we are. For many of us you are the little sister or daughter we never had. Your words give us strength. It brings us comfort to know that you will be there when we are no longer able to stand for what is right.
FYI: The Marine on the corner is Sgt Tim Chambers. He has stood at attention saluting as every motorcycle roars past him for the past several years (typically 3+ hours!). I had the honor of meeting Sgt Chambers several years ago and I asked him why he did this. Without hesitation Sgt Chambers told me it was the best way he knew to honor those who had gone before him, those who had given him freedom.
You, Kit, like Sgt Chambers, give us old “warhorses” hope for the future. We know, dispite all the ugliness on the other side of the street, that they can never take away our hope. Thank you for standing up! Sleep well, for Eagles surround you and God watches over you.
Soapbox
IF NOT US, WHO? IF NOT NOW, WHEN?
Wow Kit… that was great! I too, had to see “The Marine” and I was honored to stand just 15 feet from wear he stood… for hours. Each time I would shift my body to ease my muscles, I’d look at him in bewilderment… for his body never shifted, I never saw a muscle twitch in his body.
I attended this time with my daddy, a USMC Vietnam Vet, and we owe so much to a fellow eagle that gave my daddy her own “sky miles” to make this trip…. Trina Fox, for she is the one that we owe so much to for giving us the opportunity to make such wonderful memories!
I am so honored to have had the opportunity to be a part of the 20th Anniversary of Rolling Thunder’s “Run to the Wall”.
Curious… is there a method to edit after we hit submit? I noticed typos & I used “wear” when I meant “where”….
Kit,
Eloquently written. You are blessed with the ability to describe both what you see and how you feel.
I had the pleasure of meeting Sgt. Chambers (Tim), 2 years ago at the RFTW. Our group took him to dinner and had the pleasure of meeting his family and hearing Tim speak of his mission to honor the vets who were mistreated upon their return from Vietnam. Tim is really quite a guy and could easily persue a career in standup comedy. He brought tears to our eyes when we saw him standing in the middle of the parade route, and had us laughing until we cried at dinner. He IS a true American Hero.
Thank you for your song . . . and all that you do.
Bill, thank you so much for letting me know that Marine’s name. Now when I give thanks for him, God knows exactly who I’m talking about. =)
Kit,,,You never did answer me..Do you ever sleep? I will be listening to your show from my D.C. hotel room tonight. I’ll see if I can get throught by phone. Thank you,,,You ARE the Heart of Gathering Of Eagles…..Your Friend Jim…..”EAGLES UP”
Dear Kit,
As a Marine, I can tell you that it is because of Americans like YOU, that people like me volunteered for the war in Vietnam, and all wars to come! I admire you beyond words,—and thank God for true Americans that support their Military.
GOD BLESS YOU!
SEMPER FIDELIS
USMCmailman 3RD Marine Division RVN 68/69
Kit,
I’m a lifelong linguaphile, and I especially love the English language. I also appreciate beautiful flower gardens. In your essay–or more aptly, journal entry–you have provided a veritable flower garden of words!! And in every well done flower garden, it seems there is always one flower–large or small–that catches the admirer’s eye and perhaps even takes his breath away. Your phrase: ” . . . their tiny homes underneath white stone at Arlington. . . . ” was just such a flower for me in your garden of verbiage. Thank you for a wonderful experience. And thank you for all else you do!!
Kit
Mr Lambert could not have said it better and I must thank him. You see each year while in DC for our protest ride I am able to visit my father at his “tiny home underneath white stone at Arlington” I say visit because I beleive his spirit lives there amoung the rest of those who gave so much for God and Country. I often bring a friend or two to meet my Pops and to share a drink with him. I and those friends always seem to leave a bit sad but somehow strenghtened to continue our fight.
Again thank you Kit AND thank you Mr Lambert for helping me to get that out
Dear Kit, You are eloquent . . .articulate in a way that touches each of us in our patriot heart of hearts. Thank you for everything you do and have done to keep us going.
I stayed here in Appleton Maine because right now my best role is in front of my students. I add one voice to the many in D.C. or at Westpoint, but here in our town of 1200, I am ‘the music teacher’, and I am the one to teach them the strength of America, and the sacrifice of so many for us to be free through our patriotic songs and how they came to be. It may sound self-centered, and I surely don;t mean it that way. We begin every concert with the National Anthem, we celebrate our veterans with a special luncheon just before Veteran’s Day, we have just finished 7th and 8th grade video interviews to add to the Library of Congress site of the Veterans History Project, 6th graders are wrapping up a ‘USO’ type show to tape and send to troops in Iraq and Afghanistan. In a land where liberals have the media and would hand over our children and grandchildren, we must be doubly aware in our schools to tell the truth in our history.
We will be in Kennebunkport to celebrate America in August. Thanks for all you’ve done, Kit!
KIT J.
MY RESPECTS TO YOU,. LADY EAGLE.
A MAN DOE’S WHAT HE MUST-IN SPITE OF PERSONAL CONSEQUENCES, IN SPITE OF OBSTACLES ,AND DANGER,AND PRESSURE, AND THAT IS THE BASIS OF ALL MORALITY
JOHN F. KENNEDY
PRESIDENT
UNITED STATES OF AMERICA