FAREWELL: The final salute
Tossing and turning in our cots, 4 a.m. and not a wink of sleep around the base as thoughts repeating the week’s attacks raced through our heads. Giving up on sleep, one by one we sat up and prepared for the day.
This day being different than all others took more than just a quick change to prepare for. Dragging my feet to the latrines, the sink became a welcoming sight for my wash and shave. Heading back to my cot I drew my cleanest uniform out and laid it out for the day, going over it with a fine-toothed comb. It seemed there was always quite a bit of hair and lint attached to unforseen locations.
Thoroughly I shined my boots paying close attention to every little detail, careful not to miss a single millimeter. As I topped the cake with my patrol cap, another once over to make sure my uniform was flawless I stepped out into the chilled morning.
Our team ranked up and solemly made way toward the airfield, a feeling of loss and silence taking over the group. When we arrived on the tarmac there was a C-5 Galaxy perched and fueling for its trip. The sobering sight was the cargo that waited in front of the bird. A total of six draped flags hung above the tarmac with I.D. tags hanging from the caskets. My heart sank as I caught sight of the two far left.
A sergeant and specialist from our unit awaited the long trip back to the states, their humvee being the target of a recent attack and were sadly headed back to the states before the rest of us. As we finished up our prayers and good-byes, we regrouped two unforgettable men short.
As the draped flags were loaded into the plane other uniforms were emerging from buildings all across the base. Never had I felt stronger combinations of honor, respect, as well as loss. Over the course of our time here, we had been disrespected, shot at, our vehicles blown up, as well as our base, and all this was done together. In no other circumstance do you develop a stronger bond of respect and brotherhood than when fighting the bombs, bullets, and shrapnel as brothers and sisters for freedom.
Looking on as the C-5 roared to life, the slack in the crowd stiffened and all eyes were on the waiting transport. As I looked on, I noticed two clouded figures in front of the plane; the sergeant and specialist were standing rigid and professional, clicked their heels and saluted without flaw. As a tear slowly fell to my cheek I raised hand to brow and returned salute to my brothers in arms. As the pilot high geared the plane, the figures drifted away. Under my breath I whispered a proud, “See you soon, my brothers.”
With a collective and organized movement, the entire base joined into THE FINAL SALUTE!
GREGORY HOLT
Coeur d’Alene