First in Battle

He was turning 88.

His wife—an elegant, poised, seemingly majestic woman—sat across from him. Surrounding the rest of the table were their children and their spouses. One of his birthday gifts sat directly in front of him: a huge carton of RedVines. (I guess the man was known for his sweet tooth.)

Some co-workers and I came out to sing the Brazilian “happy birthday” song to him. His eyes glimmered and an infectious smile crept across his crinkly face as we butchered the Portuguese we were singing in. My mind was elsewhere. Refills to table 13, bring check to table 25, dessert tray to 15, ring in lemonades for 24 . . .

The song ended. I said a quick, customary “Happy birthday, sir” and went off to take care of the rest of my tables. But as I turned to leave, the old man caught me by the arm.

“Young lady,” he said.

My heart quickened as he pulled me closer.

“You go home and tell all your friends that this was the day you were kissed on the hand by a Marine! “

He gingerly lifted my hand to his lips, as if he was about to sip from a cup made of fine China. Looking directly into my eyes, he softly kissed the front of my hand and then slowly brought it back down to my side.

“And that’s how you do it!” he beamed. There was that smile again. “Would you like to hear a poem?”

“Of course I would!”(As if I was going to say “no” to that!)

It was a love poem. Not an overused classic like Sonnet #18 or a soliloquy from Romeo and Juliet—it had a different tambour to it. It sounded like something a soldier would write to his wife waiting back home. Or lyrics to an old Sam Cook song. I glanced over at his wife. She’d heard it before.

So there I was, standing face-to-face with a member of the greatest generation our country has ever seen. Having a love poem recited to me, no less! Had Brad Pitt sat down at one of my tables I couldn’t have cared less.

 The poem ended, but I didn’t want to leave. I searched for a conversation-starter:

 “My grandpa was a Marine, too. He fought in WWII and Korea. Which wars did you fight in?”

 “Really, now? I was in WWII y’see. I was at Iwo Jima. You know what Iwo Jima is?”

 “Yes, sir.”

 “Got shot right through here,” he pointed to his left thigh, “and still got shrapnel floating around in here,” he patted his right shoulder. “Y’know what they say. Once a Marine, always a Marine! Them Navy guys are always out on the water, them Air Force guys are always out flying around, and then you got them Army guys on land doin’ who knows what. But we Marines are always first in battle, y’see. Just like our song says.”

 

From the Halls of Montezuma
To the Shores of Tripoli;
We fight our country's battles
In the air, on land and sea;
First to fight for right and freedom 
And to keep our honor clean; 
We are proud to claim the title 
of United States Marine.

 

This man was part of a diminishing generation of great patriots. It’s a shame I only knew him for five minutes. Unfortunately, patriotism like his is often frowned upon these days. It seems to be in vogue to criticize, belittle and even feel ashamed of our country. Just ask Sean Penn, Gwenyth Paltrow, or a host of other high-profile celebrities. For those of you who wonder why I’m stuck in the old-fogey traditional mindset of years past: this Marine is the reason.

 He didn’t step on the battleground of Iwo Jima so that moral relativism could pervade our society

He didn’t get shot in the thigh with the hopes that future progressive thinkers would have the “freedom” to hate America. I recently saw one of these progressive thinkers, the leader of an anti-war activist group call Code Pink, on a news show. This group desperately protests for the removal of U.S. troops from Iraq and Afghanistan. Instead, they call for “diplomacy” and “peacemaking.”

With the Taliban. Interesting. I hope that works out for them.

Such people are so jaded by their idealism that there becomes a gray line between good and evil. That way, everyone can do what they want and be happy, right? We all deserve the opportunity to exercise our freedoms! Our rights! It’s what the Founding Fathers wanted! (If a Utopian free-for-all is what you think the Founding Fathers wanted, then you’re in dire need of a history lesson.) If there truly is a gray line between good and evil, the Marine who serenaded me wouldn’t have war scars all over his body. If there truly is a gray line between good and evil, 3000 people would still being going home to their families tonight after their workday at the World Trade Center.

 My point is that you can’t be “first in battle” if there’s nothing to fight for. I know it. This Marine knew it. And the 144,000 troops deployed in Iraq know it too. If America is to remain a beacon of democracy, her citizens need to be proud of their heritage and fight for the good.

Semper fidelis.