Dan and Hannah Greet the Soldiers at Christmas who are off to Afghanistan

          I am not a great sleeper.  Rarely do I make it through the night without waking once and reading.  Tonight my body just knows that this will not be a Hall of Fame sleeping night.  Our alarm is set for 3 AM so we can go to Pease Airport in Portsmouth, NH to be Pease Greeters (http://www.peasegreeters.org/) and welcome soldiers stopping off for one hour as their plane refuels on their way to Afghanistan.  In anticipation of this early morning, Hannah and I go to bed at 8 PM.  Not wanting to miss the alarm, I awake three times, the last time being at 217A and stay awake until my runner’s watch alarm beeps us into action.

          Soon taking Hannah’s Honda Civic, we drive south on I-95 for the fifteen-minute ride to Pease.  In the dark of subfreezing December I wonder if this is all worth it, having had such a lousy sleep.  Many of these flights come in during the day.  Well, boo hoo.  Danny isn’t getting his sleep.  Too bad.  He does have all day to nap if he wants.  What’s his problem? any reasonable person might wonder.  Pulling into the parking lot, we see easily forty cars.  These Pease Greeters are troopers.  Bustling into the terminal, we see bright lights and not a person we know.   Danny’s pity parade continues.  With 60-70 people milling around, mostly veterans, I feel alone as probably the only one who fought serving in Viet Nam during my college days.  Interesting word choice – fought serving. 

First a cup of coffee and then we line up on the Heroes Walk hallway, awaiting the soldiers.  As a couple who hangs a United Nations flag in our driveway when it seems every other house in the neighborhood has an American flag, we stand quietly waiting.  And then we see Ralph standing alone.  We don’t know his name of course at this point, but we learn that he’s retired military.  Introducing ourselves, we see him immediately smile and now know that there are two less lonely people in the world.  Don’t you love it when an Air Supply song captures the moment!  From nearby Rochester, NH, he is veteran of WW II and spent time in the Pacific.  Quick to tell us how it’s been hard since his second wife died, he reminds me of the good marriage I have.  Hell, great marriage.  Doing the math, we know he’s at least 84 year old and he proudly tells us about his delightful family and then even listens, really listens about ours.  Without being aware of it, I feel at home and am glad I made the effort this early morning.

          All of a sudden the soldiers from a Colorado base walk single file down the hallway past our position as we clap and clap some more.  Three forty AM.  They must be wondering what we are doing here in the middle of the night.  Well, we are witnesses.  I don’t get many chances to thank the people who make sacrifices for my family, my country, and me.  We can live insulated, often carefree lives if we have jobs, like Hannah and I do.  In going about the daily routines of my life, I can forget how good I have it.  These soldiers are going in harm’s way when they really might wish they were doing something else.  Perhaps, reading the Sunday paper home in Mississippi? 

In fact, the first young soldier we approach in the reception area is from Mississippi.  If you decide to come to Pease and don’t know what to say, ask where they are from.  We learn of his interest in going to college.  I think of Hattiesburg, MS where Bret Favre went to college and sports carries our conversation.  When asked, the next soldier with a tan bar on her shirt pocket tells us that she’s a lieutenant, which I know means she went to college.  Louisville University it turns out.  She’s married to an enlisted man and has an eight year old, who rolls with Mom being deployed for the coming year.  While there are no tears or doubt in Mom’s eyes, I know I’d crumble if it were I.  Heading to the ceremony, we engage with one final soldier holding a green plastic football given to him by the Pease Greeters.  A fan? I ask.  Patriots he says.  You from around here?  Texas.  You are from Texas and love the Patriots?  Tom Brady is the best.  Life is good. We meet a Patriot fan at 4 AM. 

          After the group picture, prayer, and free phone cards for all the troops, Hannah and I head for home in the still early morning dark.  I’ll head back to our warm king-size bed, later have coffee with homemade bread while reading the Sunday Boston Globe sports section, and then catch Sports Center.  I bet they’d trade their Sunday for mine.

          People overstate the value of what Hannah and I do by going to Pease, even at three in the morning.  What an honorable thing to do!  we hear.  We’re fine, but we’re no heroes.  We know how lucky we are this December day to honor these heroes, no matter the time of day.