Why I Volunteer with the USO

My wife and I are honored to volunteer with the USO in the lounge at Dulles airport. I have my wife to thank for this. Although I do volunteer with the local fire and rescue company, death and destruction is not her thing and she preferred to find something we could do together. She came upon the USO at Dulles and we agreed to sign up.

Good stuff.

What a wonderfully rewarding decision. It gives us a chance to present a mere token of our appreciation to our troops by serving them refreshments at the lounge as they go about their worldly travels. As it turns out, the other reason I volunteer at the USO has to do with the people I meet, usually in the lounge.

There are the veterans of WWII, ably representing that greatest of generations. Now that that they finally have their own memorial proudly constructed on the Mall, many want to see it. With these veterans passing away at a rate of 800+ a day, time is of the essence. What are known as Honor Flights bring these veterans into local airports. The USO meets them with bottled water, snacks, wheelchairs and portable O2 bottles. The veterans are hosted and bused down to their nation's capital to visit their memorial, and to visit with others who fought in that cataclysmic event. They are proud of their accomplishments, and so are we.

Then there is the veteran of the "forgotten" war (forgotten by some, but not by all) who could teach us all the meaning of "cold", having fought on the frozen Korean peninsula during one of their coldest winters. Ever. Cold enough to freeze their guns, and food and thoughts. I have to admit that we met this particular veteran in Hawaii where he lives. After the Frozen Chosin he swore to never be cold again a day in his life and has a home in paradise. Good decision.

There was the Vietnam veteran that stopped in one day and dropped twenty bucks into to the kitty. Just because. Said that the USO helped him out several times and he just wanted to say thanks. That’s always a tough one, isn’t it? When a veteran says thanks to us?!? For what? Anyway, the veteran then went on to say that after a year of combat he returned home unannounced to surprise his parents. His father was working in the front yard when the young vet walked up and said hello. The father did not recognize the scarecrow caricature of his son standing before him. All three of us teared up when the veteran told us his story and we had to remind ourselves that “there’s no crying at the USO!!”

Our own son served during the first Gulf War, stationed in Saudi Arabia repairing the tankers who refueled the fighters who fought the war. He was on the receiving end of the SCUD missiles sent over from Iraq. It must have been fated that one of the last projects upon he worked before retirement was the Air Borne Laser which will defend our troops from such tactical theater missiles in the future, using Buck Rogers laser technology. Our son was the only member of that research team who had faced the pointy end of the missile threat. Thankfully, he came back from the war not only well and healthy, but also with his future war bride, our beautiful daughter in-law who was also in the United States Air Force, outranking our son. Still does. One fond memory they share is witnessing the last USO tour featuring Bob Hope. Can you imagine?

Meeting the veteran from the second Gulf War was quite the experience. A young guy came into the lounge one night. Turns out he’s home for his sister’s wedding. That’s a little odd isn’t it? He leaves war, comes home to celebrate his sister’s wedding, and then returns to war. Can’t quite get my mind around that one. Anyway, the young guy comes into our empty lounge late at night and wants to talk. Vent actually, to strangers he will probably never see again. Fine with us, whatever we can do to help a troop. Seems that he could not get a ride home from the airport so his father was coming to pick him up, about a two hour drive if I recall. The father was irritated with having to drive so far to pick up his warrior son, and the son knew that the father would complain about it upon entering the lounge. During the quiet time prior to his father’s arrival, the young soldier talked to us about the realities of war. No glory there, just very harsh times including the death of his best friend and our young soldier killing the guy who killed his best friend. I wish he hadn’t learned such lessons. I pray that he is well and that in some small way we helped a soldier in need. Eventually the father arrived. The soldier was right, and I bit my tongue.

The veteran of the war in Afghanistan was a delightful teenager. This young lady was personable, friendly and a delight with whom to carry on a conversation. Seems that her goal was to become a military nurse, having already had battle field hospital experience removing the eye of a wounded soldier under the careful instructions of a medical doctor. Holy cow. What a teenager.

The veterans of the War on Terror graced our lounge as well. Any idea where we are fighting this war? Well, there was the ripped young Army Special Forces sergeant waiting in the lounge with his lovely wife. He was plying his trade in the sands of ….. North Africa teaching the indigenous population how to protect themselves from Al-Qaeda. Then there was one interesting afternoon when a hard, lean soldier comes in directly from the Philippines after fighting Al-Qaeda in the jungles for nine months! And I mean he just landed from the Philippines. I suspect he still had mud under his fingernails. He was tense and paced like a caged tiger. After traveling half way around the world he was less than two hours away from the love of his life, that which kept him going for nine months of jungle warfare, that which he could not wait to get his arm around, his pickup truck. Seems that his girlfriend was supposed to pick him up at the airport in his pick-em-up, but she was a no show. He had earlier suspected that there was trouble in paradise, but was hopeful that she would at least pick him up at the airport. The longer he waited the more agitated he became and the closer I came to offering him a ride home. Since I was (and you were) waking up every morning a free person on this soldier's nine month watch, I felt that he deserved such a minor show of gratitude. However, there was a Marine officer watching this story unfold so he quietly called a Marine base near our soldier’s home town and informed the base that there was a young Marine needing a ride from the airport to the base. The Marine officer hangs up the phone and tells the soldier that he is now a young Marine and that a car is on the way to take him home. Whew! You gotta love cross military cooperation. We figured that the driver of the car wouldn’t throw the soldier out once the truth emerged. I told the soldier to just keep saying “Semper Fi” and everything would be fine. The car arrived after the end of our shift, but we suspect the soldier was reunited with his pickup truck.

Then there was the Mom who stopped in just to drop two twenty dollar bills in the kitty. Seems that two of her sons are Marines, one in Iraq and one in Afghanistan. Yikes. Let's review that one again: two of this mother's sons are Marines, one in Iraq and one in Afghanistan. Whenever she can she visits a USO lounge and donates the two twenties, one for each son, all for good karma. We pray that her karma holds strong.

And what of the newest troops? Will they uphold the traditions of the finest military in the world?

There we were, staffing the lounge when a fine looking young Marine comes through the doors. We sensed that he entered with purpose, but provide him the usual “Welcome to the USO!”. His reply was “Those people are crazy out there!”. Uh oh. Young Marine, in BDUs, couldn’t be any more military and he’s met some crazies. Huh. So I ask “What’s up?”, fearing some slight has been done to our young Marine. He tells us that as he is walking though the airport waiting for his girlfriend to arrive and people keep coming up to him, shaking his hand and thanking him for what he’s doing. Well, okay, so far I’m siding with the crazies. The problem with the young Marine is that he has just finished basic training and has not yet been in combat. In his mind, he hasn’t done anything yet and so does not deserve the recognition.

So, let me see, he’s committed years of his life to an all volunteer military, successfully completed basic training with the United States Marines and is on his way to specialty training as a truck mechanic. From what I hear, every Marine is a Marine first, and performs some other job after that. A Marine cook is a Marine first, and then a cook. A Marine truck mechanic is a Marine first, and then a truck mechanic. I also hear that there is no more dangerous weapon in our arsenal of freedom than a Marine with a rifle. And our Marine is embarrassed when people come up to him to shake his hand.

Cripes.

We explain to this newest member of the current greatest generation that people appreciate all that he has done, and will do. He understands, but still shyly awaits his girlfriend's arrival. Secure and yet appreciated in the USO lounge.

God Bless America.

God Bless the USO.

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