Another day at the airfield is about to begin. Another deployment is soon to happen. A plane sits waiting to carry them off to war. "How many on this flight?", I ask my aunt. "281 was the info we got." She says as she goes by. After setting up tables of snacks, wipes, books, care bags and a ton of other assorted things..we wait. We don't have to wait long..8 white buses come to a stop outside. " It's showtime ladies and gentleman..put on your happy faces." I say to my fellow USO volunteers. Soon they begin to file in past us. Loaded down with gear they make their way over to their assigned spot. Each one eyeing the goodies laid out for them on our tables. Pretty soon they are lined up in front of us stuffing things into their bags and pockets. They know it's going to be a long flight so they take what they can carry. I make small talk reading the name of each one to myself. I always try to remember each name..knowing I can't..but I try. Hoping I'll never read about them as a KIA in a press release. Once bags, pockets and bellies are full it's time to go. They line up and head in for a final briefing. We line up in two rows outside the doors they will exit from. American flags on each side. Then they file out in counts of 10-25 depending on the flight size. As each group comes out they are greeted with cheers and well wishes. They smile, tuck flags in their pockets or even in their helmets. I've seen thsi more times than I can count now. I used to know exactly how many flights I've sent off. Then I overheard someone bragging about the number of flights they'd sent off..and I decided to no longer keep track. When it becomes nothing more than a number..you've forgotten why you're there. And I NEVER want to forget that. Because no two are the same. As long as I've been doing it..I have yet to get used to seeing soldiers walking to the waiting plane. No matter how many pictures I take..I don't get used to it. Once the plane is loaded we wait in silence. The hardest part is when they close the door. Once that's shut and locked it becomes real..they are really going. The plane revs up it's engines and it begins to pull away. I raise my arm in the air and wave goodbye. And what breaks my heart is when I see them waving back. I continue waving until they have lifted off and are no longer in sight. No matter what the weather is..I NEVER leave that tarmac until the plane is gone. The thought of even ONE soldier looking out that tiny window and seeing nobody standing there is so much more than I can take.
