Whilst awaiting our departure from San Diego, I became aware of the presence of a mature sailor in spotless white dress regalia circling the waiting area. He vanished; then returned, only to repeat this sequence several times. The sides of his head glistened while his erect crew cut appeared capable of deflecting virtual asteroids. The row upon row of ribbons on his chest defined a career serviceman of vast experience. He was an impressive chap. He disappeared one last time. I thought nothing more about him.
Thirty minutes prior to our East Coast arrival, the captain of the aircraft made the following announcement, "We have a military escort on board this afternoon. He is accompanying the remains of a fallen service member."This disclosure explained the presence of the sailor I saw earlier. The captain's comment invited a moment of silent respect punctuated with near unanimous subdued applause. His choice of words lingered with me: "the remains." It sounded as if the fallen service member was less than whole. This continued to disturb me. I have known armed conflict. I have seen dead soldiers both friendly and foe, but never thought of them as "remains." It sounded impersonal and dehumanizing. Something akin to military jargon like "collateral damage" (dead people, destroyed buildings) or "unavoidable civilian casualties" (the killing of innocent men, women, children). What would be missing from those families would not be the "remains" of someone, it would be that person in his/her entirety.
Our aircraft taxied to the assigned gate. The captain requested that we remain seated until the escort deplaned to resume his duties. Quiet applause accompanied the escort's departure. Passengers deplaned. My wife and I collected what remained from the overhead compartment and exited the plane.
Thirty minutes prior to our East Coast arrival, the captain of the aircraft made the following announcement, "We have a military escort on board this afternoon. He is accompanying the remains of a fallen service member."This disclosure explained the presence of the sailor I saw earlier. The captain's comment invited a moment of silent respect punctuated with near unanimous subdued applause. His choice of words lingered with me: "the remains." It sounded as if the fallen service member was less than whole. This continued to disturb me. I have known armed conflict. I have seen dead soldiers both friendly and foe, but never thought of them as "remains." It sounded impersonal and dehumanizing. Something akin to military jargon like "collateral damage" (dead people, destroyed buildings) or "unavoidable civilian casualties" (the killing of innocent men, women, children). What would be missing from those families would not be the "remains" of someone, it would be that person in his/her entirety.
Our aircraft taxied to the assigned gate. The captain requested that we remain seated until the escort deplaned to resume his duties. Quiet applause accompanied the escort's departure. Passengers deplaned. My wife and I collected what remained from the overhead compartment and exited the plane.
