On our way home from LA, while we waited at LAX for our flight, a voice announced the arrival of troops from Iraq. They didn’t look dusty or battle-worn as they came through the terminal, trailing in small bunches. Their uniforms were crisp and clean. Mostly, though, they just looked awfully young and tender, and a little weary.
As they walked, schlepping gear and themselves, people moved to the aisle, stood and watched, applauded and dabbed at their eyes. The applause was a wave–no lots of waves. Each bundle of soldiers elicited a new round of applause that followed them through the terminal.
I was thinking my What for? thoughts at the same time that I was deeply moved by these boys, who put their lives on the line.
