I had left Fort Benning on the 4th of December, 1970, thinking I would never return. At least that was my plan. I had the same thoughts when I drove away from Fort Bragg on the 25th of June in 1973. I have since learned that God has a sense of humor.

I was invited to return to Fort Benning on Friday, March 14, 2003 to attend the Airborne Course graduation ceremony. Among those graduating was my son, Justin.

A light, warm, misting rain fell through the heavy South Georgia atmosphere as I drove onto the Fort benning reservation. The private security guard at the checkpoint examined my identification and asked my business. Then she directed me to the road that would take me to Eubanks Field where the ceremony would take place. Eubanks Field is one of the Airborne training areas and home of the red and white 250 ft. high towers from which paratrooper trainees are hoisted and then dropped for their first taste of floating down under a parachute. The towers are visible from many vantage points on post. Once I saw them, I knew there wasn't much chance of me getting lost.

Although the directions were non-specific, It didn't take me long to spot a parking area with many civilians milling around. That had to be the place. I parked and followed the crowd toward a set of aluminum bleachers. On one side of the bleachers an old C-47 cargo plane (the one that carried paratroopers into Normandy) sat in it's final resting place. On the other side was a C-119 flying boxcar, one of those that had the honor of taking me up for my first jump. The rain stopped with perfect timing, and the coulds began to move off, blobbing around the tops of the massive towers. I wandered over to the C-119 and walked around its worn, ragged looking hulk. I mused to myself that it looked just as bad back when it was flying and carying men its belly. I patted the side of the massive machine and turned to walk away. In front of me stood a lean, hard looking man, wearing a camouflage uniform and a red beret.

"Brings back memories, doesn't it?" he asked me with a smile of greeting. I could tell that he noticed the Silver Wings pinned on my sport coat. There was certainly nothing else about me that looked military.

"Yes, sir, it does." I answered, noticing the rank of Major on his collar and feeling the old flush of intimidation I once had when facing a superior officer. "When I went up in this raggedy beast, they didn't have any trouble convincing me to jump. I wanted out of the damn thing."

"When were you here?"

"1970" I answered.

"I came through in 1969, the good old days." He said with a laugh.

"You're still in?" I asked refering to the uniform.

"Oh, no, I'm retired. My son is graduating today."

"So is mine."

In the distance, we heard the sound of chanting troops and and boots on pavement. The Major and I parted and found seats in the bleachers. The long line of green clad troopers marched proudly past us in parade and then turned back to form up in front of the bleachers. I couldn't help but notice several young women in the group. I knew women had been allowed to become paratroopers for many years now, but it was still a slight shock to see them there and to think about what they had been through to get there.

The 507th Regiment commander stood at a small podium equipped with loudspeakers and began the ceremony with a greeting and short explanation of the Airborne course. A chaplain took over and offered a short prayer. All of this went right by me as I looked at my son, Justin standing in the formation and then at the towers looming in the background. We stood for the National Anthem and then sat down for a little more speech from another officer.

Then the commander asked. "Are there any Airborne veterans here today? Stand up and be recognized."

That got my attention. I stood. So did about 2 dozen others in the large crowd. Applause sounded all around me. My eyes felt like they were swelling up. I could feel tears beginning to form. Never before had I experienced any sort of positive recognition of my time in the army. I wasn't sure whether to enjoy the attention or wish it would go away.

After we were seated again, the commander asked. "Are there any Airborne veteran fathers here to see their sons or daughters graduate and become paratroopers?"

Again, I stood. More applause, even louder this time.

"Airborne veteran fathers, form up in a rank in front of the graduating class!" The commander ordered.

Like a zombie, I walked in a daze and stood in front of the troops with about eight or ten other men. This group included the retired Major, of course, and several other middle-aged men, along with one long-haired, aging hippie type... me.

"Graduating paratroopers, if you see your father, move front and center, and stand facing him." Came the order from the P.A. system.

Justin was in front of me in a heart beat, zipping to a halt like the Road Runner in front of the Coyote. I could see the muscles of his face, trying in vain to surpress a most unmilitary grin.

"Graduating paratroopers, present your wings to your fathers." As one they held out the Silver wings to us.

"Do you have them?" Justin whispered to me.

"Right here." I answered pointing to my chest.

"Airborne veteran fathers, pin the silver wings on your son's chest!" The commander instructed. "Beware that the giving of 'Blood Wings' is prohibited by army regulations. We can not allow risk of injury or infection to our troops."

I felt a little disappointment at hearing this last order. But as a recipiant of the old barbaric practice of pressing the sharp posts of the Parachutist's Badge into the flesh of graduating paratroopers, I recognized the rule as correct and proper.

I pocketed the flat, chrome plated trinket he had handed me and removed the my own Sterling Silver Wings from my coat. As I pinned the Wings to his Battle Dress Uniform, his grin finally broke through the discipline.

"If anyone asks why your wings are a little bit darker and duller than all the others, you just tell them they are used." I spoke just loud enough for those near us to hear.

"Sons of Airborne veterans, return to ranks."

"Airborne veteran fathers, thank you. You may return to your seats."

I walked back to the bleachers, again in a daze, having just experienced one of the proudest moments of my life.

The only thing that will ever make me more proud or happy will be the day our sons and daughters return from this war alive and well, and the day mankind has learned to make war no more.

Hendrix For Senate Campaign
P.O. Box 3054
Cary, NC 27519-3054