I wrote this in 2002, still applies today:
In April 1975, I lived on Clark Air Force Base, at Angeles City, Philippines. I was 19 years old. One night I received a call from the Catholic Chaplin asking that I come to the church. When I arrived there were at least 30 or 40 other people gathered in the chapel. We were told that in 20 minutes a plane from Vietnam was going to land at Clark. It's purpose was to airlift babies and children out of Vietnam. It was necessary to establish a temporary housing facility for these children on their way to the United States. Volunteers were needed to take care of these children during their stay at Clark.
We boarded buses which drove us out on the tarmac of the airfield. A large C5 was sitting on the tarmac with it's doors open. We filed off the bus and climbed up the stairs to the plane. I can't even describe the emotions going through me as I stepped into the plane, and saw what seemed like hundreds (though I know it was less) of children sitting on the floor of the plane. No seats, or anything else that I can remember just children. As we filed through the plane, we were each handed two children, and we disembarked to get back on the buses. We rode back to the base gymnasium where it had been converted. Through out the gym there were mattresses laid out, and we each were assigned a mattress. As I walked to the area assigned to me, a young airmen with two infants in his arm came up to me. He was obviously at a loss with what to do with an infant. I had two toddlers. Without even exchanging words we switched children. We stayed with the children, bathing them, washing them with Quell shampoo to de-lice them, feeding them, playing with them and sleeping with them. I don't remember, but I think we worked in 12 to 14 hour shifts. I remember going home a couple of times during the next week, to take a shower (in Quell so that I wouldn't get lice myself) and then going back to start over again. Somewhere, I have one picture of me with a little boy I took care of. If I find it I will post it.
One of the last groups of children I took care of were actually I think from Cambodia. This last group were obviously children who had been abandoned. From their clothing and attitudes it seemed obvious to me that they had been living on the streets alone. With the older children we would take them in buses to the mess hall to feed them. We would file in with our charges and sit at the tables, and other volunteers would bring trays of food to the tables. This last group I had literally pounced on the food, eating as fast as they could, stuffing the food into every pocket, in their shirts and pants, and then when they couldn't eat anymore, stuffing their little cheeks to hold for later. I remember trying to put the food back on the trays, telling them over and over that there would be more. It was obvious from the looks on their faces, and the food in their clothes and cheeks that in their lives, this had not been the case. It was months, maybe even years before I could sleep without that image in my mind.
I have lived in several interesting places in my life, and the one thing I have learned is that freedom is not a worldwide notion. Too many of us take our freedom for granted. In my mind, unlike what the constitution says freedom is not a "right", it is a privilege. It is something we must earn. We earn it every day with the lives of our soldiers who are out fighting for this privilege. You may not agree with what ever political action is going on in the world, but we still must thank every soldier who has ever gone to fight for this country and our privileges. Every soldier from those who fought in the War of Independence, the Civil War, the Spanish American War, World War I and II, the Korean War, Vietnam, the Gulf War and now the wars in Afghanistan and Iraq. Those who go out and are stationed at every base throughout the world, and every embassy throughout the world. As I celebrate the 4th of July this weekend, I will be silently thanking all of them for giving us and maintaining our freedom.
Labels: 4th of July