One year ago today, our daughter Emma left the safety of home to begin her process of becoming a member of the Air National Guard. She was truly headed into something life altering, her first big decision beyond high school. Her mother and I were left to only pray, hope, and wait while she underwent her initial training for the Air Force. Eight weeks later, a batch of family arrived at Lackland Air Force base in San Antonio to celebrate her graduation from Basic Military Training.
I will never forget the anticipation from not having seen her since she left. The first glimpse we would get of her would be during the great tradition of the “Airman’s Run”. This one-and-a-half-mile run, one of the first since COVID, finished on the training grounds surrounded by grandstands. The stands were packed with anxious families also waiting to see their child or loved one for the first time since they’d left.
Waiting in the stands, we were told to look to the end of the concourse where in the distance we would see the trainees jogging in our direction. The PA announcer invited the families to head down into the infield of the jogging track. Cheri, our daughter Evelyn and I darted for the infield. We got to the infield and claimed a spot in the front so we could see Emma and shout her name as she passed. We had a huge red, white and blue banner printed with her name and squadron on it. Then more waiting. I took deep purging breaths to assuage the nervousness as we searched the far end of the grounds. Then after what seemed like an hour, we heard faintly in the distance…
“One! What’s it feel like, Two! To be bitten by, Three! A Bulldog! Whoooaahh!”.
At first the trainees were a mass of bobbing heads as they jogged almost 300 yards away from us. They moved in sharp unison with their training sergeants next to the columns. A pair of trainees in the front held a banner stating their “Training Squadron (TRS) Number” and designation. They were “The Bulldogs”. The trainees would get to the end of the concourse and begin to circle the training grounds in front of the stands. They’d do three laps on the track and then head back off the concourse to their barracks. It was our job to search the sea of heads and find the one belonging to our daughter.
The group was bearing down on the training grounds. When the trainees entered, all jogging in formation, all wearing the same PT uniforms, all shouting the same cadence, I had to catch my breath. I realized in that moment our daughter was part of something far, far bigger than herself or any of us. I hadn’t even seen her yet and it came to my mind that she was about to graduate from “The United States Air Force Basic Military Training”. It hit in that moment that she was now a member of the best military force in the world.
As I thought about my daughter, the commitment she’d made, and how proud I was of her in that moment, something unexpected began to happen in my heart. It swelled to the point of not only being proud of her and being proud to be her dad, but proud of every single trainee I was seeing. I was even more proud of my grandfather who was in the Navy during World War II. In those moments I became more patriotic, and somehow, I was more proud to be an American that day.
Then my wife grabbed my arm and said, “Jay! Jay! there she is!”
My eyes darted back and forth from face to face. Then I saw a sandy blonde ponytail flipping back and forth among the mass of trainees. She looked focused, eyes forward, shouting firmly and loudly the cadence of the group. I scanned her head to toe. She was trim, strong and squared away. Tears welled in my eyes. My breath quickened and all I could do was cry. Then I heard my wife in the highest, loudest voice I’ve ever heard from her, “Emmmmmaaa!” I startled and broke off my tears then began shouting along with my wife. As we called to her, her training seemed solid, and she looked as if she wouldn’t break comportment. My daughter argues that what I say happened next, indeed never happened. But I swear I saw, for what looked like nanosecond, Emma’s eyes dart left and the corner of her lips curl into a grin at the sound of her mother’s voice. Or maybe that’s just what I wanted to see.
I’ve thought deeply about that day and my freshly bolstered patriotism. I’ve been around hundreds of veterans in this country who still proudly wear the designations or stations of their military units from the past. I’ve seen veterans who wore hats or jackets that say “101st Airborne” or “USS Arizona” among many others who are members of the American Legion or who host tours at America’s Armed Services monuments. The two-day graduation at Lackland that began with the Airman’s Run stirred something in me that I think I’ve come to understand. The closer you are in proximity to what makes the United States of America the extraordinary country it is, the prouder you are that you’re a part of it. That day Emma’s commitment to military service drew me nearer to those who serve, those who’ve died and those who’ve held up the original values that make our country what it is. And for that I am blessed.
