On Memorial Day in previous years, I’ve written about how
the Washington Post keeps the
faces of the fallen before our eyes on a regular basis, and about Operation Homecoming, a stunning
collection of writing about Iraq and Afghanistan by service members and their families.
As our longest wars continue, this year two stories on
NPR caught my attention, so I’m sharing them with you.
The first introduces us to the men and women at Dover Air
Force Base who are responsible for the “dignified
transfer” of the bodies of the fallen. There are no details on the actual
process (you can refer to Operation Homecoming
if you’d like to learn more); this is a glimpse into the people who perform
this final service for those who served us.
The thing that struck me was that they all—military and
civilian—feel they are performing more than a duty; they are answering a
calling. And that amidst the grief that laps around them, they find joy in this
purpose.
We are fortunate to have this look at Dover—then-Secretary
of Defense Dick Cheney ordered the base closed to news media in 1991 when the
coffins began coming in from Desert Storm, and the ban wasn’t lifted until
2009.
Another side of this—perhaps the first step in the final
journey of a serviceman or servicewoman—is the notification of the next of kin of
their loved one’s death by the Casualty Assistance Calls Officer (CACO). On
Friday, NPR’s StoryCorps brought us Leslie Hurt, 39, a hospital corpsman in the
US Navy, and a CACO.
She spoke of a different kind of casualty, the
appalling number of military suicides. Their families, after all, have to
be notified, too. Listen to her talk about that.
Like the people at Dover, Hurt says, “It’s not just a
duty. You’re there to take care of the family in their time of need and
tragedy.”
I’m grateful that someone is doing this with gentleness
and grace, and I’m grateful that we are now allowed to understand this process.
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