Monday, June 20, 2016

Gratitude Monday: Corridors of power

By a stroke of great good fortune, last week I was able to walk a couple of miles through the corridors of the Pentagon, guided by someone who’s worked there for 20 years. For a military historian and an American, it was a very interesting experience. Prior to this, I’ve only seen it as I drove past.

It was one of those summer afternoons when both temperature and humidity are in the 80s; quintessential DC, so I arrived at the visitors entrance somewhat non compos. I don’t know why it didn’t occur to me that security would include stepping through a metal detector and having your bags scanned. Because it did, in spades.

(I was okay with showing the photo ID, but not wild about having to key in my SSN. Two separate times. I don’t know what foreign nationals have to do.)

Seriously, you peel down to the layer of clothes that keep you decent in public; everything else goes through this very sensitive scanner. I warned them that my bag contains a Swiss Army Knife, but since the blade is under the 2½” maximum, it was okay. Watch went in the bin, and my pedometer after one of the guards spotted it before I stepped through the metal detector; I forget I’m wearing it.

What was interesting was that the security person hand-searched the bag because there were two metal items she couldn’t identify, a silver pin and a metal-backed mirror.


As you can see, the items in question are small. But the security staff are thorough.

There are no pix of my visit because no photographs are allowed. Which is fine, although I really, really wanted to shoot one of the spokes that cut through the five rings because of the repeating pattern, almost cloister-like. But rules is rules, and it was just amazing being there at all.

Here are a couple of highlights of my visit: there’s a memorial chapel at the exact spot where Flight 11 struck the side of the building on September 11th 2001. There is blast-proof glass that allows you to look out onto the memorial garden, a list of names of the victims and a memorial book.


The courtyard at the center of the Pentagon is about the size of a small city park, with lawn, picnic tables and trees, including very mature hollies and magnolias. In the relatively small enclosed space, with the heat and humidity and the magnolias beginning their seasonal bloom, the scent of the flowers just about filled the air. It was the strongest I’ve ever experienced, in all my years on the fringes of the South.

My friend took me up and down stairs, past the shrine of the Air Force Purple Water Fountain, a whole lot of agencies and directorates, displays dedicated to conflicts and commanders in our nation’s history, a wall of quilts, and a whole lot of other things. I put a good couple of miles on my pedometer that afternoon, and we didn’t cover but a part of the place.

Here’s something else I noticed: in addition to the scores of uniformed personnel and be-suited civilians, there were also many, many people carrying out the tasks that support whatever activities take place in that largest office building in the world. Maintenance staff, cleaners, folks transporting supplies and equipment, baristas, security personnel at the visitors’ entrance. I thought about the kind of clearance process they’d have to go through to get those jobs, and I wondered if the people who plan and direct combat operations around the world notice them, or think about how they smooth the way for their world-changing work.

Today I’m grateful I had the opportunity to see this amazing place at work. And I’m grateful to the people who suit up every day (whether it’s dungarees or dress blues) to go to work there.

And whenever I encounter the scent of magnolias, I’m going to think of this nexus of military might. That’s America for you.



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