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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