The Uniform

A retired colonel reflects.

It was appropriately overcast outside my hotel room window for this solemn occasion as I stood in front of the bureau mirror fussing and adjusting my uniform, my grey and tan camouflage fatigues.

My hair was cut short, military style. 'Manoso' proudly displayed over one breast pocket and 'US Army' over the other. Wearing my black beret with a blue army flash patch, adjusted and properly folded on my head, my boots brushed as clean as the day I first put them on, I stood back and contemplated my choice of uniform carefully. Still standing at attention in a plastic dry-cleaning bag, was my dark olive jacket and matching pants with the satin ribbon down the outside seam. The one that I'd worn with pride the day I finally made Stephanie Michelle Plum my wife. The uniform was at her insistence, I might add.

My dress uniform still bore my medals and patches: a gold bar, silver bar, double silver bars, seven sided gold leaf, seven sided silver leaf, American eagle with it talons holding arrows and stocks of wheat, three purple hearts, Special Forces, dagger with lightning bolts, black red and white banner with Rangers 75th regiment and my congressional medal of honor. There are more but now is not the time for self braggadocio.

Stephanie suggested the fatigues for this special day for several reasons. One was so that I wouldn't stand out in the crowd. I'd just be one of the guys. One of the throng of soldiers like myself who'd fought for their country in addition to those unseen who'd made the ultimate sacrifice. Another reason was to bring me back to my roots for reflection.

I hadn't been to Arlington National Cemetery to participate in the Memorial Day services in years. Again Stephanie suggested that I attend to refocus myself due to the events unfolding in our own home. My military tenure was over yet I was still feeling the loss although it had been my choice so that Steph and I could have the life we wanted, needed and deserved. I'd done my time, ten years of active service, twenty more inactive but I still felt like I was deserting those I'd promised to protect. She was right. It was time to let go and 'pass the torch', as they say.

"Ready?" She called to me from behind. She wore the most stunning navy blue silk suit. The skirt was just above her knees and the jacket was long, double breasted with a wide collar. Her lacey white shell underneath allowed her breasts to play peek-a-boo with me until she put them down for a nap when she covered her shoulders with a cashmere pashmina in a dark red, blue, black and white oriental print.

I tugged at my collar one last time.

"Ready. Do I look okay?" Steph approached and touched the words 'US Army' with the tip of her finger as a tear fell from her eyes. "I still have time to change. My dress uniform is …"

"No. This is who you are. You're a soldier who happens to be an officer. This is who I fell in love with." She placed a gentle kiss in my cheek. "Let's go. We don't want to be late."

I led my wife Stephanie, my seventeen-year old son Miguel and my nineteen year old son Carlos to the elevator to the waiting checkered cab at the curb in front of the Marriot just across the bridge from the cemetery. Miguel was still in high school but Carlos had just finished basic training having chosen the Navy preferring to be a Navy seal than a green beret like his dad. I was proud.

My boys were quiet and respectful of my needs without being told. They were the sons of a soldier and knew the drill. My wife held my hand, her heels digging small golf divots in the lawn as we walked toward a hole in the crowd as though made just for us. Thousands of soldiers stood at ease, some sat in wheel chairs or perched on crutches but all bore the same somber faces of men in pain for one reason or another.

President Obama arrived and placed a dark wreath on the tomb of the Unknown Soldier as he stood silently in reverence while his wife Michelle remained one-step behind. His hand drew back and reached for her as she took a step and stood beside him, president and first lady, husband and wife, partners in life, as my wife stood beside me, holding my arm, her soft graying curls resting on my shoulder.

Taps was played from an old brass bugle. A golden tassel swung back and forth giving absolution to those of us who felt it was needed. The young soldier stood ramrod straight as she belted a most heart wrenching rendition. The silence was shattered by a twenty-one gun salute honoring all who served posthumously.

Stephanie reached into her purse and removed my mirrored shades, setting them over my swimming eyes allowing them to empty down my cheek in private. She continued to hold me as my sons, my beautiful sons, each placed a hand on my shoulders until my shuddering had passed.

Stephanie slid something in my back pocket.

"Go. You need to do this." She whispered with a gentle shove. I nodded without looking back. My head held high.

My family released me as I marched alone up the newly paved walking path past the hundreds of thousands of white headstones forming a sea of white dots, all with small American flags perfectly placed beside them. Ten rows up until I came eye to eye with a stenciled Sergeant Kenneth Dunbar then thirty two white headstones east toward the Potomac River where I stopped and knelt resting on my haunches in the soft wet turf and spoke to my old buddy without words. The friend I'd lost some years back at the beginning of my military career, whose black cap I still wore from time to time although I'd given it to my wife. I felt I'd failed him when he died in my arms. His young widow had long since remarried and now had the family she deserved although a long stemmed red rose marked with one word 'Amy' lay on the ground.

I wondered about myself, my life, and my role in the military, as Miguel knelt on one knee on my left and Carlos on my right, my wife standing tall and proud at my back. I removed the cap from my back pocket with one hand as I slid the beret to my wife with the other then saluted my comrade. I traced the name 'Sean McMullen' with my finger before taking a deep cleansing breath. A strong breeze blew the cap from my head knocking it back onto the freshly mown grass at my side. The breeze seemed to speak my name before it died down. Carlos handed the cap back to me but not before he placed it on his own head.

"How do I look, Dad?" I tried to look at him but only saw Sean in his eyes. "Don't worry about me Dad. Sean's gonna be there for me all the way. He has my back." The wind blew again and I knew Sean would watch over my son for me.