Pride, patriotism on parade

  • Published
  • By Mr. Gerald Sonnenberg
  • Air Force Communications Agency Public Affairs
SCOTT AIR FORCE BASE, Ill. (AFPN) --  On May 30, I participated in my first Memorial Day parade as an Air Force Reserve noncommissioned officer. For people like me, who find it difficult to walk away from active duty and the uniform, the Reserve is a good fit, and participating in parades is an added benefit.

Over the last decade, it has become a tradition for 932nd Airlift Wing members here to march in holiday parades during the scorching summer and chilly fall months to unfurl an oversized American flag over asphalt streets in St. Louis and Belleville, Ill.

Typically, the public affairs person takes photos. But occasionally, there is a shortage of people to carry the banners. On this day, we needed 10 people for our 15-foot by 30-foot flag, and we only had nine. Therefore, I took my place on the front left corner of the formation.

I was happy my 11-year-old son Ben was with me. He was going to assist me with photography support, and it was time that we could spend together during the long holiday weekend. However, he was surprised and proud to be suddenly promoted to official Air Force photographer for the day. After a few instructions from me, our formation moved forward. Ben marched alongside me, periodically moving in front of us by 20 or 30 yards to snap a picture or two. It was humid, and it didn’t take long for the sweat to start trickling down my face.

As reservists, we shed our civilian personas for the most part when we put on the uniform. All of the years of military experience come flooding back, and it only takes a moment or two to regain that military bearing drilled into all of us.

As we moved up the street, people sitting along the sidewalks to watch the parade began standing. Veterans wearing their VFW caps, as well as their old uniform issue garrison caps stood at attention and rendered salutes as we began to pass by, while civilians placed their hands over their hearts. Many people applauded. A few praised us with words as we went by. My son marched in step with us and watched in amazement as this went on.

My wife, who is an Air Force retiree, and I have taught all three of our sons to show respect for the flag and what it stands for. They take their hats off during the playing of the national anthem at ball games with their hands over their hearts. This was the first time Ben had seen real patriotism in action from this point of view.

It was enough to make me feel a sense of pride and warmth in my heart. However, what affected me most was one phrase that wasn’t shouted, but uttered with a calming strength that made shivers run down my spine.

Though meant for all of us, the words “Thank you” pierced all of the other sounds of applause, shouting, and marching bands and came to me like an idea suddenly awakened in the back of my head that was itching to see the light of day. The words echoed inside, and the real meaning of what we were doing there at that day and time, sweating in the morning sunlight, revealed itself in a way that some of us had forgotten.

Those people, young and old, veterans and non-veterans, depend on us -- reservists, guardsmen, and active duty -- for protection of themselves and their rights as Americans. The aged veterans saluting along the roadside see us as carrying on the torch of freedom when they are no longer able and when others have fallen in its defense.

We reached the end of the parade at Belleville's Walnut Hill Cemetery in front of the graves of servicemen and monuments dating back to the American Civil War. We folded the flag, saluted, and went our separate ways back to our cars.

I carried the large, folded flag under my left arm as Ben and I walked past the crowds of people heading home. We smiled as we kept hearing “thank you” as we walked. And before I could say anything, Ben, with a twinkle in his eye and a chest swollen with pride, replied to them, “You’re welcome.”