Learning from our past

I think one of the things that makes America (or 'Murica) such an unusual (and great country) is our ability to learn from the past (and maybe learn from the mistakes of others). That learning and thinking takes an innate societal ability to think on yer feet. Today was a sign that nimbleness is still with us. 

We learned from our past and presented the Medal of Honor to 24 former soldiers during a ceremony at the White House today, the biggest gathering of Medal recipients since World War 2. I won't get into the weeds on this one, other than say we learned something about ourselves and our country during the process to right those wrongs. 

"... in the thick of the fight, for your comrades, for your country, you refused to yield. And on behalf of a grateful nation, we all want to thank you for inspiring us, then and now, with your strength, with your will, and you heroic hearts," President Obama said to the three living recipients today.

Of the 24 only three  - Melvin Morris, Santiago J. Erevia and Jose Rodela - are still with us, and they're the ones I want to talk about. They're the living embodiment of the Medal. They served in Vietnam in various units - one from the the 101st Airborne and two from the 5th Special Forces. They're my Dad's age. Older. Wiser. A bit softer around the edges. Humble. 

Today's ceremony was unusual in that the men who ultimately received the Medal weren't white. Think about that. In the one organization that does it's bloody best to blend us all together, their heroics weren't recognized then. Their heroic actions were the same as their white brothers. Yet something in our system, our beliefs, held them back. Not to say they weren't recognized. Almost all have the Distinguished Service Cross, which isn't too shabby last I checked. The Medal, the blue fabric with the 13 white stars, though is the ultimate sign of recognition for going above and beyond. 

I've never met a recipient of the Medal (we used to call it the Blue Max). The closest I got was photographing Sal Giunta at the Army-Navy football game shortly after his ceremony. What struck me about Sal was his humility. You could see it in his body language. Well, you could also see he was excited too, probably because he was able to represent his Battle Company brothers more than anything. 

Like Sal, the three men had the same body language - humility. Now, almost 50 years on, you could see it and surprise, pride and even a touch of guilt in their faces they were up there but there brothers weren't. Sal, and the other recipients from Iraq and Afghanistan, had the same look.

Here we are though going back righting a wrong. The president's quote can apply to the other 21 soldiers, who are no longer here. That "thank you" is a collective one, from our society.