‘In the military’ means belonging to special fraternity

The other week, I had the pleasure of attending Cannon’s Senior Noncommissioned Officer Induction Ceremony.

Like many of the other official functions I’ve attended, this event included a short ceremony that paid special tribute to our prisoners of war (POW) and missing in action (MIA) service members.

As I stand for those ceremonies and participate in the silent toast, I often wonder what all the other folks in the audience are thinking about. It’s been a long time since America has had a war or conflict with a significant number of POWs or MIAs and I wonder if this ceremony really has meaning for folks anymore. Well, it does for me.

Every time I witness a POW/MIA ceremony, I think about Navy Lt. David Hodges and it brings me back to the realization that I am part of a very special fraternity. Let me tell you why.

My parents divorced when I was very young. My father remarried in 1972 to Elizabeth Hodges, a widow with two young daughters. Mom’s first husband was Lt. David Hodges. He was flying combat missions over Vietnam off of the USS Oriskany and was shot down on Oct. 7, 1967. After being hit by a surface-to-air missile, his wingman reported receiving a radio transmission and then watched Lt. Hodges’ A-4E Skyhawk roll to the right, enter a steep dive, and crash into the countryside. There was no parachute and no emergency beacon. Because the enemy controlled the immediate area, no search and rescue mission was launched.

For many years, Lt. Hodges was listed as MIA. Finally, in 1999, after three different DoD teams excavated the suspected crash site, the military returned Lt. Hodges to American soil.

There wasn’t much, just some personal artifacts and a few bones which DNA testing was able to confirm were Lt. Hodges’. But, it was enough to bring a degree of closure to my mom and my two sisters. On July 30, 1999, nearly 32 years after he was shot down, Lt. Hodges was buried at Arlington National Cemetery.

I attended the funeral and what I saw there reinforced the fact that we belong to a very special fraternity. What other organization would dedicate so much time, resources and energy to bringing lost members home after more than 30 years?

While it may not necessarily be important to you, it’s very important to your family. Trust me, I’ve seen it.

The funeral itself was the kind you would expect to see for generals, full honor guard, caisson and a missing man flyover. The dignity and respect the Honor Guard showed for my mom and sisters was sincere and heartfelt.

Our Honor Guard members have a tough job and what they do is extremely significant for the families. Trust me, I’ve seen it.

Finally, after the funeral, his shipmates hosted a luncheon for the family at the Fort Myer Officers Club. About 25 to 30 of his shipmates were there, and each one of them got up to tell a personal story about Lt. Hodges.

That was especially important for my sisters to hear, since they were 6 and 4 when their dad died.

The stories they told were of men who grew to love each other and trust each other. One man told of how he got out of the Navy after his 4 year stint was over and went to work in private industry.

To this day, he can tell you all about his Navy shipmates, but can’t tell you one thing about the guy who works in the next cubicle. The military bond is stronger than any other. We depend on each other, we protect each other, we respect each other. Those bonds last a lifetime. Trust me, I’ve seen it.

So the next time you see a POW/MIA ceremony, think for a moment about Lt. Hodges and remember that you aren’t just “in the military,” you belong to a very special fraternity. Live it, love it and, above all, respect it.