While I was in the airport in Bangor, I was surrounded by soldiers waiting for their plane to Iraq. Probably a couple hundred in all. Many talking quietly on borrowed cell phones that the airport military office provided, some surrounding the TV blaring Fox News and its updates on Afghanistan, a few milling around the tiny gift shop. I bought a moose picture frame on the clearance rack, and listened to a few guys in camo behind me asking for scratch-off lottery tickets. One joked about "winning $100,000 right before getting on the plane to Iraq. Wouldn't that suck?"
I passed through security to one of three gates in the airport, on the other side of a glass wall from them all in the main terminal.
I imagine they made some sort of announcement I couldn't hear, asking them to pass through a set of double doors leading to their plane. They all calmly passed along the other side of the glass, shaking hands with a line of well-wishers to their right; I caught the eye of a young guy, and waved to him. Calina was sleeping in my arms. He smiled and waved back, glancing over at her on my shoulder. I wondered what he was thinking. Maybe just taking note of her helmet. Or maybe that she was why he was getting on a plane.
I like to imagine our military with noble ideals like that. Even if I sometimes think that their goodwill is abused or misused, it would be nice to know that they hope they're doing some good.
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