Remembering Belinda, with a hope for peace for all children
Memorial Day is fast approaching and my thoughts drift back 57 years, when I began Army basic training with a platoon of confused and scared young women who had sworn an oath to serve their country for the next three years.
These women were of all races, religions and cultures. Our drill instructor was African American, our lieutenant was African American, the first sergeant was Hispanic, and the commander was Hawaiian-Japanese.
Eight weeks later, the struggles of coming together to become a dedicated, cohesive group had melted away. We all marched across the parade ground on graduation day knowing we had accomplished the primary goal of training.
Alone we were nothing, together we could deal with anything.
It was during these eight weeks I became best friends with Belinda from Tennessee. She viewed the procedure of becoming a military woman with the same attitude as Goldie Hawn did in the classic movie “Private Benjamin.” Belinda had me totally convinced her recruiter had told her she would have room service in basic.
She once observed to our drill instructor that screaming and yelling before she had her first cup of coffee was simply un-American. I shall not repeat the DI’s response.
After graduation, she was assigned to Fort Benjamin Harrison for training, and I ended up at Fort Gordon, Georgia, for four months of training.
My first assignment took me to Fort Meyer, Virginia, and the Pentagon.
One fall afternoon as I strolled with friends to the dining hall, I heard someone call my name, and there she was, grinning like a cat who ate the canary.
Twenty of my platoon ended up in Washington, D.C., and we looked out for one another. When one of us got hit by the ups and down of Army life, there was always someone there for you.
One night one of the gang went off the deep end and was quite serious about harming herself over a romance gone wrong. Belinda managed to get into her motel room and slowly talk our friend down. I sat there with two of my friends and listened to Belinda talk a woman from the brink of destruction back to a place and attitude of hope.
Belinda insisted we keep it quiet for our friend’s sake. We helped our friend get two weeks leave and when she returned, she was back on track.
I marveled at how a family had been spared the loss of their child because of the gentle, patient and determined actions of this sometimes-raucous and unpredictable friend of mine.
Four months later, Belinda was transferred to Germany, and three months later she died in a car crash in Heidelberg, Germany, caused by a drunk driver.
I watched her flag-draped casket being carried by an honor guard on a lovely summer day in Tennessee to her final resting place. The rifle volley and then the mournful notes of Taps did not soothe my anger over how her life had ended.
I remember watching the flag that had covered her casket folded and handed to her family and hearing the words, “from a grateful nation.”
How many times through the years have I and others who have served our nation heard those simple words?
This Memorial Day, I will remember Belinda, and you will remember your loved ones buried across the land where flags will fly, names will be read and Taps will be played. Many of you will make that trip to the gravesite to place flowers and gather for a few moments. Then you will leave to go join friends and family for barbecues, reunions and a parade in your town.
When you remember loved ones who served in peacetime and war, think of those words, “from a grateful nation.”
Belinda had a cherished book of quotes, and she underlined a quote by Thomas Paine: “If there must be trouble, let it be in my day that my child may have peace.”
Memorial Day I will hold her book in my hands and hope for peace for all our children.
— This is the opinion of Patricia Wilson, a veteran and a resident of St. Cloud. Her column appears on the fourth Tuesday of the month.
This article originally appeared on St. Cloud Times: Remembering Belinda, with a hope for peace for all children
