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In the wardroom onboard the aircraft carrier from
which I recently debarked was a small, round table, with single chair. No one
ever sat there, and the reasons, both for the table being there, and for the
fact that the chair was always empty, will tell the reader a little bit about
who we are as a culture.
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The wardroom, of course, is where the officers
will dine; morning, noon and evening. It is not only a place to eat - it is also
a kind of oasis from the sometimes dreary, often difficult exigencies of the
service. A place of social discourse, of momentary relief from the burdens of
the day. The only things explicitly forbidden by inviolable tradition in the
wardroom are the wearing of a cover or sword by an officer not actually on
watch, or conversation which touches upon politics or religion.
But aboard ships which observe the
custom, another implicit taboo concerns the empty chair: No matter how crowded
the room, no matter who is waiting to be seated, that chair is never moved,
never taken.
The table is by the
main entrance to the wardroom. You will see it when you enter, and you will see
it when you leave. It draws your eyes because it is meant to. And because it
draws your eyes it draws your thoughts. And though it will be there every day
for as long as you are at sea, you will look at it every time and your eyes will
momentarily grow distant as you think for a moment. As you quietly give thanks.
As you
remember.
The small, round table is
covered with a white linen tablecloth. A single place setting rests there, of
fine bone china. A wineglass stands upon the table, inverted, empty. On the
dinner plate is a pinch of salt. On the bread plate is a slice of lemon. Besides
the plate lies a bible. There is a small vase with a single red rose upon the
table. Around the vase is wound a yellow ribbon. There is the empty
chair.
We will remember because over
the course of our careers, we will have had the opportunity to enjoy many a
formal evening of dinner and dancing in the fine company of those with whom we
have the honor to serve, and their lovely ladies. And as the night wears on, our
faces will in time become flushed with pleasure of each other's company, with
the exertions on the dance floor, with the effects of our libations. But while
the feast is still at its best, order will be called to the room - we will be
asked to raise our glasses to the empty table, and we will be asked to
remember:
- The table is round to
show our everlasting concern for those who are missing. The single setting
reminds us that every one of them went to their fates alone, that every life was
unique.
- The tablecloth is white
symbolizing the purity of their motives when they answered the call to
duty.
- The single red rose,
displayed in a vase, reminds us of the life of each of the missing, and their
loved ones who kept the faith.
- The
yellow ribbon around the vase symbolizes our continued determination to remember
them.
- The slice of lemon reminds us
of the bitterness of their fate.
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The salt symbolizes the tears shed by those who loved
them
- The bible represents the faith
that sustained them.
- The glass is
inverted -- they cannot share in the
toast.
- The chair is empty -- they
are not here. They are missing.
And
we will remember, and we will raise our glasses to those who went before us, and
who gave all that they had for us. And a part of the flush in our faces will
pale as we remember that nothing worth having ever came without a cost. We will
remember that many of our brothers and sisters have paid that cost in blood. We
will remember that the reckoning is not
over.
We many of us will settle with
our families into our holiday season, our Christmas season for those who
celebrate it, content in our fortune and prosperity. We will meet old friends
with smiles and laughter. We will meet our members of our family with hugs. We
will eat well, and exchange gifts and raise our glasses to the year passed in
gratitude, and to the year to come with hope. We will sleep the sleep of the
protected, secure in our homes, secure in our
homeland.
But for many families,
there will be an empty chair at the table this year. A place that is not
filled.
We should
remember.
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