A SOLDIER'S STORY
Words Are Not Necessary
By
Franke Gracia
Sometimes, no words are necessary.
As my fellow soldiers and I walked through the Dallas-Fort Worth airport, no words were necessary. Sure we were happy to be back in the states after a year in Afghanistan, but mostly, we were just tired, so there was no talking as we walked from one concourse to another to catch our puddle jumper to Fort Hood.
No words were necessary to say we were exhausted, that we had slept in our uniforms the night prior, that we were just home from overseas. As my small group of 15 soldiers marched along, ruck packs on our backs, circles under our eyes, combat patches on our right shoulders, I began to notice the way people were looking at us.
No words were necessary.
I will never forget the way that older gentleman looked at me, with such solemn pride. I smiled and nodded. He nodded and smiled back. I walked a little taller. I walked a little prouder. Teenagers looked at us with mouths agape. Mothers whispered to their children and then quickly pointed at us. I never imagined that the proudest moment of my life would be simply walking through an airport terminal, but without question, that was indeed the proudest moment of my life. I wish I could somehow describe the way those people in that airport looked at us, but that’s just not possible. I can tell you though, that words were not necessary.
There’s this look my mother gets when she hasn’t seen her grandchildren for a while. Upon seeing them, her whole face lights up and she positively glows. I can’t even begin to describe the look that comes over her face. No words could ever do it justice. She doesn’t say a word; she just stands there with open arms, beaming. When my mama first saw me at Fort Hood, I was surprised to see that look on her face; the one I thought was reserved only for her grandchildren, as she approached me with open arms.
I suppose when a son comes home from war, words are not necessary.
I was fortunate to be in the gymnasium stands next to a family to witness their reaction to seeing their soldier arrive at Fort Hood. As music blared, soldiers filed in one by one and fell into a mass formation on the gym floor. When this particular soldier entered the gym, he recognized his family in the stands and immediately raised his arm and pointed at them. I looked at the family. The matriarch stood stoically, smiling, silently weeping, clutching a handkerchief. One teenage girl was screaming, literally running in place. Another young girl repeatedly jumped up and down in one place in the stands, shrieking, arms flailing, tears streaming down her cheeks. I got goose bumps.
No words were necessary.
Sweethearts don’t need words either. Most just run to each other and embrace. I’ll never forget the two that simply walked slowly toward each other, eyes transfixed on each other, no words at all. When they reached each other they just stood there for a moment, looking at each other, not saying a word. They were the only two people in the gymnasium, the only two people at Fort Hood, the only two people in the world. They just stared at each other, indescribable expressions on their faces, for what seemed like a long time, but what was probably only a second or two. They then slowly leaned forward, embraced, and passionately kissed each other. No words were spoken.
No words were necessary.
But the one that tops them all, the one that I will never forget as long as I live, was the way that one soldier greeted his baby daughter. He caught my attention because he had raised his daughter above his head, holding her at arm’s length with both hands at the waist, tilting his head back to look at her. He said not a word. He just looked at his daughter. He never took his eyes off her. Then his eyes began to moisten. Then his lips began to tremble. Then, with his family gathered around him, no one saying a word, he lowered his daughter slowly and cradled her gently and lovingly in his arms.
Then this combat veteran, in battle dress uniform, never saying a word, just stared at his daughter, slowly rocking her back and forth. Then, never taking his eyes off his daughter, never saying a word, he began to weep, and then to sob. Two soldiers standing next to me wiped away tears. I did the same. No words were spoken. No words were necessary.
Sometimes, no words are necessary.
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Franke Gracia lives in Temple, Texas and was deployed in Afghanistan with the National Guard from May 2005 to April 2006. He is a math professor at Temple College and is very close to his family that includes two brothers and two sisters. He earned a bronze star while he was deployed, which he gave to his mother. As to why he decided to write this series of articles he says, "I hope folks who read my scribbling will gain a greater appreciation of what a citizen-soldier goes through during a deployment."
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