Yellow Ribbons
The first group of soldiers who went to the Mid-East for Desert Shield and
Desert Storm were returning home. They were heroes returning from the first Gulf
War. The large plane landed at the airfield on West Fort Hood. The soldiers were
still in their desert camo uniforms and each one carried a heavy duffel bag. It
had been a long trip home and you could see the anticipation on their faces,
waiting to see their loved ones.
They were loaded onto buses and soon left the airstrip on the way to Abrams
Field House where they would find the wife, kids or other family that had been
left behind all those months ago.
The buses drove down the road to the highway and turned the corner onto the
access road. Most of the young men and women were surprised to see the highway
lined with cars, yellow ribbons blowing in the breeze.
Yellow ribbons were everywhere. They were tied to car antennas and the railings
on the overpasses. Some were tied around lampposts and some, like the song, were
tied around the trees that stood at the roadside.
Cheers were heard from the crowd, welcoming the returning troops.
These men and women returned alive and unharmed.
My husband watched this warm, supportive welcome on the evening news.
"Do you know what kind of welcome we received coming back from Nam?" he asked
quietly.
"I watched the news," I said, knowing I could never know the whole truth.
"We were spit on and called names. Protest groups picketed the airport…" he
said, wanting to say so much more. "War is never a good thing, but it is still a
necessary evil. Someday…"
I put my hand gently on his thigh. "Someday there will be no need for yellow
ribbons or flag draped caskets and the sound of "Taps" played on a lonely
bugle."