A trip to Iraq
Hi All,
I got this message tonight from a friend in the TLC Brotherhood and
thought you might like to read it.
All -- Christy Ferer is a 9/11 widow who recently took an Armed Forces
Entertainment Office and USO-sponsored trip to Iraq with a group of
celebrities (including Robert DeNiro and Kid Rock, among others) to show
support for the soldiers, sailors, airmen and Marines still over there.
Following is the text of an e-note she sent her escorts about the
experience; it is really powerful and very moving, and will make you more
proud than ever that you have chosen to serve your country. With her
permission, we published it Monday in AF Print News; in case you missed it
there, here it is.
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A note of thanks to those who serve
by Christy Ferer
af.mil 6/30/2003 - NEW YORK
(AFPN) --
When I told friends about my pilgrimage to Iraq to thank the U.S. troops,
reaction was underwhelming at best.
Some were blunt. "Why are you going there?"
They could not understand why it was important for me, a 9/11 widow, to
express my support for the men and women stationed today in the Gulf.
But the reason seemed clear to me: 200,000 troops have been sent halfway
around the world to stabilize the kind of culture that breeds terrorists
like those who I believe began World War III on Sept. 11, 2001.
Reaction was so politely negative that I began to doubt my role on the first
USO/Tribeca Institute tour into newly occupied Iraq where, on average, a
soldier a day is killed.
Besides, with Robert De Niro, Kid Rock, Rebecca and John Stamos, Wayne
Newton, Gary Sinise, and Lee Ann Womack, who needed me?
Did they really want to hear about my husband, Neil Levin, who went to work
as director of the New York Port Authority on Sept.11 and never came home?
How would they relate to the two others traveling with me: Ginny Bauer, a
New Jersey homemaker and the mother of three who lost her husband, David;
and former Marine Jon Vigiano, who lost his only sons, Jon, a firefighter
and Joe, a policeman.
As we were choppered over deserts that looked like bleached bread crumbs, I
wondered if I'd feel like a street hawker, passing out Port Authority pins
and baseball caps as I said "thank you" to the troops. Would a hug from me
mean anything at all in the presence of the Dallas Cowboy cheerleaders and a
Victoria's Secret model?
The first "meet and greet" made me weep. Why? Soldiers, armed with M16s and
saddlebags of water in 120-degree heat, swarmed over the stars for photos
and autographs. When it was announced that a trio of Sept. 11 family members
was also in the tent it was as if a psychic cork on an emotional dam was
popped.
Soldiers from all over our great country rushed toward us to express their
condolences. Some wanted to touch us, as if they needed a physical
connection to our sorrow and for some living proof for why they were there.
One mother of two from Montana told me she enlisted because of Sept. 11.
Dozens of others told us the same thing. One young soldier showed me his
metal bracelet engraved with the name of a victim he never knew and that
awful date none of us will ever forget.
In fact at every encounter with the troops there would be a surge of
Reservists -- firefighters and cops, including many who had worked the
rubble of Ground Zero -- wanting to exchange a hometown hug.
Their glassy eyes still do not allow anyone to penetrate too far inside to
the place where their trauma is lodged; the trauma of a devastation far
greater than anyone who hadn't been there could even imagine. It's there in
me, too. I had forced my way downtown on that awful morning, convinced that
I could find Neil beneath the rubble.
What I was not prepared for was to have soldiers show us the World Trade
Center memorabilia they'd carried with them into the streets of Baghdad.
Others had clearly been holding in stories of personal 9/11 tragedies which
had made them enlist.
USO handlers moved us from one corner to the next so everyone could meet us.
One fire brigade plucked the three of us from the crowd, transporting us to
their firehouse to call on those who had to stand guard during the Baghdad
concert. It was all about touching us and feeling the reason they were in
this hell.
Back at Baghdad International Airport, Kid Rock turned a "meet and greet"
into an impromptu concert in a steamy airport hangar before 5000 troops.
One particular soldier, Capt. Vargas from the Bronx, told me he enlisted in
the Army after some of his wife's best friends were lost at the World Trade
Center.
When he glimpsed the piece of recovered metal from the Towers that I had
been showing to a group of soldiers he grasped for it as if it were the Holy
Grail. Then he handed it to Kid Rock who passed the precious metal through
the 5000 troops in the audience. They lunged at the opportunity to touch the
steel that symbolized what so many of them felt was the purpose of their
mission -- which puts them at risk every day in the 116 degree heat, not
knowing all the while if a sniper was going to strike at anytime.
Looking into that sea of khaki gave me chills even in that blistering heat.
To me, those troops were there to avenge the murder of my husband and 3,000
others. When I got to the microphone I told them we had not made this
journey for condolences but to thank them and to tell them that the families
of 9/11 think of them every day. They lift our hearts.
The crowd interrupted me with chants of "USA, USA, USA." Many wept.
What happened next left no doubt that the troops drew inspiration from our
tragedies.
When I was first asked to speak to thousands of troops in Qatar, after Iraq,
I wondered if it would feel like a "grief for sale" spectacle.
But this time I was shaking because I was to present the recovered WTC steel
to Gen. Tommy Franks (U.S. Central Command commander). I quivered as I
handed him the icy gray block of steel. His great craggy eyes welled up with
tears. The sea of khaki fell silent. Then the proud four-star general was
unable to hold back the tears which streamed down his face on center stage
before 4,000 troops. As this mighty man turned from the spotlight to regain
his composure I comforted him with a hug.
Now, when do I return?
Editor's note: This commentary is printed with permission from Christy
Ferer, a New York native whose husband, Neil Levin, was killed in the Sept.
11 terrorist attacks. Ferer was part of a recent United Services
Organizations tour to Iraq.) |
