Flying with Heroes

On a recent business flight to the east coast, I happened to end up sitting next to a young woman on her way to Army basic training. When she discovered that I was an old retired Navy goat, she spent most of the flight picking my brain about what to expect in boot camp (and afterwards).  I admitted that my own days as a boot were more than thirty years behind me, and that Army basic training and Navy basic training probably aren’t much alike.  But I did my best to give her my honest impressions about military life—the bad as well as the good.

When the meal cart rolled by, she whipped out a voucher check issued by her Army recruiting station, and tried to buy a boxed lunch. The flight attendant, a man of about my own age, politely pointed out that Delta Airlines only accepts credit cards or debit cards.  Her voucher check was no good on the plane.

The young recruit tucked away her meal voucher and resigned herself to finishing a coast-to-coast flight with only airline peanuts to eat. I wasn’t about to let a soon-to-be soldier go hungry, so I reached for my credit card and told her to order whatever she wanted.  When I tried to hand my card to the flight attendant, he shook his head.  “Nope,” he said.  “This one’s on me.”

He handed the recruit a boxed lunch and a couple of snacks, and then trundled his cart down the aisle before I could catch his name. I looked for that flight attendant when the plane landed in Atlanta, so I could thank him for his kindness, but he was nowhere to be seen.

If anyone from Delta Customer Relations happens to read this, it was Delta Flight 1692, on October 21st.  The male attendant on that flight showed generosity and support for our troops in a very simple, but utterly unmistakable way.  He didn’t ask for recognition, and he didn’t even stick around long enough for me to thank him.  Whatever his name, I’d like to shake his hand if I ever see him again.

As far as I’m concerned, there were at least two heroes on that plane. One was a young woman, leaving home for the first time, embarking on the first steps of her service to our country.  The other was a man who went a little beyond the scope of his job to do both the right thing, and the kind thing.  Not the sort of deed that wins medals, or gets chiseled into stone monuments.  But exactly the kind of quiet and genuine support that our troops deserve.

And that earns you a heartfelt Bravo Zulu from an old Navy Chief.