I put my carry-on in the luggage compartment and sat down in my seat, settling in for what would be a long flight. “I’m glad I have a good book to read,” I thought. “Maybe I’ll even get a quick nap.” Just before takeoff, a group of soldiers filed down the aisle and filled the remaining seats, surrounding me. I decided to start a conversation with the soldier next to me.
“Where are you headed?” I asked.
“Petawawa,” he said. “We’ll be there for two weeks of special training, and then we’re being deployed to Afghanistan.”
About an hour into the flight, the flight attendant announced that sack lunches were available for $5.
Hungry and eager to pass the time, I reached for my wallet. As I did, I overheard one soldier ask his buddy if he planned on buying lunch.
“No, that’s a lot of money for a sack lunch,” he said. “I’ll wait till we get to base.”
His friend agreed. Looking around, I realized none of the soldiers were buying lunch.
I made my way to the back of the plane and handed the flight attendant a $50 bill.
“Please give lunches to all those soldiers,” I said. She grabbed my arm, her eyes filled with tears.
“My son was a soldier in Iraq,” she said. “It’s almost like you’re doing this for him.” She collected 10 sacks and began handing them out to the soldiers. When she reached my seat, she asked, “Beef or chicken?”
“Chicken,” I replied, a little confused. She walked back to the front of the plane, then returned with a first-class dinner plate.
“This is your thanks,” she said, smiling.
After we finished eating, I headed to the restroom. On my way back, a man stopped me. “I saw what you did,” he said, handing me $25. “I want to be part of it.”
A few minutes later, I saw the Flight Captain walking down the aisle, glancing at seat numbers. When he reached my row, he stopped, smiled, and extended his hand.
“I want to shake your hand,” he said. “I was a soldier and a military pilot. Once, someone bought me lunch. It’s an act of kindness I never forgot.” As we shook hands, applause erupted from the other passengers. I felt a bit embarrassed but deeply moved.
Later, as I stretched my legs at the front of the plane, another man reached out to shake my hand and slipped another $25 into it. When we landed, and I gathered my belongings, a man at the door pressed something into my shirt pocket before walking away—another $25.
In the terminal, I saw the soldiers gathering for their trip to the base. I walked over and handed them the $75 I had received. “It’ll take you a while to get to base,” I said. “This should help you grab a sandwich along the way. God bless you.”
As I walked to my car, I whispered a prayer for their safe return. These soldiers were giving their all for our country. I could only give them a couple of meals, which felt like so little in comparison.
A veteran is someone who, at some point in their life, wrote a blank check made payable to “The United States of America” for an amount “up to and including my life.” That is honor, and too many people have forgotten what that means.