A Hero's Welcome for DDG-109

Today, we welcomed home the USS Jason Dunham, DDG-109, and her crew of 300, give or take, after 9 months deployed. It was a scene rich in emotion as other ships blew their horns, tug boats sprayed water arcing into the air, and family members lined the pier cheering, waving, and calling sailors by name. 

My wife and I were there among the throng. Dressed in everything from dress whites to cut-offs and Tshirts, the crowd waited to welcome our loved ones back to terra firma. 

For a few moments, as the sailors came by, I was surrounded by heroes. I suspect if you asked them, they would not want that label. "Just doing our job," or some equally nebulous answer was probably repeated more than once. But the Combat Action Ribbons and the black-painted outlines of the enemy weapons - drones and missiles - the ship and her helos shot down all tell a different story. You don't get a CAR for getting a paper cut. You don't paint those outlines on the side of a ship for swatting paper airplanes out of the skies. Those tell of tense moments and anxious breaths and murmured words, wondering what was about to happen. 

Those heroes sailed over 70,000 nautical miles - mostly in circles, figure eights, and boxes, our son said. I don't know how many gallons of fuel, tons of food, cans of energy drinks, and cans of tobacco were used to accomplish that feat. I know there were internet phone calls, emails, and texts a-plenty, with more than a few tears, "I love you's", and a few throaty promises of "I'll call when I can." I know because we got a few of them. 

It takes a special person to say, "I'll enlist," to entrust their very lives to an organization that cannot consider the individuality of each man or woman, but rather the wholeness of the crew, the fleet, and the Navy. 

I stood among them today, not as equal, but as one filled with the admiration of their respect of duty, honor, and country. My son was one of the 300. My son is one of those heroes. 

This afternoon, he and I ran back to his ship to get a few things. He wasn't onboard three minutes and the alarm rang for white smoke midship. Technically on leave, he didn't hesitate. He dressed out as part of the flying crew (first-wave attack firemen) and moved in. Turns out it was no big thing (yet) - a belt got messed up in the valley dish washer and started smoking - but it could have gotten out of hand quickly. Even though he didn't have to suit up, he did. The person in charge said she was grateful he showed up because she knew he was capable and trustworthy. That's my boy. 

My boy is a man. 

My boy is my hero. 

There was a time when he walked behind me. Then, he walked beside me, at first holding my hand, then not needing me for the same kind of support and encouragement. Two years ago, he shook my hand before leaving for boot camp. Now, he stands tall, a professional sailor, a professional Navy man. 

I'm not worthy to stand among the heroes. But, I will gladly follow in my hero's footsteps.