Walter Reed Hospital Christmas

On December 18th, 2012,  I was honored to be able to hand out gifts at Walter Reed National Military Medical Center on behalf of the Wrentham Police Association the Wrentham Police Department, and the Massachusetts Coalition of Police.  It is not often that I am so moved as to sit and write about an experience, this was a moment worthy of documentation and of telling.

 

Several weeks ago I was asked by a friend in the law enforcement community for a contribution intended for our Nation’s wounded warriors at Walter Reed Hospital.  My organization was glad to contribute and I was honored to travel to Washington, D.C. to meet some of these heroes.

 

When we arrived at “Building 62,” we unloaded hundreds of items, from New England sports shirts and hats to stuffed animals, pins and police memorabilia, onto folding tables in the lobby.



As I stocked the tables, I watched dozens of wheelchairs speed by, piloted by young men with one or no legs. Several with neither arms nor legs. There were men on crutches with prosthetics or rigid braces and visible skin graft and surgical scars. I noticed stickers adorning casts, prosthetic limbs and wheel chairs indicating the branch of service to which they proudly belonged, or a purple heart or both. I considered the faces of young people with horrible scars, cochlear implants hidden behind ears and other men with wounds not visible, but apparent in their gait or in the way they struggled to speak.

So moving was all of this to me that I found myself no longer stocking the tables, but swallowing a growing lump in my throat. But as I looked on, I saw smiles on those wounded faces. Men leaning over the tables to shake hands with the cops from Massachusetts who were only going to be there for a couple of hours to peer into their world; into their lives; their personal bravery and courage.

“Merry Christmas,”I said to one young man in a uniform whose hands were trembling as he held a small stuffed teddy bear. “Merry Christmas, sir” he said without taking his eyes of the toy. His hands shook and his speech was slow and deliberate. There was a long scar on the side of his head plainly visible through his close cropped military haircut. “I have three babies at home,”he told me has he held the bear. “I have a seven year old son and two daughters; three and two.” He was smiling. I said, “Well you can’t just take one bear or the other two will be jealous,” and laughed. The soldier replied slowly and deliberately, “Well, I can’t take more than one because what if someone else wants one for their child?”

I put three bears in a plastic bag for the soldier and told him we had a whole box full of these bears for others if they want them. He said, “Thank you so much, sir, my little ones will be so happy.” We did not really have another box and the bears he took for his children were three of only four we had to give away. This man sacrificed himself for us; for America; for his own precious children. All I could do is hand him three teddy bears for his kids and wish him a merry Christmas and thank him for his tremendous sacrifice for me. He said before he left, “Thank you so much for all of this,” and smiled. He started to walk away from the tables without taking anything for himself despite my urging him to take something. “I’m all set! Thank you,” he said smiling, holding the plastic bag with the three bears inside like it was a trophy.

No sir, thank you and everyone here, Merry Christmas.

Sgt. James Barrett

President

Wrentham Police Association

 

 

 

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