Encounter with a Hero
by Sharon Olbertson, Kilian College
Lindsay Sorben and I had completed our “official work” in Washington, D. C.: we had gone to each of our legislator’s offices and lobbied for their continued support of the National Writing Project; we had attended the NWP roundtable sessions about various writing topics. Now we were simply enjoying the many attractions the city had to offer.
As we rested on a park bench, inhaling the scent of the blossoming cherry trees, a fit but elderly gentleman strode close to our bench. I caught a brief glance of the red logo on his shirt—T-u-s-k– with the rest covered by his jacket. My mind immediately connected this to earlier images of our venture: a cluster of people with red blazers, a brief news clip on T.V., a Good Morning America story by Robin Roberts from many months ago.
“Sir!” I walked toward him. “Are you one of the Tuskegee airmen honored at the Capitol this morning?” He was somewhat taken aback by this total stranger reaching toward him, asking to shake his hand. “I want to thank you,” I explained, “for what you did for our country.”
What this man had done, as I remembered from Robin Roberts’ story about her pilot father, was to fly missions during WW II as a member of the Tuskegee Airmen. Things being what they were at that time in history, black pilots had their own, separate unit. These 800 men had done courageous things but had not been recognized for their valor.
Until that day—March 30, 2007—when several hundred survivors of that unit were awarded the Congressional Medal of Honor by the president of the United States, the son of another courageous pilot!
I babbled something about the privilege of meeting a genuine American hero. I shook his hand again. He showed us the medal—a gold disk that filled the entire palm of his hand! And then, Mr. Sam Broadaxe, with grace and humility, explained. “If there had been a debt to us that hadn’t been paid, it was paid today.”
The impact is still with me. Lindsay and I later realized that Mr. Broadax had to be in his 80s, but he looked and moved like a much younger man. I thought of all the Tuskegee airmen who went to their graves unnoticed, unappreciated. Not knowing anything about the deployment of units during WW II, I allowed myself to think that perhaps these airmen had helped protect a navy man like my own dad.
I don’t know what Mr. Broadaxe did when he returned from his military duties. I suspect that for 60 years after the war, he was probably just like my dad after the war—an ordinary man. But unlike my dad, this Congressional Medal of Honor recipient spent years in separate businesses, separate restaurants, separate washrooms, separate schools.
What a loss for our country to have overlooked/ignored/denied the heroes in our presence!
And THAT is the most significant memory I have of Washington, D.C., 2007!
