Thoughts on an Army Ball

So Matt and I went to the Brigade ball a few days ago. It was fun to doll up and wear a gown (more on that later) and it was full of the traditional Army stuff. I could write about how they decided that a grog bowl would be a good idea....sigh. Or I could compliment the guest speaker's ability to not bore a room.

But the thing that hit hardest was the tradition of having a table set for the soldiers that did not come home. If you have never been to a ball, you may not know about this, so I'll give you the gist.

At each ball, a table is set up and placed either near the official party or in a place of honor where everyone can see it. A description of the table is given during the part of the program where toasts are made to the Army, our Commander In Chief, etc etc.

The table is set for just one, symbolizing the frailty of one prisoner alone against his oppressors. The table cloth is always white to symbolize the purity of the Soldier's intent in answering his country's call to duty. The rose is reminiscent of a Soldier's loved ones, friends, and fellow troops left behind.

There is a slice of lemon on the plate to symbolize the bitter fate of our fallen brothers and sisters. Salt is added to remind us of the tears shed by his family. The glass (behind the red candle) is turned upside down. He cannot toast with us any longer. The chair is empty and leaned against the table to remind us he is not here. The helmet and boots signify the uniform he wore defending his country to the very end.

After the end of the description of the table a toast is proposed in honor of our fallen brothers and sisters. But, this time, we do not drink.

A small table without a chair is set for one. Depending on the unit, they may turn the wine glass upside down or not place it on the table to symbolize how the soldiers can not participate in the toasts. There is typically a red rose and other items to symbolize the loss of one of our own. As we stood listening to the speaker recite the traditions and explain them, a slideshow began to play. It was very quick, every second a new name and picture would appear on the screen. All of the soldiers who died in Iraq were remembered. He spoke for several minutes and then, even though the images were only up for a second, we still stood silently for several more minutes as we watched the names and faces flashed across the screen.

I knew some of them. Matt was close to some of them. We didn't lose anyone in our company, but a brigade is still a small enough group that everyone knew the names and stories behind those who died.

I reached over and held his hand. I'm selfish, but I'm grateful that I have not had to make that sacrifice. The name of one girl briefly appeared and I remembered the look on Matt's face as his told me what happened to her. Too many of the faces were young, younger than me. Or they looked like someone I vaugely remembered from the last ball.

Of everything that we did that night, I'm glad that they remembered to honor the memories of those who did not come home. I have known several people who lost their husband in the last few years. Killeen is home to the largest group of war widows and it's hard not to worry that one day someone will knock on my door with news of my husband's death.