My mind was foggy, sleep-deprived from jet lag and work. So I was caught off guard when a tall, slim camouflage-clad figure appeared out of nowhere. “Major?” “Yes.” “I’m Sgt. Copperidge and I want to thank you for mentioning me in the speech.”
“The speech” was one to be given by my boss, at this American base in Germany, to soldiers supporting the war in Iraq. Sgt. Copperidge had found his way into the speech while it was being drafted in the Pentagon weeks earlier. This was 2004, so the details are a bit fuzzy now, but it seems his story went like this: While recuperating from battle injuries, he’d “liberated” himself from a military hospital and found a helicopter ride back to his unit, to rejoin his buddies who were headed for the front — the only place he wanted to be.
Alas, I’d seen his story removed from the speech, for time, during final edits on the ground — a cut I felt deeply. And one I regretted even more as my mind connected this living, breathing figure with the written example of courage, resilience and pluck.
And, now, somehow, here on this vast parade ground, in a sea of people, he’d made his way to me. To see this young soldier healthy and whole … almost jaunty … was a revelation. And humbling. You’re thanking me, I recall thinking. I write speeches. My tired mind searched for just the right thing to say. But before anything passed my lips, he left, practically vanished. But I registered his smile. I next remember tears welling up. Then and now I thank God for people like Sgt. Copperidge.
Watching the U.S. Army’s 250th birthday celebration yesterday, I was struck by how young the soldiers seemed. How proud and confident. How happy everyone there seemed as our soldiers paraded by.
I imagine they join me in gratitude to see a source of our strength continually renew itself across generations, humbled to know our service members voluntarily dedicate themselves to preserving what makes America America.
Revelation Reports 
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