I recently had the immeasurable experience of meeting and spending time with Lt. Col. Allen B. West. An American hero if ever indeed there was one.
Col. West was my guest on a talk show I was hosting that day. I had spoken with his attorney. I had also spoken with his lovely and gracious wife on separate occasions. But nothing from those conversions had prepared me for meeting the colonel himself.
America remembers Col. West, as the valiant and courageous Army officer from the frontlines of the war in Iraq and as FrontPage Magazine's Man of the Year. His troops and peers will remember him as a brave leader – one they would without hesitation follow into harm's way. But I will remember him as a man of dignity, compassion and unpretentious humility. A humility that belied the authority he possessed and the respect he commanded.
We discussed Col. West the man – not Col. West the soldier or warrior. I wanted to know the individual, not simply the person who had just spent months with death as a constant companion. And so I did.
My first question – "How does it feel to be home?" – gave insight as to the demeanor of the man. He responded:
It's a bittersweet thing, because there's the soldier and the warrior in you that still wants to be on the frontlines with your boys, back there in Iraq; and you know, I made the promise back in January-February of last year, to be on that airplane to bring them back home – 'course, I got a little early return.
'Course then there's also the side of you that's also glad to be back home, to spend my 14th anniversary on Christmas Eve with my wife and Christmas and New Year's with the family. It's very tough, and there's a lot of internal struggle that goes on – but it is a good feeling to be back in my America.
His comment on not being able to be "on that airplane to bring them [his boys] back home," gave new meaning to the word respect.
We discussed adjusting from mortar fire to home. Then I asked the question that I knew would prove or disprove the integrity of the man.
"Col. West," I began, "My understanding is that you and your family are Christians – what scripture, what part of your faith in Christ really stuck with you being in the belly of the whale?"
Without hesitation or pause for dramatic effect he answered:
There are various different scriptures, but the most prevalent is Psalms 91, which is often called the soldier's Psalm – then, as I was going through this experience, the book of Job meant a lot for me.
Then, there was Philippians 4:13, "I can do all things through Christ Jesus, Who strengthens me," and then there was also Romans 3:5 which talks about "tribulation producing perseverance, perseverance producing character and character producing hope."
And when all things failed, I would go all the way back to Joshua 1 – when God told Joshua "to be strong and of good courage;" and God told him that three times so he could understand it. So those were kinda the bedrock scriptures that I would go to ...
This man was genuine. He did not stand on ceremony. There was no swagger or arrogance. He had not clumsily fumbled to quote Scripture, nor had he pompously embellished his faith.
I share without shame that that day I wore my emotions on my sleeves – and not me only. I listened to caller after caller – civilian and military alike – pay respect and kudos to this man. I listened as his military brothers and he exchanged "Semper Fi," "Ooh-Rah" and other military jargon they shared in common.
The interview ended with the colonel and I agreeing to meet for tea and a cigar later this spring (tea for him – cigar for me).
As I write this, Col. West is returning to Fort Hood to conduct his retirement processing. His boys – i.e., his troops – will have only his spirit on that airplane as they return home, but return home they shall and many of them because he sacrificed his career to ensure it. The military is losing in Col. West that part which has made it the most feared, yet most compassionate. America can be proud of Col. West – who dares say different?
On a personal note ... Col. West, you once said, "If it's about the lives of my men and their safety, I'd go through hell with a gasoline can." Sir, if ever the privilege presented itself, from the bottom of my soul, please know I'd be honored to carry that can for you.