Free America's White Table by Margot Theis Raven, Mike Benny

It was just a little white table…
    but it brought tears of pride to my Uncle John’s eyes the Veterans Day he came for dinner and stood by it—set for one person—even though nobody would be eating at it.
    My country, ’tis of thee

    It was just a little white table…
    but earlier that day Mama had told Gretchen, Samantha, and me the little table we were setting for Veterans Day was just like the ones that have stood across America in the dining halls of the Army, Navy, Marine Corps, and Air Force since the Vietnam War ended.

    The tables honor the men and women who serve in America’s Armed Forces especially those missing in action—our MIAs, and those held prisoner of war—our POWs.
    Sweet land of liberty,

    It was just a little white table…
    but it felt as big as America when we helped Mama put each item on it and she told us why it was so important.
    â€œWe use a small table, girls,” she explained first, “to show one soldier’s lonely battle against many. We cover it with a white cloth to honor a soldier’s pure heart when he answers his country’s call to duty.
    We place a lemon slice and grains of salt on a plate to show a captive soldier’s bitter fate and the tears of families waiting for loved ones to return,” she continued.
    We push an empty chair to the table for the missing soldiers who are not here.”

    â€œWe lay a black napkin for the sorrow of captivity, and turn over a glass for the meal that won’t be eaten,” she said.
    â€œWe place a white candle for peace and finally, a red rose in a vase tied with a red ribbon for the hope that all our missing will return someday.”
    Mama finished speaking just as sunlight spilled on the table and filled the overturned glass.
    Of thee I sing;

    It was just a little white table…
    but it suddenly made me want to burst with a feeling I couldn’t explain when Mama told us how much our setting the white table would mean to Uncle John that night. Then she told us something we didn’t know: Our Uncle John—who gave us big bear hugs, and spun us with airplane twirls, and called me his Katie-girl…

    â€¦was a POW in Vietnam before we were born.
    It was just a little white table…
    but it gave us the courage to ask Mama what happened to Uncle John in Vietnam. She quietly told us his story.
    â€œWhen Uncle John served in Vietnam he was sent on a rescue mission, and his helicopter was shot down behind enemy lines,” she began.
    Land where my fathers died,

    â€œâ€¦and he and his three crew members were taken prisoner.
    One crew member named Mike had serious wounds from the crash, but Uncle John and the other men tried to help Mike get better and persuaded a guard to bring Mike medicine.
    Then one day when a guard looked away, Uncle John and the others had a chance to escape, but Mike was still too sick to go, so Uncle John stayed behind, because he wouldn’t leave a fellow soldier alone so far from home.”
    Land of the pilgrims’ pride,

    â€œBut how did Uncle John get free?” we asked Mama.
    â€œSometime later, Uncle John had a chance to escape again, and somehow he was able to take Mike with him, carrying him on his back and collecting just enough rainwater in big leaves to keep them alive until Uncle John found an American infantry unit to help them.
    But even though Uncle John did everything he could to bring Mike home alive, Mike’s wounds were just too serious and he died before the rescue helicopter landed.
    I know that Mike was only 20 years old and he dreamed of playing football, but he loved America enough to give his life for his country when duty called.
    And I know how much Uncle John loves America, too, but he learned when helping Mike that a soldier risks his life for a fellow soldier, because the best of your country lives in every man and woman who would lay down their life for you, too.”
    From every