An Empty Helmet Cannot Take a Knee

To Grunts, “to take a knee,” means something considerably different than to others. It is a momentary respite from the task at hand. It is an opportunity to gather the last ounce of inner strength to go forward when all parts of the body say STOP. Stop is not an option in their environment. “Move Out” is the clarion call of combat. And it is always answered. Game on.

The National Anthem and its meaning is something all Grunts understand. They played on our team.

Every day we all should take a knee and reflect on the service done by others, so we may enjoy our moments of peace, relaxation, and sport. Grunts play in a real game that others do not, and the end score is determined by mortal moments, not a clock.

So many days of our history, they awoke to a sunrise, not knowing if they would see the sunset or the smiles of those they left behind. Exiting an aircraft, slogging up snowbound hills, enduring the wave-driven agony of an amphibious assault, walking the silent deadly streets of Hue, Mogadishu or Fallujah, and the steep scree of barren slopes. They, then and now, go forward on our behalf—all Services and all service. Game on.

Each day, we should honor the person, the purpose, and the promise—the promise of what we were, what we are, and what we wish to be. And because of the Grunts that will play on our team, in that game, we should take a knee.

An empty helmet cannot.

There are moments and places where taking a knee would be most appropriate.

On a thick field of snow in a biting sub-zero wind to recall Valley Forge and remember how a Nation was born.

On a hot wheat field or peach orchard to recall Gettysburg and how a Nation was saved.

On a wide flat sandy beach to recall bloody Omaha and how our civilization was preserved and prevailed.

On any veteran’s cemetery, we should recall the greatest gift our Nation has bequeathed us—a wealth of ordinary people who have done extraordinary things on our behalf. On our team. Every day when the sun rises and sets, we should reflect that they gave their Tomorrows that we may enjoy our Today. Then, Take a Knee.

An empty helmet cannot.

Today, the world and its games are vastly different from what the Grunts of the past would remember. The battlefields are infinitely more complicated, dangerous, and lack clear boundaries. Our threats are numerous, ambiguous, and without easy solutions. At home, we rely on the thin red and blue lines of First Responders to retain order out of chaos. Abroad, we ask 1% of our population to shoulder the burden for the 99%, so we may go about our daily lives and benefits without pain, concern, and with minimal notice. For them, we should take a knee.

An empty helmet cannot.

The average age of our junior enlisted Infantry—Army and Marine—now both male and female, the very pointy and important tip of our National bayonet, playing on our team, is 19 years old.

How many 19 year olds do you know that have willingly written their will? When they suit up to play, they also willingly write a blank check on their lives for the rest of us. Some will be cashed and others not, but it is always to a constantly growing account for which our cemeteries attest. The players will change, but the significance of the game does not.

For their choice in playing on our team, we should take a knee and be eternally grateful.

An empty helmet cannot.