History’s effect on the heart Published June 23, 2008 By Michael Byrd 90th Space Wing historian F.E. Warren AFB, Wyo. -- What is the connection between history and the heart? I mean, for the most part history is viewed as cold, old and often times boring. History is our memory. We make our present-day decisions based on our past experiences. These experiences, both good and bad, are stored as memories which we recall when needed. Since memory is such a frail thing, we've created books to permanently capture what we've learned; to remind ourselves of past challenges and successes. This is true for our base, as well. Each day men and women serve the mission of Warren and each day their service is uniquely tied to its history. Each day I meet and greet people who give more, do more and ask for less because they give from the heart. Somewhere in their history, a mother, a father or an NCO mentor taught them the importance of doing their job right and to do it with pride. Their present performance is tied to their past, to history. The same is true for our missileers, our security police, our medics and our service people. They often perform mundane tasks with no reward, thanks or recognition. The same was true for the cavalry soldiers of Fort D.A. Russell who rode patrols, served on fatigue details, cut firewood and took part in regular drills. They, like you, did their jobs and did them well and, like you, they did more. They also provided food to settlers following a grasshopper plague, rescued train passengers when snowed in by a blizzard and protected railroad construction workers from Native American attacks. Like you, these early soldiers followed an unwritten American heritage of working hard, laughing often and helping your neighbor. Our heritage makes us who we are today. My step-dad served in the Navy during World War II as a Seabee. He contributed to the rebuilding of the Pacific islands of Okinawa and Iwo Jima. For years I asked him what he did and saw there and for years his eyes would tear-up and he would walk away in silence. Then, one day as he grew feeble he sat me down and told me. He looked to his hands and recounted the horror of war. As tears streaked down his pale face he recounted to me the bodies he picked up, the young faces he saw and the grief he still felt. In my home office sits his picture and when I see it I remember his words and the kindness of the man and the terror he lived through. And by simply seeing his picture, my loyalty and passion for liberty is once again strengthened and inflamed. History touches the heart.