Disply box with West Point uniform, sash, and saber, with Tarbuckets and Plebe knowledge
As a result of the back and forth, as well as purges
from my parents’ home moves, the saber went missing. It hasn’t turned up in years—not even when I cleaned out my mom’s house after her death.
My husband has his saber in a display case his father made,
with my sash and his uniform trousers. Our tarbuckets and plumes sit in front, and our Bugle Notes of Plebe knowledge sit atop the case.
Guests in our home often ask me where my saber is. I’ve had to sadly inform them it was missing in action.
Shrouded in all the bubble wrap was a shiny scabbard I’d know anywhere.
I unsheathed the familiar blade. It gleamed, remarkably tarnish-free! Hmmm, I spied some fresh traces of Brasso on the hilt.
My saber comes home
It turned out that my brother had found the saber while helping my dad move his belongings to storage. Not only did Trey send it to me, he spent a long time polishing the saber before shipping it out. An act of service, a love language.
Me, Dad (a Sergeant Major), and my brother Trey
Trey is a former Army Aviator who had just enlisted when I completed West Point, and he got a pass from Basic Training to attend the graduation.
He later became a Warrant Officer, earned his Air Cav spurs, and served a full career in the Army. I’m pretty sure he never had to Brasso a single thing as a pilot!
He never carried a saber, but he knew how much mine meant to me. This surprise was a show of respect for the symbol of my service, as well as a love note for his sister.
I am humbled by his thoughtfulness, and I am humbled to have served.