I post this in Honor of my Dad,

Marvin Smith, US Navy, WWII Veteran.

This is a great story and I hope you will share it and pass it along.

Re: Army-Navy Game Train (an unpublicized act of generosity and appreciation).

Here’s a “today” story that occurred 4 months ago.

The idea started last Christmas when Bennett and Vivian Levin were overwhelmed by sadness while listening to radio reports of injured American troops. “We have to let them know we care,” Vivian told Bennett. So they organized a trip to bring soldiers from Walter Reed Army Medical Center and Bethesda Naval Hospital to the annual Army-Navy football game in Philadelphia on December 3. The cool part is they created their own train line to do this. Yes, there are people in this country who actually own real trains.

Bennett Levin, a native Philly guy, self-made millionaire and irascible former L&I Commissioner, is one of them. He owns three luxury rail cars. Think mahogany paneling, plush seating and white-linen dining areas. He also has two locomotives, which he stores at his Juniata Park train yard.

One car, the elegant Pennsylvania, carried John F Kennedy to the Army-Navy game in 1961 and 1962. Later it carried his brother Bobby’s body to D.C. for burial. “That’s a lot of history for one car,” says Bennett.

He and Vivian wanted to revive a tradition that endured from 1936 to 1975, during which trains carried
Army-Navy spectators from around the country directly to the stadium where the annual game is played. The Levins could think of no better passengers to reinstate the ceremonial ride than the wounded men and women recovering at Walter Reed in D.C. and Bethesda in Maryland. “We wanted to give them a first-class experience,” says Bennett. “Gourmet meals on board, private transportation from the train to the stadium, perfect seats – real hero treatment.”

Through the Army War College Foundation, of which he is a trustee, Bennett met with Walter Reed’s commanding general, who loved the idea. But Bennett had some ground rules first, all designed to keep the focus on the troops alone:

1. No press on the trip, lest the soldiers’ day of pampering devolve into a media circus.

2. No politicians either, because, said Bennett, “I don’t want some idiot making this trip into a campaign photo op.”

3. No Pentagon suits on board, otherwise the soldiers would be too busy saluting superiors to relax.

The general agreed to the conditions, and Bennett realized he had a problem on his hands. “I had to actually make this thing happen,” he laughs.

Over the next months, he recruited owners of 15 other sumptuous rail cars from around the country – these people tend to know each other – into lending their vehicles for the day. The name of their temporary train? The Liberty Limited.

Amtrak volunteered to transport the cars to D.C. – where they’d be coupled together for the round-trip to Philly – then back to their owners later.

Conrail offered to service the Liberty while it was in Philly. And SEPTA drivers would bus the disabled soldiers 200 yards from the train track to the football stadium before the game.

A benefactor from the War College ponied up 100 seats to the game – on the 50-yard-line – and lunch in a hospitality suite.

Corporate donors filled, for free and without asking for publicity, goodie bags for attendees:

From Woodrich, stadium blankes

From Wal-Mart, digital cameras

From Nikon, field glasses

From GEAR, down jackets

There was booty not just for the soldiers, but for their guests, too, since each was allowed to bring a friend or family member. The Marines declined the offer. “They voted not to take guests with them so they could take more Marines,” says Levin, choking up at the memory.

Bennett’s an emotional guy, so he was worried about how he’d react to meeting the 88 troops and guests at D.C.’s Union Station, where the trip originated. Some GIs were missing limbs. Others were wheelchair-bound or accompanied by medical personnel for the day. “They made it easy to be with them,” he says. “They were all smiles on the ride to Philly. Not an ounce of self-pity from any of them. They’re so full of life and determination.”

At the stadium, the troops reveled in the game, recalls Bennett. Not even Army’s loss to Navy could deflate the group’s rollicking mood.

Afterward, it was back to the train and yet another gourmet meal. “Heros get hungry,” says Levin, before returning to Walter Reed and Bethesda. “The day was spectacular,” says Levin. “It was all about those kids. It was awesome to be part of it.”

The most poignant moment for the Levins was when 11 Marines hugged them goodbye, then sang the Marine Hymn on the platform at Union Station.

“One of the guys was blind, but he said, ‘I can’t see you, but man, you must be beautiful!'” says Bennett. “I got a lump so big in my throat that I couldn’t even answer him.”

It’s been three weeks, but the Levins and their guests are still feeling the day’s love. “My Christmas came early,” says Levin, who is Jewish and who loves the Christmas season. “I can’t describe the feeling in the air.” Maybe it is hope.

As one guest wrote in a thank you note to Bennett and Vivian, “The fond memories generated last Saturday will sustain us all – whatever the future may bring.”

God bless the Levins.

And God bless the troops, every one.