Star-Journbal Editor
America, it has been said, is not like a blanket made of a single piece of cloth, with the same color, texture, and size.
No.
America is more like a quilt made of many pieces of different colors, woven and held together by a common thread.
A patchwork of Americans of different ages, backgrounds and modes of transportation was drawn together by two common threads Saturday at the Hillsboro American Legion Post #366.
The common threads were their love and appreciation for Army Spc. Molly Holub, 20, of Marion, who was wounded in a roadside bombing in Iraq.
In a tradition older than the Republic itself, Holub was given a large handmade quilt from the Quilt of Valor Foundation.
Struck in the face by shrapnel from the roadside bomb blast, Holub, 20, a 2004 Marion High School graduate, suffered facial fractures and her left eye was surgically removed.
At the beginning of the brief indoor ceremony, the acting post chaplain offered a prayer, asking God "to bless this quilt so that it will add comfort and meaning to what Molly has been through."
In presenting the quilt, Katy Vickers, leader of the Kansas chapter of Quilts of Valor, from Wichita, said giving quilts to wounded soldiers dates back to the Revolutionary War.
"Back then medicine was almost nil, and about the only thing we had to offer our wounded was a quilt for comfort and our prayers," Vickers said.
"I know I speak for everyone in here when I say from the bottom of our hearts, thank you for your sacrifice and your service to our country."
The audience applauded Holub as she went up onstage to accept her quilt.
As the ladies of the bee unfurled their handiwork, Vickers said, "Every stitch in that quilt has a prayer for your recovery and a blessing for your life. Thank you."
A bouquet of flowers was given to Holub by Hillsboro Mayor Delores Dalke, who said, "On behalf of the citizens of Hillsboro, we want to give you a small token of our appreciation for what you have done for our country. Thank you."
Wearing everyday civilian clothes, Holub, obviously happy, stepped to the microphone.
"Well, I know I've said it before, but I just want to say it again; I could never begin to repay any of you guys for all the help everyone has given to me," Holub said. "I know it means so much to my guys over there when they hear stories about everything everybody's done for me back home.
"I tell them about the riders coming for me and all the support I get. It makes them feel better knowing that we have people back home who are still thinking about us, and caring about us, and that will take time and effort out to help us.
"I really appreciate it. It means the world to me. Thank you."
A group of military veterans calling itself the Patriot Guard, parked Harley-Davidsons outside the post Saturday. The bikers wore black leathers and chains, with American flags, and American Legion insignia stitched to their vests.
In contrast, at the other tables sat regular Legionnaires, local citizens, and women from the Wichita quilting bee.
After dozens of photographs, including one with a group of Patriot Guards, Holub returned to her table to join her sister, Sgt. Tamra Holub, who is stationed at McConnell AFB in Wichita, and her grandmother, Ruby Holub, of Marion.
Since returning home Sept. 24, to a hero's welcome and parade, Holub, the first Marion County resident to be wounded in Iraq, said the outpouring of support has awed her.
Military officials gave her no warning or advice on how to prepare for, or conduct herself, the spotlight of her star-spangled celebrity.
"I didn't expect this much support, but it's been awesome," Holub said. "I haven't felt worn out. It's been more refreshing than anything."
The U.S. Army Specialist served as a military police officer in Iraq and wants to return to active duty. She signed on for five years and planned to make it her career. An Army medical board will review her request.
Holub is scheduled to return to Walter Reed for evaluation, and several surgeries are in her future, so the comfort quilt is likely to be put to use.
Meantime, she's been getting back in shape, gradually, riding a stationary bicycle and doing some light exercises, she said.
"I'm not supposed to run and other stuff, but I can't just sit there, so I do my stationary biking. I still have a fracture, so I'm not supposed to be bouncing. There's been no pain, really, but with fractures and broken bones you get aches every once in awhile.
"In the last few weeks I haven't had to take Tylenol or anything."
She has, however, felt "worried sick" about her fellow soldiers in Iraq, such as Sergeants Fuller and Hunt, along with Specialists Roth, Denson, Serna, and the rest of her squad, with whom she rode on police patrols. She keeps them up to date on her progress via e-mail.
"I wasn't worried at all when I was there," she said. "I'm worried about them, but I know they can do their jobs. They took care of me, you know.
"When we rolled out the gate, I never once was scared," she added. "I rode with these guys for almost two years, trusting my life in their hands."
The guys, who wear patches with "Holub" on their uniforms, have a brotherly concern for Molly, and that includes making sure that her sacrifice is appreciated by folks back home.
She assures them, it is.
In spades.
"I've gotten hundreds upon hundreds of cards," Holub said. "And there's been so many letters, and phone calls from all over the place."
She especially appreciated the cards and posters she received from school children while she was still laid up at Walter Reed Hospital, she added.
While most wounded soldiers receive their Quilts of Valor while still hospitalized, Holub's wasn't ready until she got back to the comfort of home.
With pride in the uniform she plans to wear again, Holub was dressed in Army fatigues for the welcome home parade.
Holub wore civilian clothes to the ceremony on Saturday for the same reason: pride in the uniform.
She explained that because she was whisked from the battlefield, she hadn't had been able to bring back her own uniforms, and so she borrowed one from her soldier sister to wear in the parade.
From a distance, well-wishers lining the streets couldn't see Holub's boots still were covered with dirt from her last hours on the Iraqi battlefield.
"I didn't want to walk in with them looking like that, you know," Holub said. "They were all right for the parade when nobody got close enough to see them, but not in here."
