Ronnie Polaneczky: G.I. Joe and the volcano

This column was originally published on April 21, 2010

AS ARMY Lt. Richard Cobb cooled his heels at Philadelphia International Airport yesterday, he was glad for two things.

First, that it was an act of God, not war, that left him stranded at the airport. Most flights to and from Northern Europe have been grounded for a week because of belched ash from the volcanic eruption in Iceland.

The second thing that made him grateful was that he had such a welcoming place at the airport to wait for his postponed flight to Germany: The USO Liberty Center, a heavenly slice of four-star serenity tucked in a corner of Terminal A.

"I could talk about these [USO volunteers] for days," said Cobb, 26, who's assigned to the 95th Military Police Battalion, stationed in Mannheim, Germany. "Their hospitality has been unbelievable. The beds and showers are great. They're constantly asking me if I want something to eat, if I need a wake-up call, if there's anything they can do.

"I wouldn't normally talk to the media," he says politely, as he watches me scribble his words in my notepad. "But these guys really deserve the publicity. They do a phenomenal job."

Most people are familiar with the USO because of celebrity tours that bring entertainers to war zones, to cheer battle-weary soldiers in need of star-powered distraction.

But the USO also operates welcome centers in airports around the world, offering comfort to military personnel and their families. Some centers are little more than a single room where troops can get a free cup of coffee, a smile and a hearty "Thank you for your service" on their way into or out of town.

Others, like Philly's USO Liberty Center, are sophisticated, 24/7 operations that rival any airline's luxe, frequent-flier digs.

The roomy, multi-room center sports comfy bunk beds and good showers; hot meals and wide-screen TVs; free laundry service and wireless Internet; and so many soft recliners to sink into, a soldier could forget that he ever napped against a rock in the sweltering grit of Iraq.

The center sees about 1,400 visitors each week, most on their way to and from deployment. Others, passing through on leave, are just looking to pass the time between connecting flights.

Which is what Cobb thought he'd be doing.

He'd just spent a week on vacation. His wife, Audra (also a military police officer), was attending a two-week conference in the States, and Cobb took a week's leave to join her for part of it.

After a visit with in-laws in Phoenix, he flew to Philly last Thursday, expecting to make a connecting flight to Germany - only to find when he landed that the flight was canceled.

USAir sent him back to Phoenix and rescheduled his flight for Monday.

But when he landed here he learned that the Germany leg was again postponed. This time, he made his way to Liberty Center to figure things out.

That's where I found him yesterday, intending to offer a hot supper at my house to whichever stranded soldier was hungriest.

Once I met Cobb, though, I realized that the Liberty Center had it all over Chez Ronnie. It wasn't just that the delicious lasagna smells wafting from the kitchen made my mouth water more than my own lasagna does.

It was that the Liberty Center was cleaner, newer and nicer than my own home.

Besides, Cobb didn't want to leave the airport, in case a stand-by seat opened up on a flight back to Mannheim.

"I just want to get back home. But," he said, gesturing to the center's dimly lit TV room, where recliners were gathered in a semicircle around a big screen, "this is one of the nicest places I've ever been delayed."

One time, coming off a deployment in Iraq - where he sustained shrapnel injuries in an explosion that eventually netted eight Purple Hearts for his unit - a sandstorm delayed his flight home for nearly a week.

Audra was also once delayed for days, when a deicing truck hit the wing of the plane in which her unit was to have flown home.

"It kills morale, when you're delayed," he said. "When you're deployed, you go numb. You try to block out how much you miss your family and everyone back home. When you see that plane, all you want to do is get back to your life. Every minute of delay is unbearable."

If the volcanic cloud moves the way forecasters expect it to, Cobb may finally be en route by the end of today, having spent his delay in a far more bearable place - the USO Liberty Center.

It's not home. But it's pretty darn close.

E-mail polaner@phillynews.com or call 215-854-2217. For recent columns:

http://go.philly.com/polaneczky. Read Ronnie's blog at http://go.philly.com/ronnieblog.