what words can do

Photos by my cousin.

Some of you may have read how my cousin--a Chinook pilot--was recently deployed to Afghanistan, here.  A few weeks ago--less than two weeks after he arrived in Afghanistan--a Chinook was shot down and everyone was lost.  It was a very long day as we waited for the Army to lift his Unit's blackout (a ban on communication to and from soldiers when this kind of thing happens).  We were lucky; my cousin was not the pilot of the downed Chinook.  But one of his buddies, someone from his Company, was the flight engineer. Pat was lost.


Yesterday, Pat was buried in our home town.  On the Company's Facebook page, I read the following, written by one of the Army sentries who travelled with Pat's body to its final resting place.  This man's writing touched me so much--especially when I think about his job, bringing these men home--I decided to share.

I was honored to be one of the sentries that stood vigil with Pat upon his return to Nebraska and over the past 3 days I watched 2 families grieve the loss of one of their own, Pat's family, Candy, his parents and all his other relatives, and his Guard family. Over the past 3 days, hundreds of people came to say goodbye to Pat each in their own way. At the visitation there were people who could not bring themselves to come close to the coffin, they would look at all the flowers and look at Pat's metals but they just couldn't look at the flag draped coffin. Then there were those that came up put their hands on the coffin and couldn't pull themselves away, but they all said goodbye one by one.

Pat and I said our goodbyes one on one, late at night with no one else around. Sitting there with Pat in the quiet of the night I thought about things Pat would do or say and how much I would miss him, and like the people at the visitation there were times I couldn't look and times I couldn't look away.

Today we said goodbye as one family. The day started with a simple ride to the church, Pat, the funeral director and me in the hearse with 5 American Legion riders leading us. No fanfare just a quiet ride across Lincoln. When we arrived at the church the Patriot Guard Riders where there literally by the hundreds. They were lined up in front of their bikes some holding flags some standing at attention, all standing still. The State Command Sergeant Major and I were helping to get Pat into the church and when the door of the hearse opened all that was said was "present arms" and the Patriot Guard saluted and all was quiet.

Inside the church there was the last minute buzz of getting things ready. The Patriot Guard members came in and said their goodbyes. Friends, Soldiers and Pat's family all coming up. Those that wept now cried, those that cried now were consumed, knowing it was one step closer to Pat's final resting.

Minutes before the funeral started the honor guard was in position and the Sergeant Major said "Sentries you are dismissed." I put my hand on Pat's coffin one last time and said take care my friend. The service was perfect, the church was overflowing with people, 3 pastors spoke all with words of comfort and all with words of hope. Pat's brothers told stories about Pat as a kid and the Adjutant General spoke about Pat as a Soldier. He read the testimonials that John and Burt had written. Then it was time for Pat's final ride.

Now that my duties were done I rode with my wife in the procession and let me tell you there were cars as far as you could see. The route to the cemetery was dotted with groups of people with American flags, hands over hearts and even a few signs saying thank you. We passed a fire station and the firefighters had their trucks out with the lights on. All those people in there way saying thank you Pat and goodbye.

Graveside, it was amazing how quiet hundreds of people can be. The only sound was the bell that rang every few seconds calling all of us to gather for Pat one last time. Prayers were said and then "Present Arms". The 21 gun salute and taps. The notes of the trumpets died away replaced by the sounds of people crying.

Can you imagine this gaping maw in
flight, with a flight engineer saluting
Pat?

Then in the distant we heard them, the 3 Chinooks. It is a sound like no other. The Muleskinner's wives, and girlfriends were all gathered together and when the Chinooks could be heard they all hugged and cried. For just a minute they didn't cry for Pat, for he was already home. They cried for all their loved ones still in harms way. The Chinooks came on closer and closer. The lead aircraft was Pat's. They came in low and fast, the ramps down the Flight Engineers on the ramp taking their turn to say thank you and goodbye. Then they were gone and what was once a gathering of silence was now a chorus of tears. Tough men in leather biker jackets, Soldiers in all their splendor all weeping.

The flag was lifted off Pat's coffin and folded and presented to Candy and the girls, flags were also presented to Pat's parents and then it was done. Pat's journey home was complete.

While I am no fan of this war, I am in awe of the dedication of my cousin and the rest of our soldiers, sailors and airmen/women, who put their lives at risk for our country.  I pray that when my cousin returns to us, he will not be accompanied by a "sentry"...that he will come home to his wife and two little girls, whole and unscarred.