Story of the airport escort:

The Patriot Guard Riders assembled at DuPage Airport for the final return home of our neighbor, Christoper Antonik. His jet was already in the air. In a few hours it would be parked in this hanger.

For now it was empty except for four men talking near one wall. I went over to them.

Then these two rehearsed.

I knew what they were doing. I didn’t know why the other pallbearers were not rehearsing too.

So for now, I just watched.

Later I learned that Christopher was a Recon (reconnaissance) Marine before he transferred to Special Ops (operations) and when he was Recon he was a sniper. Sniper teams are two-man teams. Their job is to go with great stealth deep amid the enemy. If they get into trouble they can count on the full might and fury of the United States military to back them up, but not for a half-hour. For that first half-hour, if they get into trouble, they will be outnumbered a thousand-to-one and they will only have each other.

So Christopher’s sniper partner would take a place among the Operators carrying the casket.

Outside, Rob and Eric prepared us. We are a little less rigorous, but just as sincere.

This was the first time I saw Mark. He was Marine Special Ops until recently. Now he lives in Ohio with his pregnant wife. He had ridden to Illinois for this funeral.

Warriors of small units synchronize their minds and hearts. And their bodies.

Mark is still synched-up.

In Lake Bluff, the Fourth of July Parade is the biggest civic event of the year. We just had our 100^th parade. There is always a Guest of Honor in the reviewing stand – someone from the Great Lakes Naval Training Station just north of town, always in a crisp uniform. We wear brightly colored clothes and wave flags and never stop smiling.

The naval officer in the reviewing stand smiles less and salutes more. I’m not sure all my neighbors understand why.

It is a great honor to stand with these guys.

When you go to high school and you live in the home of your parents, you have next-door neighbors and across-the-street neighbors. Those are the neighbors that came with the house. You also have friends from school who live all around town, and they are neighbors in a broader sense. And your friends have next-door neighbors who are your neighbors even if you have never met them.

Then, if you leave that town to live somewhere else, they are not your neighbors anymore.

But there is an exception. If you leave that town to go into the service of your country, then every American is your neighbor from sea to shining sea. You live where they tell you to live and that is how you get an address, and it comes with the next-door type of neighbor, but everyone on your new base thinks of himself as your neighbor. Every fort, every camp, every FOB is full of people who are glad to see you and are happy you are there. And when higher command tells you to change your address, there are new faces that are glad to see you and are happy that you are there.

Every good American understands that our warriors don’t have roots quite like the rest of us. That is one of the many things they give up to live their special lives. And that is part of our meaning when we say, “Thank you for your service.” We are all their across-the-street neighbors. It is part of our debt to them. Every good American understands that.

A woman who lives near the DuPage Airport understands that well and brought two grandchildren to welcome their neighbor back home. They borrowed the two window flags that I clip on the back of my saddlebags.

They were the across-the-street flagline.

Their tight formation was the first thing the family saw when they arrived.

They were just bein’ good neighbors.

Your neighbors love you, Christopher.

The Patriot Guard Riders traveled with Christopher to the funeral home. We didn’t know him. Never met. Along the way we passed some of his neighbors who also probably never met him. I don’t have much else to say about the trip.

Except this: In the middle of the run, we passed these three folks:

The flag above is the size of a sheet of plywood. But more – it is the shape of a sheet of plywood. It is not 4 by 6, nor is it 5 by 8. It is 4 by 8. It is a casket flag.

I don’t know anything about them more than you, dear reader. All I know is what my camera’s eye caught as I was riding past. But this is what I think happened:

A father, mother and daughter learned that Christopher’s procession from the airport to the funeral home would pass near their home. An image occurred to the father of a flag-covered casket. He then thought of the folded flag in the display case hanging on the wall in the next room. He looked over to his wife to find that she and their daughter were exchanging distraught glances.

So he went to the display case and opened it for the first time in years. He removed the flag. After a moment of hesitation, he began to unfold the flag that a detail of Marines had folded. Three spent cartridges fell out onto the floor.

The mother and daughter had quietly joined him. The daughter quickly picked up the three cases and handed them to her father. He returned them to the display case and closed the door.

Of course, I don’t really know. All I know is what my camera’s eye caught as I was riding past. That’s just what I think.

After a time, we reached the funeral home. We found our positions and the Marines found their positions. We waited while Christopher’s family and Christopher’s friends gathered around us.

Americans show respect for their flag by using it only as a flag. Symbolism trumps functionality. For example, no good American would wipe the kitchen counter with one. There are obvious exceptions however. If during a Civil War battle, a Union soldier tears-up the Stars and Stripes to bandage the wound of a friend, the flag serves a higher, if temporary, purpose.

Television cameras were across the street so we extended our banners and created a temporary zone of privacy. I think that qualifies too.

PostScript: The next day I would have this wonderful experience again.

back to the Antonik Mission front page

on to Christopher’s visitation

back to ALL MISSIONS