Take that, Taliban!

Editor’s note: We arrived at Naperville North High School at 0830, formed parallel flaglines for the arrival of the family, assembled for a briefing and then re-formed our flaglines. The funeral service began at 1000.

Naperville has a celebration called the “Last Fling” over the Labor Day weekend each year. That argued against a long funeral procession of our many motorcycles. Tony’s mother Debbie Wolfe, his older brother Mike, his fiancée Megan Allen and other family would travel with the hearse escorted by two Naperville motorcycle police and only three PGRiders, but not until the end of the service.

Shortly after the beginning of the service, the rest of us left the high school for the cemetery, one at a time. Some of those departures are pictured below. The newspaper story below was published four years earlier. After reading it, I have a sense that Tony would approve of the picture above, taken just outside of the Auditorium as his funeral began inside.

by John Keilman, Chicago Tribune staff reporter

Published September 6, 2004

With 4 inches of plaid boxer shorts visible above sagging jeans, Tony Mihalo fit almost perfectly into the teen crowd idling away the night in a Naperville bowling alley. Only a tight haircut hinted that he was different.

On Tuesday, the beefy 19-year-old will board a flight to San Diego, where, by nightfall, he will be chin-deep in the caldron of Marine Corps basic training at Camp Pendleton. That is the initial stop on what he expects to be a path leading to infantry duty in Iraq.

Mihalo enlisted in December as a senior at Naperville North High School but chose to delay his entry until fall, after graduation. That has given him a final summer at home, three golden months of movies, road trips and late-night sessions playing video games.

It also has been a time of anxiety. Every casualty report on the news has reinforced the danger of war and worries about basic training – legendary for its toughness – occasionally have nibbled at his confidence.

The dark thoughts, though, leave quickly. And because he endured four years of Naperville North football, where grueling practices often left him vomiting, he figures he already has had a taste of the torment boot camp will offer.

As his final few days tick away, the last thing he feels before drifting off to sleep is impatience.

"Next week at this time, I'll be getting off the plane and onto the bus" for boot camp, he said in his room last week, thumbs atwitter on his video game controller. "It's nerve-racking, but at the same time I just want it to hurry up and get over with."

Breaking expectations: Naperville is a wealthy town where children are expected to go to college. Few enter the Armed Forces – only 10 of the 788 students in Mihalo's graduating class enlisted – and some sense a prejudice against those who do.

"If ... I say I have a son going into the military, all of a sudden, it's like, `Oh, you're letting him do that?'" said Mihalo's mother, Debbie Wolfe. "They look at him as though he's not educated."

But Mihalo has seemed fated for the military since he was a child, clapping a helmet atop his head to play soldier in the woods behind his house. His older brother Mike, 21, said Mihalo has talked about joining the military for at least 10 years, a resolve that was hardened by the Sept. 11, 2001, terrorist attacks.

After an emotional college-versus-military debate, his parents gave their blessing, and in December, one day after taking the military aptitude test with the Marines, he signed up for a four-year enlistment as an infantryman.

When his girlfriend, Megan Allen, 18, left her job as a restaurant hostess that night, Mihalo was waiting by her car, a red rose placed on the windshield.

"Guess what I did tonight?" he said.

Allen, who wants to be a teacher and will attend the College of DuPage this fall, knew he was planning to join the military after high school and supported his decision. That hasn't made his impending departure easier to handle.

"Especially now that it's sure he's leaving, it's gotten harder for me to deal with because I know there's a chance he might not come back," she said.

But she has tried to put aside those thoughts for the summer, as have friends, relatives and Mihalo himself. He has ridden the twisting roller coasters at Cedar Point in Ohio, spent lazy afternoons at Centennial Beach in Naperville and taken an impetuous road trip with his buddies to a Downstate hamlet whose name he can't remember.

"We spent four or five hours getting there, and there was one street, a gas station, a bank and a grocery store. That was it," he said. "We got some gas, some beef jerky and Gatorade, turned around and came back. It was the most random town ever."

In late August, Mihalo and his brother Mike flew to Los Angeles for a blowout weekend of baseball and pro wrestling. Mihalo leaped to his feet to cheer The Rock's mouthy antics, and later, he caught a glimpse of actor Kevin Sorbo while in line in the airport Burger King.

"Hey, Hercules!" he shouted.

Subdued last days: Mihalo's last week has been quieter. His parents moved him from his basement lair to a pleasant, second-story bedroom, hoping to infuse him with some final homey memories. Most of his friends already have gone to college, so he has been spending more time with Allen, watching movies, cruising the mall and eating out.

A recent evening found the couple beneath the black lights and disco balls of Naperville's Brunswick Zone, bowling in a fluorescent glow and gently mocking each other's clumsy throws.

"OK, you win," said Allen, eyes rolling, when the time ran out on their lane.

"Thank you," said Mihalo as he strutted away to the shoe counter.

Curling her fingers around her mouth like a megaphone, Allen called after him in a sarcastic chime: "Jo-king."

But Mihalo's final days at home also have held ample reminders of the world he is about to enter. On Wednesday, he underwent hours of pre-boot camp paperwork, physical tests and background checks, and that night, he went to the weekly conditioning and drill session offered to Marine enlistees.

He and nine other closely cropped teens did push-ups in the grass bordering the mini-mall housing the recruiting office. They practiced marching in the parking lot, doing their best to keep their eyes off the bikini-clad mannequins in the windows of a lingerie shop.

There was a lot to remember, from making precise, 30-inch strides to mastering an arm swing that was simultaneously meticulous and natural. The recruiters made constant corrections – sometimes in language that was Redd Foxx raw – and though Mihalo was occasionally out of step, he seemed more comfortable than most.

'He's got the heart': "Tony's here every Wednesday night," said Gunnery Sgt. Larry Pyles, who runs the recruiting office. "He's here; he's got the heart. He wants to be a Marine. Him, I don't worry about."

Ready as Mihalo might be, boot camp undoubtedly will hold a few shocks. Craig Bochnak, 22, a Naperville North grad who last year finished a three-year stint with the Marines, said he contracted pneumonia and dropped 40 pounds at Camp Pendleton. He still cringes at the memory of his 100-man platoon having to use a 12-stall bathroom in three minutes.

And basic training will be just the start of Mihalo's service. Although there are no guarantees he will be sent into harm's way, he said he would volunteer for duty in Iraq.

"If I'm going to go military, I don't want to punch computer keys. I want to get my hands dirty," he said.

That's the part that worries his mother. She is glad he has found a direction for his life and thinks he will do well in the Marines. But she believes he could soon face danger that, injury or death aside, could irrevocably change him.

"I don't know, down the road, exactly what person he's going to be," she said.

There has been little time to dwell on that. Mihalo's dwindling days at home needed to be filled with a high school football game, a party with pals, a blizzard of visits and phone calls – a last goodbye to being a kid in the gentle heart of suburbia.

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