John Penich of Beach Park, Illinois

John Penich was a neighbor.

No, not in the next-door sense. He lived 15 miles from me. But he died in a firefight in northeast Afghanistan and it is only 15 miles. I certainly will be there.

John was a “Blue Spader”, the name coming from the 26^th Regiment’s DUI (distinctive unit insignia) that features a symbol that is similar to a spade. The 26^th Infantry Regiment was formed in 1901 and has served in every conflict our country has faced through the 20^th Century. At the outset of World War I, it became a component of the First Infantry Division, the Big Red One.

(The First Division is Colonel McCormick’s outfit that is celebrated at Cantigny, the McCormick estate in Wheaton where my grandson Kevin and I visited after the Lenny Gulczynski funeral in Carol Stream last month.)

When our army was reorganized following World War II, the 26^th Regiment was reduced to a single battalion, the First Battalion.

The 1/26 was deployed to Iraq from August, 2006 until October, 2007 – the same period that our son Jim was there. (Jim is now a fireman near Dallas. Our other son John will return to Iraq for his third deployment in three months.) Jim was north of Baghdad. The 1/26 was in eastern Baghdad. During that deployment, 1/26 soldier Ross McGinnis earned our nation’s highest award, the Medal of Honor. From the citation:

That afternoon his platoon was conducting combat control operations in an effort to reduce and control sectarian violence in the area. While Private McGinnis was manning the M2 .50-caliber Machine Gun, a fragmentation grenade thrown by an insurgent fell through the gunner's hatch into the vehicle. Reacting quickly, he yelled "grenade," allowing all four members of his crew to prepare for the grenade's blast. Then, rather than leaping from the gunner's hatch to safety, Private McGinnis made the courageous decision to protect his crew. In a selfless act of bravery, in which he was mortally wounded, Private McGinnis covered the live grenade, pinning it between his body and the vehicle and absorbing most of the explosion.

That is why Ross McGinnis did not deploy with the 1/26 to Afghanistan three months ago. But John Penich did.

John and the other courageous soldiers of the 1/26 of the Big Red One were sent to the Korengal River Valley. The Korengal is located in the mountainous Kunar Province which is adjacent to the part of Pakistan that the Pakistani government has left to the control of the local tribes. This is the area where the remnants of the Taliban have been chased and where Osama bin Laden is hiding. The Korengal is where the forces of civilization tangle with the forces of terrorism. According to a magazine story published earlier this year:

The Korengal is widely considered to be the most dangerous … the tip of the spear for the American forces there. Nearly one-fifth of all combat in Afghanistan occurs in this valley, and nearly three-quarters of all the bombs dropped by NATO forces in Afghanistan are dropped in the surrounding area. The fighting is on foot and it is deadly, and the zone of American control moves hilltop by hilltop, ridge by ridge, a hundred yards at a time. There is literally no safe place in the Korengal Valley.

The September 11^th attacks were conceived in a place like this. The culture that executed those attacks has been pushed into the caves and shadows here, but they are here. John Penich graduated from Zion-Benton High School a few months before the September 11^th attacks. He then spent a few years working locally and thinking about joining our army. And then he joined. He rose to the rank of Sergeant. And that is how he became one of the courageous soldiers of the 1/26 patrolling the Korengal.

As I write this, his funeral is 5 days away.

~~~

As I write this, his funeral is 4 days away.

We went to Waukegan to meet his plane this morning. It rained overnight and was below 50 degrees this morning. Plus, it is a weekday and it is an early schedule. So it was sure to be a light turnout.

Fortunately Kevin did not have school today, so there would be at least the two of us. I was glad to see another PGRider…now there would be at least three of us. We arrived early.

Boy, was I wrong. 20 bikes were already there and waiting. And more kept coming.

They came through an hour of rain from Aurora, Crystal Lake and Milwaukee. That’s South, West and North. If it weren’t for Lake Michigan, PGRiders would have come from the East, too. Among them, Kevin, Austin & Colin:

Also Bradley, Patton & Eisenhower:

The U.S. Army was there of course. And so were the Waukegan Police, the Zion Police, the Lake County Sheriff and Melissa McCrady.

The credit she is due: Melissa had her story on the TV before I got home to write this.

And then, after the greetings, after the TV interviews, and after the briefing, we moved to the hanger.

I was taking a picture of Kevin when Mark Pleasant tapped me on the shoulder, “I think that’s the plane.”

So I rotated my azimuth 180 and kept shooting.

The Waukegan Regional Airport fire trucks made an arc of water for our fallen hero to pass through.

Then the little truck pushed the plane backwards into the hanger where PGRiders, cops and family were waiting.

The hanger was cavernous and the many motors echoed from every direction. The engine of the little truck, the motors that opened and closed the huge hanger doors, the mechanisms that control the doors of the jet and the lift that removes the casket.

And then – silence.

The hanger doors had been closed and all the other motors seemed to switch off at the same time. We were no longer standing in a hanger. It became a chapel.

The army moved John Penich from the jet to the hearse as we silently held our flags. Death stands abashed before the brave.

Then we mounted-up and escorted John to the funeral home in Zion.

We stood with flags again as the army moved John again.

Then we left.

~~~

Day of the wake: John Penich was playing cards with his friends the day before he was killed. It was just a card game among soldiers. Still, one of his friends recorded it. That video was playing in the funeral home during the visitation. Kevin & Cory took turns with Allison & Austin opening the doors for the visitors.

This gentleman, wearing a Camp Lejeune shirt, stopped at each of our flags and rendered a salute. His halting progress was compounded by his use of a cane.

I approached him to get after-the-fact permission to have his photo. He agreed and then continued, “My son is over there now. He already got blown up once…”

~~~

Day of the funeral: Cool hearse.

It may be a funeral, but the first three letters are FUN.

John Penich was a fun guy. That is the impression I got from reading about him and talking to his family. He was a biker and a squad leader. If you told him he was making America safe from terror, he would probably shrug and reply, “I’m just camping-out with friends and having a little target practice.”

Good soldiers are fun guys. They must make life-and-death decisions daily for a year, and then after a break, return for another deployment. They can’t maintain focus if they can’t maintain sanity. Certainly they serve the foreign policy interest for their country, but that is not what they think about. They think about their buddies who are there with them and they think about the bad guys who are always nearby, but just out of sight.

Our great democracy sends only volunteers into battle, but volunteering is not enough. One must be fit, smart and motivated too. And that is not enough. John was a natural leader. No doubt that is why he was the only one killed by the bomb that injured six others in his squad. He was a first-rate soldier.

His job was “beans, boots and bullets” for the soldiers in his charge. He played cards with them and he led hem into battle. He left international diplomacy to others, but their fine purpose was his goal. He learned the soldiers’ skills and then he taught those skills. Our great democracy sent him forward even at the risk of losing him.

Say not they die, those martyr souls

Whose life is winged with purpose fine;

Who leave us, pointing to the goals;

Who learn to conquer and resign.

The core PGR mission is KIA funerals. Sandy is more of a “welcome home” kind of girl. She told me she may substitute VA hospital visits for the sad missions that are our focus. It is hard to remember the fine purpose John served when the whole morning is consumed by his burial.

I do not imagine that it was any easier for our Ride Captain. The first snow of the season had fallen as we stood with our flags at the funeral home yesterday. Of this morning, Steve would later write, “As I awoke to prepare for my ride to honor our Hero it was about 35 degrees outside, but the cold didn’t bother me as it was a small sacrifice compared to the sacrifice John made for me and my freedoms.”

At both the airport briefing and again at the funeral briefing, he read from a newspaper story that underscored the humanity of the warrior we now celebrated.

Everyone dies. We celebrate only the very few who fill the world with glowing light. Only they live on in the hearts of their countrymen who sent them into battle and who benefit from their great sacrifice.

Such cannot die; they vanquish time,

And fill the world with glowing light,

Making the human life sublime

With memories of their sacred might.

The American Legion performed a ceremony last night and they returned to join us again today. The Knights of Columbus celebrated his sacred might with us.

John’s life overlapped that of this little boy by only a few years. I was standing in line with my flag in front of the church, facing it. The hearse would park between my flagline and the parishioners standing on the grass at the building. The little boy erupted with a series of long screams. They were not complaints. He was simply asserting the vitality of our great democracy that will carry on from the good effort that John Penich had given him. John’s heart had stopped but the beat continued in the chest of this little boy.

They cannot die whose lives are part

Of that great life which is to be,

Whose hearts beat with the world’s great heart,

And throb with its high destiny.

I don’t know if they entrusted the flag to the soldier with the most spiritual demeanor, or if the soldier took his demeanor from the flag that was in his trust. Either way, according to the display on his chest, this is a Staff Sergeant of high destiny. But so was our fallen hero. Big Joe would later write, “Sgt John Penich was a true hero in every sense of the word… A Sergeant with Two Bronze Stars, Purple Heart, Good Conduct Medal, Army Commendation Medal, Combat Infantry Badge Jump Wings and a recommendation for the Silver Star. Unbelievable accomplishments for one with a little over two years in the Army.”

The more I understand about our army, the more I admire it and the people who make it what it is. This was the third funeral that Larry Wyche and I have in common. Technical competence is the key to rising in our army to the rank of Colonel. One more promotion and they send you out to face the families of the fallen. Generals go to funerals, and that is wise.

The Seven Army Values are Loyalty, Duty, Respect, Selfless Service, Honor, Integrity and Personal Courage.

John Penich embraced the Seven Army Values. I know because he must have. Our army does not make you a squad leader and send you into the Korengal River Valley unless your whole life enshrines Truth and Love.

They cannot die whose life enshrines

A soul of truth and human love;

Their beacon light eternal shines,

Guiding unto the realms above.

Every life is sacred and we do not lower the flag when the stock market dives, but the Governor of Illinois ordered flags flown at half-staff for John Penich.

And to make sure that John’s parishioners knew why, the Lieutenant Governor addressed them inside the church.

And then he walked down the line of motorcycles to be sure that we knew, too.

Then mourn not those who dying gave

A gift of greater light to man:

Death stands abashed before the brave;

They own a life he may not ban.

And so we celebrate. Not the champagne-type of celebration. More the riding-through-the-cold-to-stand-while-holding-flags type of celebration.

And then we paraded to the cemetery. We formed a Circle of Comfort and stood, flags in hand, again. Three volleys were fired. Taps was played. And then, the only sound more authoritative than a motorcycle rumbled across the grave site.

This picture was taken after the service. When the T-28s passed during the service, they came in just above the tree tops. Each has a 1425 HP radial engine. From a distance, those in assembly might have thought they were strays from the Waukegan Regional Airport, where John had arrived and which is adjacent to the church. But the sound got louder and louder. And louder.

I was standing under a tree with my flag – which are two reasons why I couldn’t take a photo – but I could see the pilot’s eyes.

In a couple weeks we will reach the third anniversary of the death of Jim Ochsner, Sergeant First Class, United States Army, killed by an IED in Afghanistan. Death stands abashed before the brave.

Shown below, Jim’s father marches to his place in the flagline for John Penich. Jim and John, brothers.

Jim and John are also the names of Robin’s two sons. When we married 4 ½ years ago, they were both soldiers. Happily, they are both doing well today. Jim Ochsner and John Penich are martyred souls.

Malcolm Quin was minister of the Positivist Community of Newcastle-upon-Tyne some 80 years ago. He wrote a few hymns. This one is about the immortality of soldiers.