A week before her funeral, the local (Decatur) newspaper reported a conversation between the Sergeant and the mother of 22 year-old Karen Clifton, an American soldier serving in Baghdad, Iraq:

The sergeant told her [Carol, the mother] he was in a Humvee ahead of hers [Karen, the daughter-soldier], and he believed he saw the blast that took her life in his rearview mirror. Apparently, someone stepped out from the shadows, firing the rocket-propelled grenade from a short distance away.

"He said they got her from the side," Carol Clifton said. "She never knew what hit her. He said you can rest assured she died painlessly."

Carol Clifton asked the sergeant how she could be sure that it was Karen's remains that would be returned home. The sergeant replied that he personally picked up what he could, and that was what was placed in a casket.

“Thanks” is certainly not enough, but nothing said would ever be enough so it will have to do.

As it happened, we had a weekend funeral on a fine summer day. I think, however, that most of the Patriot Guard Riders who were there would have ridden and stood for this brave MP on a workday in the middle of winter.

And there are some among us who always pay a greater price than others on every mission. I have seen guys who can’t afford to skip work who skip work anyway. I have seen guys who have suffered loss in this war put their pain aside to ease the pain of a family they have never met. And I have frequently seen guys in our flaglines whose health prevents them from standing – so they sit to hold a flag and rise only when called to render a salute.

And there are some among us who give more than they have to give. Chris brought the flags. His cousin was our Ride Captain and he told me that Chris was in a terrible motorcycle accident when he was 17. He has been in pain ever since. It is difficult for him to stand, harder to move around. Outside the funeral home, he was distributing flags and water. His activity and the heat of the day knocked him down. He was taken away in an ambulance.

Happily, I just talked to him (a week later) and he is ready for the next mission. I publish the following photo as a tribute to his courage and determination.

The Patriot Guard, like our military, is purely voluntary. None of us complains about the sacrifices we make because the sacrifice that Karen and the other fallen heroes we celebrate is so much greater.

The fine movie “Gettysburg” includes a scene where Confederate General Armistead, walking before the assembled troops, addresses British military observer Colonel Freemantle just before Pickett’s charge:

…that's Private Robert Tyler Jones. His grandfather was President of the United States. The colonel behind me…that's Colonel William Aylett. Now, his great-grandfather was the Virginian, Patrick Henry. It was Patrick Henry who said to your King George III, "Give me liberty, or give me death." There are boys here from Norfolk…Portsmouth…small hamlets along the James River. From Charlottesville and Fredericksburg…and the Shenondoah Valley. Mostly, they're all veteran soldiers now; the cowards and shirkers are long gone. Every man here knows his duty. They would make this charge, even without an officer to lead them. They know the gravity of the situation, and the mettle of their foe. They know that this day's work will be desperate and deadly. They know, that for many of them, this will be their last charge. But not one of them needs to be told what is expected of him. They're all willing to make the supreme sacrifice…

Karen didn’t know she was going to die – not even one second before she did. But she knew she might, as all soldiers know. That is what made her a hero and that is why we were there.

The family was there because she was family. The other mourners were there because they knew her and because they want to show respect. We in the Patriot Guard rarely know the fallen hero we seek to honor; we are there only to show respect.

So I always contact the Ride Captain in advance to assure him that I will not feature the casket or immediate family in my photos. In that conversation I learned that the family had welcomed photography everywhere except inside the funeral home.

I had traveled 220 miles to attend that morning and I would travel another 550 miles that afternoon to attend another funeral the next day for a soldier in my stepson’s battalion. So I had four wheels this day.

Usually I have only two wheels when I am part of the funeral procession, so I can’t take pictures, even when I have permission. This day I had both permission and opportunity. I took a hundred and managed to keep in my lane (mostly) while doing it. I couldn’t use the viewfinder, so I had to shoot blindly. I got a lot of asphalt and clouds, but also two dozen relevant ones.

I often feel self-conscious wielding a camera at a funeral. But I often feel thirsty or fatigued or cold or hot – like every Patriot Guard – when I try go to try to do the right thing. Surely, a self-conscious feeling is not as bad as whatever Chris felt as he fell over backward. So I try to do my job with dignity and caution.

The couple in the car that immediately followed mine to the cemetery had a long time to watch my struggles. They might have been thinking about another summer 10 years ago when the death of another woman changed the popular opinion of “paparazzi” and my efforts quite reasonably angered them.

At the cemetery, I parked on the grass where I was directed and was putting my equipment away so that I would be free to stand in one last flagline for Karen. The driver of the car following mine knocked on the glass of my window. A few moments later we were both standing in the grass of the cemetery, 50 feet from Karen’s grave, other mourners all around us, as he told me loudly and in the strongest language what he thought my motives were.

It was not the time for me to try to defend my actions. Now, however, I must say that I fundamentally agree with him. Not about taking these photos, but rather about facing those who would exploit a funeral, and especially a soldier’s funeral. He was doing exactly what the Patriot Guard was born to do.

So to him I would now say that, while I am not sorry for recording these images, I am very sorry for taking pictures in a way that gave him the impression that I was disrespectful. For that I most sincerely apologize. I will remember our brief confrontation in the future when I try to contribute to our memory of these fallen heroes.

And I hope that the family will study these people who did not attend the funeral but were compelled to stand by the side of the road as Karen passed by. I hope they will be comforted by this record of some of her neighbors who probably never met her but who wanted to honor her in the view of her family.

Because the people standing at the side of the road, like the Patriot Guard – including me – wish only to show respect for her sacrifice and gratitude for the sacrifice of her family. Thanks, Karen.

The photographs for Karen’s funeral are organized into three albums:

the staging area

the funeral home

more at the funeral home and the trip to the cemetery