Kevin and I returned the next morning for the funeral. The funeral home is located across a street from the Downers Grove North practice field, and they were practicing this morning.

Kevin and I watched the practice for a while. To me, it was reassuring to see the high school football team having a morning practice. After all, this is August and that is the month for two-a-days. Helmets but no pads and a lot of sprinting – this is the month the coach will identify his first team.

Of course Kevin has not seen many Augusts so he doesn’t know that helmets-but-no-pads presages the turning of the leaves to Autumnal colors. He starts kindergarten in two weeks – this is the beginning of his lifelong seasonal awareness programming that we internalize at these latitudes.

Perhaps, years from now, a high school football scrimmage will remind Kevin of a proud moment. David Morris is an Englishman who became an American and loves his adopted country. That is why he is a reliable PGR member and, member to member, he would congratulate Kevin this morning.

Greg had given Kevin a “mission accomplished” pin, Mark had given Kevin a challenge coin, and now David gave Kevin dog tags. I gave Kevin a small black zipper-bag to store all his PGR awards and have them ready for future missions.

And that is helpful. Kevin benefits from those validations that reinforce the message that I give him: That holding a flag may be hard work, but that we do it because it makes other people feel better.

For me, validation comes from seeing familiar faces.

Glen DeVries was Ride Captain. He and Sue are among the reliables. He conducted a good briefing, complete with pledge and prayer.

Kevin listened, as always.

The guys who return again and again are the reliables. First-timers are not proven, by definition. But they may be among the future reliables so the Ride Captain typically gives first-timers special recognition. We applaud after he asks for a show of hands.

If there is one thing Kevin learned in pre-school, it is how to raise his hand. Glen asked, Kevin raised, we applauded. Then I pointed-out that it was not his first mission, it was his eighth. We applauded again.

We took our positions and I went down the line with my camera. After a minute, Glen called me to the front door where Kevin was standing. 2LT Maro Enok had gotten onto Kevin’s eye-level and was giving him more positive reinforcement.

Kevin would stand for a long time, holding his big flag – about a hundred hours in five-year-old time. Monday when I see him, the hard work will have been largely forgotten and I will remind him of the dog tags and the double applause and the Marine officer.

I took my own flag to a place near Kevin, though not next to him. At Watertown, Kevin had initiated several breaks, and it was heartening to see him always return when he decided his break was over. I had told him that today would be shorter – that all the sad people would arrive in a short period and that we would then all take a long break. Of course, the “short period” was still more than an hour.

People came and came and came. Eyes forward, I couldn’t really see Kevin. I could tell he was till there, but I couldn’t see any interaction between him and the mourners. Still, I was confident that he did his job well. I had nothing to do but stand and listen to the football players practice.

Then it was ten.

Ten o’clock and we could put away our flags for a while. I explained that we would hold flags again for just a minute when the people came back out to get into their cars, and that we would then go home for swimming. We looked at the motorcycles.

Just then, another PGRider of single-digit age rolled up.

His name was Ethan. They climbed a tree together.

Ethan’s daddy had ridden with the escort that brought Michael Wiltz from O’Hare to the funeral home two days ago. Today, Ethan and his daddy would ride 40 miles south to the cemetery as Kevin and I would ride 40 miles north to the swimming pool. But that would be later.

Watching Kevin, I was slow to notice that the football players had all taken a knee on their end line and their coach had crossed the street to talk to us. Glen filled him in.

The coach returned. They huddled. Then I heard, “’Marine’ on three! ONE! TWO! Three, MARINE!”

That is the way football players render a salute.

Then it was time to form-up again. Ethan, Kevin and the rest of us.

And then it was time to go. When Kevin’s mommy and I trade him, his parting greeting is “Love you, miss you.” expressed as one word.

Love-you-miss-you, Michael Wiltz.

Friday funeral pictures

back to ALL MISSIONS

Update, 12 years later:

Kevin & his mom moved to the Dallas area years ago. Here he is learning to drive and anticipating college.

Remember Jessica Lynch? She was the PFC who was captured in March, 2003. She was rescued by American Special Ops in April, 2003 thanks to intelligence provided by Mohammed Odeh al Rehaief who was promptly and correctly granted humanitarian asylum in our country.

What I remember from that is all the headlines that characterized Jessica as a victim. The stories said she joined our army only so she could get tuition assistance and become a kindergarten teacher. What nonsense!

It is true that our all-volunteer military offers pay and other inducements, but it disparages their virtue to calm that they are just in it for the money. Our volunteers know full-well that they are betting their life.

I offer, as Exhibit One, Kevin’s fellow tree-climber today:

His father Mark took Ethan to a soldier’s funeral to hold a flag in solemn salute to a fallen hero, and Mark is proud that Ethan has volunteered to serve. Ethan and his father Mark today:

And, while I commend to Kevin Ethan’s generally fine example, I must caution him with some grandfatherly advise: This is one of the most common ways to lose your chewing gum: