“Beware the ides of March” Julius Caesar was warned. And yet on that day, the 15^th of March, he was assassinated. That was 44 B.C.

2053 years later, again on the ides if March, three more great soldiers fell: Norman Cain, Christopher Abeyta and Robert Weinger. They all drilled together at the Woodstock Illinois Armory where they were members of Delta Company, 1^st Battalion, 178^th Infantry Regiment.

Luke Saczek was also a member of Company D. He trained with Norman, Christopher and Robert at Woodstock. He traveled with them to Afghanistan.

Ides of March plus 2 weeks: Luke and Kathryn Saczek have their first baby.

Ides of March plus 8 weeks: Specialist Lukasz D. Saczek dies in Afghanistan.

Ides of March plus 8 weeks and 2 days: Luke arrives at Dover:

http://www.zimbio.com/pictures/eX45-Y6JKbN/Bodies+Two+Army+Soldiers+Killed+Iraq+Return/2oBnudkDF04/Lukasz+Saczek

The 55 soldiers of Delta Company left the Woodstock Armory on August 24^th last summer. 51 of them continue their dangerous mission near the Khyber Pass. It took nothing less than death to stop the other four.

Afghanistan would be an easy fight if it were just about killing the enemy. We have the technology to go about that with very little risk to our soldiers. But that is no way to fight an insurgency. Afghanistan is a hearts-and-minds war. It is not enough for our soldiers to be heroes in our eyes – they must be heroes in the eyes of the Afghans.

War is hard on soldiers. Hired assassins with ice water in their veins would probably be effective in the field but they would never find a job in our army. We want our soldiers to be moral people. We want them to respect their comrades, the civilians and even the enemy. We want them to be able to pull the trigger and also be able to resist pulling the trigger. We want them to love all life. Luke was a good soldier and war is hard on soldiers, especially the good ones.

On Monday, four days from now, eight days after his death, he will be laid in peace among the other heroes of AHNC. I pray that Emily, his small daughter, with whom his life overlapped by only six weeks, will one day celebrate her father’s contribution to civility and justice in this world and believe that his service was worthy of his sacrifice.

Friday, three days before Luke’s funeral: Still no word. The Saczek forum remains on the Watch List. Kevin and I leave for a Pack 42 campout.

Sunday, the day before: We return. It was good.

…and I discover that the Saczek mission is a short-notice go. In fact, I learn that the airport escort has already happened and the visitation begins two hours from my reading the email go. And its location is an hour away. I’ll catch-up on my sleep tomorrow night.

I go to the church on my way to the funeral home. Saint Stanislaus Bishop and Martyr Catholic Church is a beautiful structure built in 1914. It is named for a Polish priest who lived a thousand years ago.

But that is for the funeral tomorrow. Today I reported to the funeral home for display-of-honor-and-respect duty. So did seven others.

Other commitments will not allow me to make the trip to ALNC. I was asked to escort from the funeral home to the church, however. Tonight I must mount the mast on the bike and get the 5-by-8 ready. Tomorrow, Luke and I go to St. Stanislaus together.

Monday, at the funeral home:

Volume 2 of HOG magazine just came. (Harley Owners’ Group) They just acquired this beauty for the Harley-Davidson museum.

It’s a ’41 WLD in very good condition. Homer Van Sandt bought it for $400 and gave it to his son Wallace just after he graduated from high school and just before he joined the Army Air Corps. Wallace put 19,088 behind his red bike before he left for war as a B-17 tailgunner.

Sometimes, things go wrong. On April 3, 1944 his parents got this telegram.

The bike stayed in the family until it went to the museum, still with 19,088 miles on it.

The telegram informed the family in 44 words. 417,000 American warriors were killed in that war, so a telegram of 44 words was all we could do at the time. We do more now.

Governor Quinn would address the Luke’s family and their guests in the St. Stanislaus sanctuary. He has been consistent as Governor, and before that as Lieutenant Governor, attending the funerals of Illinois warriors.

This is Major General Celletti. He attended all the funerals for the three Ides of March deaths of Company D. He attended the visitation for Luke yesterday for three hours. Today he would stand with Colonel Haerr and other soldiers and we PGRiders for another Company D funeral.

A gentleman from the funeral home was picking-up litter from the parking lot where the mourners would stage for the 7 mile trip to the church. He and five PGRiders were the only ones waiting at 0730 when General Celletti arrived. He came right over to us.

During WWII when hundreds of American warriors died (on average) each day, that reality that reality dominated the thoughts of general officers. Now, with less than one per day, it still dominates.

The general’s aide wore the new army blues.

I think the blues speak better than the greens to the gravity of the soldier’s profession.

The funeral director’s son arrived home yesterday for a visit. Tony. A good Marine officer on leave doesn’t miss a chance to honor a soldier at his funeral.

But sometimes things go wrong. Rogene went down and had difficulty getting back up.

She stepped wrong and twisted her ankle. A fluke. Most of us would just go home, but not Ro. When Irish asked if she wanted an anti-inflammatory she said that she had taken four that morning for her back. (Make that, “Most of us would not have left home.”) She would soldier on.

Ro led our 6-bike escort which led the hearse to the church where dozens of other PGRiders were waiting. Confirming details for the 41 mile escort to the cemetery, she was in obvious distress.

Matt got her off her feet.

Tony meets Don, retired after 23 years a Marine. Don is a PGRider and Luke’s neighbor.

The pallbearers carried Luke into the church where the casket flag was replaced with a white pall for the funeral liturgy. The pallbearers brought the casket flag back outside.

The soldier in the blues wanted to practice folding the casket flag. Everyone in the detail readily focused on this task. SPC Ciesla instructed and then drilled the others. Here, he and SPC Miller, two hand-picked for this duty by the Company Commander, demonstrate. Then, while the family sat in the church, the army detail unfolded and refolded the flag, again and again.

Because sometimes, things can go wrong.

When the American military receives one of America’s sons, it will use him and then return him home. But war is hard on soldiers. Sometimes things go wrong and only a folded flag is returned. So the army detail practiced folding the whole time.

Because I was not going to make the trip to the cemetery, I planned to find a location where the procession would pass and get photos of the many glistening bikes in the bright sun. Then as the hearse approached I would lower my camera and raise my salute. And then I would leave.

So I confirmed the procession route and waited with these neighbors while the Catholics prayed and the soldiers folded.

When I hear that Governor Quinn was giving a eulogy I knew it was time to head west on Fullerton to find a place with a clear view eastward and the sun behind me. I parked the bike so the flag would blow into the street and stood on a bus stop bench to watch. Stanley crossed Fullerton to join me.

Like many people, Stanley was glad for a chance to honor Luke. When I saw the bikes coming we moved into the street and I tried a shot.

Nothing. The battery had served at the Cub Scout campout, the funeral home and the church. It was spent. I had another in the saddle bag, but I had no time. The ride captains, the funeral director and the army detail had prepared better than I. The photo of Stanley was the last I would take this day.

I wasted some effort with my camera as the bikes passed and then we straighten-up and raised our right arms. The hearse passed. Then the first car following the hearse, driven by Luke’s father came to us. His forearm was in his window. He glanced at us. He made a gesture of acknowledgement with his wrist.

It was a beautiful day and the procession photos would have been good, but at least Stanley and I were able to serve our higher purpose. Sometimes things go wrong, but everyone in the procession was well aware of that.

funeral photos

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