Day Four:

Honorable people: PGRiders everywhere, and certainly our volunteer military. “A keen sense of ethical conduct” according to the dictionary. A PGRider is as likely to wear more “Mission Accomplished” tags than he has earned as a Special Forces soldier is to wear a ribbon he hasn’t earned.

That is: No chance.

In a world so full of cynicism, there are some organizations that celebrate personal honor. Firemen understand. The local fire departments brought their big flag.

Perry and Canton Townships collaborated, just as they would were they fighting a common enemy.

The traffic on Whipple in front of the Canton Baptist Temple would pass under Old Glory. Firemen wear a flag patch on their uniform. Same as cops.

Then the organization that bleeds red, white & blue arrived.

They backed into a spot that would allow them to be the first to the cemetery: a space near Whipple, aimed at the parking lot exit.

The wind made the big flag a dominating roof. The soldiers stood under it. We, fifty feet from the soldiers, stood below its glory too.

SFC Cira sees an opportunity. He thinks it through carefully.

Then, under the shelter of the flag blowing in the wind, he leads his troops across the fifty feet.

We wouldn’t go to them. We would assume they are preoccupied with their high-profile duty. We wouldn’t presume to prevail on them.

Which is what made it so cool when they came to us.

Soldiers. Airborne. Special Forces. Men of ethical conduct.

By walking those fifty feet they honored us.

It was thrilling in a way the slackers and the cynics could never understand.

The sergeant has his yellow chevrons. We have our yellow armbands.

For a minute or two, under the fire department’s grand flag, the protectors crossed the fifty feet and reassured the protected.

And just when I was thinking we could not be off to a better start, it got better. Sandy returned.

The deputy, the soldiers, the fire departments: all understand honor and so understand each other.

I’ll probably never see these fine people again – a sad thought.

Then came time. Ralph started the day’s mission with a briefing that included the way he would have us salute. I still prefer this way, but I was glad to see the Ride Captain set a standard.

And then we took our places in our effort to honor one of these two great soldiers. Kevin Grieco and Nick Casey were in that police station because they were soldiers. They weren’t sitting on the sidelines, nor were they looking for shortcuts nor quitting work early. They were heroes. They risked death because they embody honor. The cowards, the shirkers and the cynics are alive and well because they never would never volunteer for our military.

Take a look at the SFC’s left arm. (It looks the same as that of the Special Forces Commanding General, who would also be with us today.) First he volunteered for our army. Then he volunteered for Airborne training. Then he volunteered for Ranger training. Then he volunteered for Special Forces training. And at each of those four steps, volunteering is not enough. They take you only if you can measure-up to high standards. I know they are high because many people fail at each of those four steps.

The people in our military deserve to be honored. The ones who die in service must be honored.

When I asked this Blue Star dad for these photos, I learned that he has those same insights and feels the same way.

He knows that only our very best citizens are given the opportunity to die for their country.

This is Mike. He didn’t know about the funeral, but he is a Marine and he was driving through the intersection of Whipple and Tusc when he saw a picketer dragging the American flag and holding a sign that read, “Thank God for Dead Soldiers”. He pulled his truck into the Fishers lot and got out to express a few thoughts.

He never approached the picketers within a threatening distance and he never cursed. He did, however, have a lot to say and it is fair to describe his tone as firm and his presentation as that of conviction. If you care to see the display that motivated this Canton resident, look here.

I met Lieutenant Colonel Miller the previous day, during the visitation. Within minutes I was telling him my deepest thoughts. He is a compelling leader.

Then the General’s CSM went down our line. You can see in Ralph’s face how significant that moment was. CSM Rollins made the greeting with both hands. This is not a Fourth of July parade or a Little League game. These two men of honor reaffirmed each other at a soldier’s funeral.

Then came the General.

To get these photos I was dancing up the flagline just ahead of General Repass. He must have been the subject of cameras many times before and he knew to ignore me. One at a time, he looked a PGRider in the eye and offered the most valuable thing he has: His hand in friendship and respect.

So when he ran out of PGRiders he turned to back toward the door leaving me behind. And that is quite right. But I called, “General, I’m Don Russ.”

He pivoted in an instant and said, “Mike Repass. Glad to see you here.”

It is just a simple fact: I have never met a Brigadier I didn’t instantly like.

Michael S. Repass became Commanding General of the United States Army Special Forces Command 146 days before I met him. Before that he was Deputy Commander of Special Operations Command Europe. Before that he had two combat tours as Commander of the Combined Joint Special Operations Task Force during Operation Iraqi Freedom. Before that he was assigned to U.S. Special Operations Command as the Chief, Ground Branch, Special Actions Division. And on and on.

Of course it’s an honor to be talking with him. It’s an honor to be standing in the same parking lot with him.

I told him that John (SSG John O. Langdon, CivAff) is going for selection after his next deployment. General Repass responded, “It will take us about a year and a half to put him through that school. I’ll be standing on the stage when he graduates. You’ll be there too, won’t you?”

From 16 Romans:

17I urge you, brothers, to watch out for those who cause divisions and put obstacles in your way that are contrary to the teaching you have learned. Keep away from them. 18For such people are not serving our Lord Christ, but their own appetites.

The gentleman who arrived by bicycle intended to confront our friends from Westboro with that admonition. Sadly, they had left before he could administer the Bible lesson to them. So he joined the others who were gathering along Whipple, across from the church.

There were many people who traveled to the Canton Baptist Temple but did not go inside. Instead, for their own reasons, they chose to stand outside in the cold wind holding their flags. (Remind you of anyone?) Some brought their children. Some came alone. I went down their rank to record these good people. See them here.

The people across the street and we in the parking lot waited. There may be eulogies – you never know how long a funeral service will take. I had visited Canton for my uncle’s funeral last summer. I tried to eulogize him. That was probably a mistake.

My mom had four brothers – one older and three younger. All four were in the service for WWII. Her older brother was killed in the northern Pacific.

Their father, Wilfred S. Janson of Canton, Ohio served in WWI. A farm boy, they had him tend the horses. To calm them during artillery exchanges, he would put bags over the horse’s heads and sing to them. Soldiers do whatever has to be done.

Sometimes they must sing. Sometimes they must risk exposure to suicide bombers.

And then we lined-up again, this time facing the door of the church.

We stood at attention. As Nick was carried from the church to the hearse we rendered a small honor. Flag bearers saluted as Ralph had instructed us. Veterans and others in uniform saluted with index finger to the eyebrow. The rest of us issued the civilian salute – right hand over the heart.

Then we left for the cemetery. This honorable warrior would be saluted again and again along the entire route by his many neighbors who were waiting for the hearse to roll past. First in the procession were the police on bikes and then two squads. Then the Patriot Guard Riders with flags flying. Then the PGR cages of which I was third. I tried to document the tribute of the many along the route, but I only captured a fraction and the technical quality is poor. They are here.

And then the cemetery. I generally don’t use the camera at the cemetery – there are opportunities but the circumstances are too private. This time, I made an effort to identify the individual soldiers who were designated to offer official honor to Nick Casey. In the photo below are the General, the Colonel, the General’s CSM, the Colonel’s CSM and Captain Scot McCosh, Chaplain, Officiant.

There were two army details. One provided the pallbearers who the folded the casket flag. The other provided the firing squad. The army also provided a flyover by a giant Chinook helicopter. Those photos are here.

A fellow PGRider sent me his perception of those events. Jim Stanitz writes:

Sgt. Casey was interred in a block of the cemetery reserved for military. The location is in a grove of very large fir trees, and the wind was sighing through the firs as though a lamento. PGR was formed up on a crest above the road along the gravesite. From my position, the catafalque was at 1000 and the rifle squad and bugler at 1400. We could clearly hear the words of the Army chaplain above the sound of a child crying - perhaps one of Sgt. Casey's sons. The reading was from Romans, "If the Lord is with us, whom shall we fear?"

Just about then, a CH-47 Chinook helicopter from the Ohio Army Natl Guard at the Akron-Canton Airport did a low flyover, directly over the gravesite. The riflemen fired their salute and we could smell the cordite. Then, the bugler blew Taps. As the crowd broke up, Sgt. Casey's wife Rachel remained by the casket, unable to pull herself away. She finally walked towards the limo, then turned around and went back again for a last goodbye. Family members, including Sgt. Casey's mother holding the burial flag, came down the flagline thanking each and every one of us; an Army brigadier general and numerous Special Forces troopers also did the same. Our ride captain kept us on the flagline until the limos with family had departed.

And then we too departed, having honored Nick the best we could.

I had to head straight back – my Cub Scout den was to meet me at noon the next day near the flagpole in front of their school so we could practice our Veterans Day Flag Ceremony. But I just didn’t feel like racing up the Interstate. So, instead of going north to Cleveland and then west to Chicago, I went northwest to Medina.

The town is arranged around a square, like many Midwest towns. The U.S. Army Company has an inviting storefront on the square.

The door was locked. The only person in view was Corporal Hollingsworth.

So I just had lunch at the opposite end of the square, at Eli’s.

Another ten miles to the northwest and I found the Beldon Honor Roll. There’s that word again…Honor.

Three soldiers, two sailors and an airman: Tiny Beldon has offered six brave men to serve in our post-9/11 military. Of course it is a “Roll of Honor”.

I went west on Ohio 303 just a few miles and found a house with a United States Army flag. I stopped on the shoulder at the end of the driveway to get a picture. In fact, I would take a few so that I would have one where the wind opens the flag.

This will be like one of those compare-the-pictures games. Apart from the affect of the wind on the flags, what is the difference between the photo directly above and the one directly below?

Answer: The second garage door is going up.

This guy wanted to throw some garbage into his can. His house is located amid farm fields. At this time a year the fields are empty and is surrounded by wide open spaces. And,today, a guy standing at the end of his driveway taking pictures of him.

It turns out that the flag is to honor his nephew.

On to LaGrange. Flags and a monolith with a single word.

I got my USA flag photo.

Then I checked the back side of the monolith to see if the power of its message were diluted with other words. Nope.

If you don’t know “honor” then go find a dictionary, but don’t ask a veteran. It can’t be explained.

Nick Casey photo albums: One

Two

Three

Four

Five

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