Curtis
and his family would travel with a small PGR escort and a police escort. The rest of us would travel as a group ten
minutes ahead of them.
I
left a few minutes ahead of the big group.
County
Road 7 allowed me quick off and on. I
got photos of the passing group and then hustled to catch them.
The
next bridge, County Road 32, was occupied by a Marine. His wife was occupied with his youngest. His older one occupied the driver’s seat.
46
miles later, we passed through
One
more uniform. “I promise, to do my best,
to do my duty to God and my country…”
The
whole town was out along our route.
We
reached the final resting place for Curtis.
This gentleman said that he began weep with pride as bike after bike
tuned into the cemetery. He invited us
to the Legion Hall. He said that is was
so great to see all of y’all.
It
was a sentiment that our Ride Captain would also experience. Craig rode with the escort. As the cemetery came into view and he saw us
all standing, waiting, he was overcome.
Good. That’s the way it should be.
We
parked, assembled our flags and walked to our places.
The
first glimpse of the casket in the door of the plane, the commiseration during
the wake, the funeral eulogies each has its own bitter taste. But it is the finality of the religious and
military ritual at the cemetery that is the most somber part of KIA missions.
We
had seen it before. We knew what was
coming. We were laden with melancholy
anticipation.
I
photographed the trumpeter before the procession arrived and I am so glad I
did. She was wonderful. She played Taps perfectly and very, very slowly.
We
formed a square, 150 feet on each side.
I couldn’t see much, but our job was to be seen. I saw three things.
At
one point, a dove flew up from the gravesite, turned through a broad arc and
sailed away.
The
Lance Corporal at the end of the firing line found spent cartridges in the
grass. He handed them to the Sergeant
who delivered them to the flag-folders.
Two
eagles. Again.
We
stood in our square as the guests left.
We stood in our square as the family left. Then we stood in our square more.
Then
Craig called us over. The Staff Sergeant
said to us, “You are serving your country right now.”
That
alone was worth the trip.
I
didn’t want to say good-bye to anyone.
These things make me happy and sad at the same time. I wanted to think. I just slipped away from the group and headed
south down Route 76.
Kathy
was Air Force. We both got gas in
We
all will die. Most of us will die
meaninglessly. A heart attack or a
traffic accident.
Six
miles into
I
have dropped the bike once with Robin riding.
It happened during a left turn when the crown of the road slopped downward
to the outside. The crash bar touched
down and the tires lifted up. I got a
skinned elbow and Robin got a skinned knee.
It
was all my fault, so I got only what I had coming. But the only thing Robin did wrong was to
trust me. I still feel sick about it.
The
man was on his feet by the time I got my camera out. The woman never stood. Each was driven away in an ambulance.
I
continued down Route 76 to Effigy Mounds where it follows the
When
I got to
That’s
where I crossed. Still the wrong state
but at least the right side of the river.
Friday:
Arrival at
Flagline portraits
Visitation at
Saturday:
Funeral at
Flagline portraits
Cemetery at Houston
Lutheran Church
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to Swenson Mission
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