Thursday.

We arrived.

This funeral would take place on the eve of the Bowman and Nurnberg funerals. Both were only an hour or two distant and each PGRider would have to choose. Greg Bowman was a PGR Senior Ride Captain for northern Illinois. He was well known and loved. Simultaneously, Corporal Nurnberg “who died of wounds suffered when insurgents attacked his unit during combat operations” would compete for our attention.

At the end of our briefing, Scoot asked me to speak a prayer. It included the request, “Clear our minds and focus our hearts on the only task that matters this morning: The honoring and protection of Randol Shelton.”

As our meeting ended, Major General Robert M. Radin came over to our group. He runs the Army Sustainment Command that provides front-line logistics support to combat units. That I what he does most days. Today, however, this Ranger would speak to us in a soft voice and then go inside the church to bow down before God and Private Randol S. Shelton.

We formed-up. The hearse arrived and Randol was taken inside. The grieving family and the other mourners followed Randol in.

Channel Seven’s Judy Hsu posted video to the station’s website.

Channel 5 posted video and channel 32 posted video too.

Others were watching. At every PGR mission, there are people who are not directly involved but stop to watch anyway. Perhaps they know they are watching a soldier’s funeral – perhaps they do not even know that it is a funeral. Sometimes when we ride in procession with our colorful flags displayed, the uninformed assume it is a happy parade and they honk or wave. There is an instinct reflex to honk or wave back, but our discipline usually wins-out and we roll past stony-faced, eyes forward.

There was no mistaking our solemn formation on the steps of Saint Gertrude Church this morning. The fellow below had seen this church before. He had seen the American flag before. And he had seen “aging, hell-bound ruffians” before. He stopped to watch anyway.

Once they were all inside, we had our standing-around time. Then the advance party left for the cemetery.

This gentleman has been one of us for many months while his son, a Marine, was in Afghanistan. His son came safely home on the Fourth of July, two months ago.

Two other Marines. Had things been slightly different, his funeral might have been for either of them and you might think they would stay away.

Nope. They dressed-up and attended.

We were standing again on the steps of the church as the casket and the rest passed between us and on to their cars. Then we rolled our flags quickly and mounted. Commander Morgan and I lead two columns of bikes that were leading the hearse, the family and then the rest.

At the cemetery gate, the advance party was standing with flags. Mount Emblem Cemetery has a lane that runs just inside its perimeter. Think of that lane as the tickmarks around a clock face: The gate was at 2 o’clock and the gravesite was at 5 o’clock. The two columns of bikes entered and turned left to travel the short distance clockwise from 2:00 to 5:00 (2-3-4-5) and parked. The hearse turned right to lead the rest of the procession the longer distance counter-clockwise fro 2:00 to 5:00 (2-1-12-11-10-9-8-7-6-5) and park. By the time the family and other guests arrived, we were in place.

So, because we led the procession and took the short route through the cemetery, our formation was the last thing the family saw as they left the church and the first thing they saw as they approached the gravesite.

Knowing I would be standing at attention I had no camera. I wished I had when a tree-top flight of geese crossed our formation. I guess they thought this property belongs to them. Then another flight crossed at lower-that-tree-top.

And then our formation was touched by the shadow of a jet leaving O’Hare.

We are usually beyond hearing range of the service but I usually hear the rifles being cocked and I know to cover my ears. This time they were far enough distant that the first volley was fired before I was prepared – but they were far enough distant that they were not as loud for me as some others have been.

Then, “Present Arms!”

Then, Taps.

Photos of the Thursday funeral are organized in two albums: One and Two.