Saturday, I was to watch Kevin. He had attended five missions with me before his fifth birthday, so I asked his mommy if he could stay with us overnight Friday. She authorized the trip and I set my alarm for 0300.

I should have gone to bed at midnight – then I would have gotten at least three hours of sleep. It seems that if I try to sleep earlier than usual, I never sleep at all. Anyway, Kevin and I were on the road by 0400.

We passed through Milwaukee at 0500 when it started raining. Kevin has been riding with me since he was two, but today we were in the car so I simply turned-up the defogger and he went to sleep. We made good time because we didn’t stop for breakfast.

I awakened him at 0730 in Shiocton. We had the convenience store version of an Egg McMuffin. I had coffee. He had a blue-colored drink called Bug Juice. We went to the high school.

So we were a little early. Doug and Don arrived at the same time.

They are not PGR (except in the “unregistered members” sense) but were there for the local American Legion. The Legion post had a large number of small one-square-foot flags they use on certain holidays to adorn the graves of veterans. They planned to merge with our flags to line the sidewalk in front of the high school, as you see below with a solitary PGR gentleman seated.

(He would rise from his chair and produce from his bike a small American Flag for Kevin to hold. It was the first of two given him this day. I was pleased that he led the PGR bikes in the funeral procession.)

Doug and Don are brothers. I was reminded that our fallen hero has a brother, a sister, both parents and all four grandparents here. There is a stability that supports a sense of community here. I have attended similar events in Chicago where the funeral is bounded by the edge of the funeral home parking lot. Here, the funeral extends all across town. Naturally, they use the high school auditorium. Naturally, they make an American flag with colored plastic cups at the entrance to the school, with the letters N-I-C spelled at the bottom.

And just as naturally, neighbors move into the high school cafeteria to prepare the related food. No, Kitsie is not about to smack Kevin. She had just assisted him in discerning the word that those three letters spell. (I had thoroughly briefed Kevin on who Nicholas Riehl was.) This is a high-five photographed a half-second after impact. (I also missed the low-five that would follow.) Kistie would later emerge from her work to award Kevin a second small flag to hold. Later, she would hear that Kevin was holding a large flag and she wanted to comment to him that the small flag had grown so big, but I explained that he had retired to the car.

Notice the rock in the background. Here is the other side of that rock.

“Those who have the courage will never be forgotten”. This is a promise made by the Class of 2002 a half-year after 9-11. Nic was Class of 2004, so he walked past this plaque every school day for two years. He was a leader on both the football and basketball teams, so he had some understanding of “courage” and, no doubt, the other six Army Values as well.

It is no accident that our culture sends our best to meet our enemies.

Our Ride Captain arrived in his vintage M*A*S*H ambulance. Technology is what makes PGR possible. Funerals require quick reaction. The PGR website is a clearinghouse for information that is controlled yet decentralized. As I write this, the membership count is 92,500. Try managing that using only telephones. But, from my observations over these last 14 months, there are only a few hundred people in each state who are regular participants and only a few dozen who have the skill set and the willingness to administer the system. Mike is one of them.

This is Mike with Doc, who would befriend Kevin.

This is Mike with John, State Captain.

This is Mike with Nate, new member.

The local PGR has good depth of leadership, but Mike was the human clearinghouse for this mission. When he asked me to offer a prayer, I couldn’t have been more honored. When he asked me to lead the cemetery detail to the cemetery (a place I had never seen) I couldn’t have been more determined to make all the turns correctly. (I had the LEOs describe the intersections where I would turn before we left and I had Kevin remain silent during the ride so I could concentrate on the route.) And when Mike found that I had all the bikes parked just where he wanted them and called me a “Pathfinder” – I couldn’t have felt more rewarded. Of course, it is not the words but rather the speaker. It is a pleasure to have this time among serious men.

For me, motivation comes from simply being able to help. Sure, “all honest work is honorable” but the PGR mission is sacred. The wind had wrapped some of the flags around their poles so Doc went down the line unfurling. A small thing, perhaps. Still.

We were welcoming Nic to his final resting place. We were also assuring his family that it is all right. We lined both sides of the path the hearse would follow, and the family. This is a view from the street.

Doc, Kevin and I extended one side out into the street so that the traffic would be funneled through our corridor of red, white and blue. Many of those attending the graveside service preceded the hearse-led procession. The cemetery was not fenced and there were four curb-cuts, so the pedestrian traffic would have looked up our corridor and not dared to violate it. They don’t realize that we want them to walk among us. They don’t realize that the flags are for them.

Sure, we wish to honor the dead, but we could do that from home. The reason we travel to hold flags is so the surviving family and friends can witness our gesture of respect. Personally, I believe that Nic is able to appreciate our efforts and so did John McHugh. John served in the 55^th Infantry Regiment, a part of the American Expeditionary Force. In the picture above, he is located near the left foreground.

Nic and John are at rest and this mission is done. Most of the 92,500 PGR members will never go on a single mission. But many of us will be ready for it, whatever it is. Like this nice couple whose images I have captured so many times that I feel I know them better than I do. This is their front side:

This is their back side:

And this is them on U.S. Highway 41 as I veer out of my lane:

God bless ‘em and all the others like ‘em.

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