Confident, proud American soldier:

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Kevin and I attended for only a short time Tuesday but long enough for me to meet David’s friend, Adam Shuga.  David and Adam and most of the guys who get hurt have something in common:  They have made very great effort to put themselves in a position where they might be hurt.  And they all do not make that effort because they are competitive or adventurous – they all put themselves at risk because they are all True Believers.

 

Sure, they are competitive and adventurous.  Athletic and intelligent too.  But mainly, they are motivated by a sense of service to a worthy goal.  Young men like Adam and David believe some things are worth fighting for and they are willing to accept the risk.  They don’t want to die but more than that, they want their lives, however short, to make a difference.  David has managed to place himself in the history books.  The choices he made were courageous and his life, heroic.  This magnet refers to David.

 

 

That same bike had a patch taped to the gas tank.

 

 

Closer inspection revealed the how-to-get-there’s.

 

 

Kelvin is a scale use for measuring temperature.  Kevin is a scale used for measuring corn.  The corn immediately north of the funeral home was 2.5 Kevins high.

 

 

The visitation on Tuesday was a time for standing with flags in the sun, smiling and waiting.  There was no procession or ceremony to impose a somber mood.  I had given Kevin photos of David for the PGRiders to clip to their vests or bikes and he was happy to have that job.

 

For the family, it is a time to adjust to the new reality and prepare themselves for the funeral the next day.  When Kevin was running cheerfully through the parking lot, I reminded him that some people are very sad and that we should not be too happy.

 

Adam had some trouble as a younger man.  He started Marine basic training, but when his paperwork caught up with him they kicked him out.  He got a job as a firefighter and is petitioning Governor Blagojevich to change the records for him.  He told me that he thinks he will be able to join the Illinois National Guard and from there be able to transfer into the regular army.  His actions measure his character.  Maybe Adam will be among the casualties one day.  Adam has bigger things on his mind.

 

Adam saw Kevin looking at the ground while returning a salute.  Adam decided to teach Kevin how to salute properly and Kevin was glad to have the instruction.  After we returned home, my wife gave Kevin a salute.  “No, Ma, you’re doing it wrong….”

 

~~~

 

Wednesday was the funeral.  The army carried David into the church hours before the rest of us arrived.  We would stand in a flagline before the service and again after the service.  We would ride to the cemetery and stand in a flagline there.

 

Adam would eulogize his friend David during the service.  He was sincere and eloquent and then he returned to his seat.  Fortunately I was in the rear of the sanctuary at the time and had a chance to give him a “well done”.  He said nothing.

 

Earlier, I had handed-off my flag to him so I could take pictures.  Here he is before the service, standing tall in our flagline.

 

 

The day after David’s funeral another young American from northern Illinois would die in the mountains of Afghanistan.  According to channel 7:

 

After two tours and three Purple Hearts in Iraq, Lance Corporal Tony Mihalo could have spent his last seven months of Marine duty stateside, but he chose to go where he felt he was most needed.

 

"He had volunteered for Afghanistan because they had a battalion requesting that was short on combat veterans. So he and about 40 other people, who had been in Iraq, said ok, we will take care of the people who don't know what it was like," said Bill Wolfe, Mihalo's father.

 

 

 

Tony, Adam, David.  No mother wants her son in danger.  It is true that if all soldiers laid down their arms, there would be no war.

 

 

But it is also true that disarming only one side give the other side some significant advantage.  If the good guys unilaterally disarm, the bad guys run the world.

 

We did not provoke the attacks on us September 11, 2001.

 

Nor the al Qaeda bombing of Kenya and Tanazania embassies in 1998.

 

Nor the Hezbollah bombing of the Khobar Towers in 1996.

 

Nor the first World Trade Center attack by al Qaeda in 1993.

 

Nor the Libyan bombing of the Pan-Am jet over Lockerbie, Scotland in 1988.

 

Nor the bombing of the Beirut Marine barracks by Hezbollah in 1983.

 

Nor the Iranian hostage seizure at our embassy in Tehran in 1979.

 

 

 

All those mothers who did not send their sons to war owe a great debt to the mothers who did.  And we are all fortunate that the new generations of Americans have the pride and courage to stand up for their country, their culture and their civilization and do “the first work”.

 

Kevin did not return for the David’s funeral, but another David did.  The one pictured next is from a Cleveland suburb.  He was in town visiting his grandparents.  The three of them spent the day at a soldier’s funeral.  Little David got a lesson in patriotic sacrifice from Hero David.

 

 

Yes, our enemy has courage.  Like the Kamikaze pilots of World War II, our terrorist foe learned from a very young age to rationalize his suicidal hatred.  Boys the age of little David and Kevin attend madrasahs and emerge a kooky as our friends at Westboro Baptist Church.  So really, they are just like us, right?

 

 

That is the fallacy of “moral equivalence”:  Our boys go to school and their boys go to school, and therefore there is no difference between them.

 

That is so wrong!  There is a world of difference between teaching hatred and teaching respect.  It is no virtue to pretend otherwise.

 

 

The only reason the rest of us can live peaceful lives is because a very few of us – just those who are good enough – go out into the world to face evil.  They are confident enough to make the moral judgment and strong enough to do the work.

 

The fact that they volunteer does not lessen our debt to them.

 

 

Hero David was one who had both the moral vision and the strength.  He enlisted contemplating a single hitch and then returning to his family having served his country.  His service required him to die but before he did, he sent a lovely poem to his mother.

 

It was printed and distributed at his funeral.

 

 

That is why we gathered for this fine soldier and for his mother.  We wanted to honor him and thereby honor her.  He made the greatest sacrifice a soldier can make, and she made the greatest sacrifice a mother can make.

 

 

That is the big picture.  We were there to focus on the heroic sacrifice that this family made for the benefit of the rest of us.  Debbie Crudele has a good focus on the big picture.

 

 

I really don’t want the Ride Captain to be concerned with my safety or comfort.  Those things are not relevant to the mission.  It is so easy to lose the big picture.  The necessity of bottled water is for hydration – if the flag-holder collapses, the flag hits the ground.  A little water at the right time and place facilitates our mission of respect and honor.

 

But a Ride Captain can get all wrapped-up in water service:  If water is good, then what about flavored drinks?  The next thing you know, a golf cart is patrolling up and down the flagline.  The two worst-run missions I have experienced (Upland and Nappanee) were managed by Ride Captains who thought they were hosting a party.  The guys holding flags always know why they are there and it’s not for a party.

 

 

At COL Ames’ Change-of-Command ceremony, several platoons of Marines in dress uniforms were to stand in the great heat of the day.  I heard one of the sergeants say, “If you go down, go down hard.  I will pick you up later.”

 

He was saying that he didn’t want anyone to fall out from the heat.  The only excuse he would accept for leaving the formation was unconsciousness.  The safety and comfort of his Marines was only incidental to his mission.

 

I don’t think Debbie had any fun at all.  I hope she had a sense of satisfaction after it was over, but throughout the two days her sole focus was respect and honor for the soldier and his mother.

 

 

The mother didn’t want media so Debbie embraced that as part of her mission.  Here, she and an adjutant chase away a television reporter.

 

 

Her seriousness of purpose made us all stand a little taller.

 

 

Having received instruction on how to shield the casket and family as they leave the church from any last-second media, we formed a ring around the church entrance.  There were a few neighbors waiting across the street.  We gave two of them flags.  Bill walked his back across and joined our flagline.

 

And thus Bill changed from PGRider at heart into PGRider de facto.

 

 

And this young woman did her part too.  David would never know how many people appreciate, respect and admire him.

 

 

I met David’s mother at the beginning of the visitation on Tuesday.  I made my usual record of the PGR that day and drove with Kevin back home.  Wednesday, when I returned on the bike, she requested a more personal record.  Inside the church, I got images of the Rear Detachment Commander eulogizing David and of Adam eulogizing David.

 

Usually, I find little opportunity for photography at the cemetery.  Most of the important images would contain the casket, the family or the mourners – so I just hold a flag.  This time, I would do more.

 

Since media had been discouraged I felt an extra weight of responsibility.  I got many good photographs of the casket being carried by the Honor Guard with the Patriot Guard standing and saluting in the background.  I got the flag-folding and presentation.  I deemed those images and the eulogies to be private and have sent them to the funeral home for delivery to David’s mother.

 

All that said to say that public images at the cemetery were more feasible for this mission.  After the three rifle volleys and Taps, there was a fly-over:

 

 

Oscar Blomgren deserves great credit for organizing this private tribute.  He recruited the pilot-owners who circled the cornfields until the timing was right.  Then they roared through the rain.

 

The United States Army did a great job too – crisp and squared-away.   The gentleman on the right below said a very nice thing to me in the church:  Referring to the PGR, he said that when he must send a KIA soldier back home, he knows he doesn’t have to worry about the soldier’s care.

 

 

CSM Blake has sent more than a few – 49, I think he said.  He holds a high rank:  Think of Sam Elliott in We Were Soldiers.  Elliott was a Sergeant Major but Blake is a Command Sergeant Major.  Not much room for promotion – next rank is Sergeant Major of the Army and there is only one of those.

 

Bikers have little use for rain.  If it doesn’t make you crash it at least makes you wet.  The sole exception is a soft summer rain.  On days when the sun is blistering, a gentle shower can be pleasant.

 

But that’s bikers.  I don’t think the rain was welcomed by David’s family, seated in front of his casket.  Those are the circumstances that resulted in the best image I got that day, though it is among the private ones.  In it, CSM Blake stands, right arm parallel to the ground, elbow locked.  In the fist of this high-ranking, powerful man is the handle of the umbrella that shields David’s mother.

 

 

Major General is a bit of rank, too.  Think of Patton pushing the Germans back into Germany.  Plus, Major General Radin is a Ranger.

 

 

The Ranger salutes David’s casket flag and takes it.  Then SFC Carlson salutes the flag and retires.

 

 

And then, the Ranger turns to David’s mother to present her with this symbol of the values for which her son died.

 

 

From my front-row seat I had a chance to watch General Radin closely.  First he knelt.  Then he offered the flag, one hand on top and one underneath.

 

The recipient naturally places hands above and below, likewise.  The General moves his top hand above the recipients top hand and traps it against the flag.  With the recipient seated and the General kneeling, they are eye-to-eye.  And with all four hands on the flag, it is suspended in space as the moment is suspended in time.

 

The General then, very softly, says a few private words.

 

The words are probably standardized, just as the flag is mere colored fabric.  The important thing is that he is saying them.  In this circumstance.  To her.  He is more than a Ranger; more than a General.  He is the representative of the forces of Western Civilization that has drawn so heavily on her family for a great purpose.

 

There are others who will offer sympathy; that is not his object.  He is offering gratitude.  A soldier has died, but not because he made a mistake.  Not because anyone made a mistake.  In a sense, he was supposed to die.  When we send these guys into war, we know some will fall.  We don’t know which ones, but some and for sure.  That’s why it was soldiers we sent.  When they make it safer, the forces of civilization will send the police or the lawyers or the psychologists.  But the most terrible work – the first work – must be done by soldiers.  Let us all be grateful.

 

And with that, Major General Radin offered David’s mother an American flag, neatly folded.  Directly behind the General was the casket that echoes “Freedom is not Free”.  To the left were the assembled mourners, dressed in dark clothes, standing silently.  And to the right, standing in a straight line facing the family, a background for the flag ceremonies, were we.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Photography for the David John Badie funeral mission:

 

        Tuesday

        Wednesday, pre-service

        Wednesday, Post-service & cemetery

 

 

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