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Two columns composed of servicemembers and civilians working for the government face forward, awaiting the signal to begin marching toward the flight line where a fallen hero awaits his final ride home. A deep voice barks out the command “Forward March” and we begin the solemn trek to where we shall pay our final respects to one who has given the ultimate sacrifice for his country.
The file of individuals paying their respects breaks off into two formations, forming a pathway to the C-130 where our fallen comrade will be taken home to his family. I’m in the fourth row, but I can see everything. The faces of those around me are set in stone, yet their eyes betray their sorrow. Beads of sweat gather on my forehead and slowly roll down my face, but I don’t move a muscle. The call to bow our heads is given and I look down at my feet, listening as a strong female voice reminds all of us that although we may not understand why tragic events like this occur it’s our duty to remain strong.
At the conclusion of the prayer, we are commanded to “Order Arms.” I slowly raise my arm to salute the many sacrifices of one of our own and watch as those around me mirror the same motion. Although those gathered here may come from different branches, at this moment in time we are one. I turn 45 degrees as the coffin, lovingly draped with an American flag, passes by me on its way to boarding the airplane. The arid wind buffets angrily against those standing before the airplane and I know I’m not the only one bereaved by the loss of a fellow service member.
This is the second dignified transfer I have attended since my deployment to Afghanistan. It is an experience that both strengthens and humbles me. I cannot help but grieve for those back home who are awaiting the return of their beloved family member, but I am also reminded of the brotherhood military members share. It’s something that’s hard to explain to someone who has never served, but those who have experienced the fellowship of fighting for a common goal know it’s something to be treasured.
My first experience with honoring those killed in service to their country was back in January when six Marines were killed in a helicopter crash. I had only recently arrived here and it was a harsh introduction to the realities of war. My heart ached for the family members of those lost in the tragic accident.
I was 17 when I signed up to join the Army Reserve. In all honesty, I had no idea what I was getting myself into. I thought I knew all about the military, but it was the false imaginings of a youthful know it all. It took me leaving for basic training to realize just how much I prized home and family.
Ironically enough, the grim repercussions of war never really hit home until they affect you personally.
I’ve learned you only have this one life to live. We all know it, but it doesn’t ring true until we experience the loss of life first hand. There are no do-overs.
Therefore, you better live life to the fullest because it’s the only one you’ve got. I don’t think I’ll ever get used to death. We, as Americans, are typically sheltered from its cruel realities because of medical advancements and our society.
I know I was especially naive before joining the military. I mean, I’d read about death and seen it on television, but it had never affected me personally other than older relatives passing away. It’s typically a topic people shy away from and don’t enjoy discussing.
If anything, this deployment has definitely put death into perspective for me. I look forward to pursuing my goals and dreams when I get home. To live would be an awfully big adventure and I plan on enjoying life to the fullest.
There is no greater sacrifice than dying for your country. I know I’ll never forget the sacrifices of those who have given their lives for our freedom and I intend on teaching my children to never take life for granted because it’s a gift not to be taken lightly.
| Date Taken: | 04.12.2012 |
| Date Posted: | 04.12.2012 09:41 |
| Story ID: | 86613 |
| Location: | AF |
| Web Views: | 215 |
| Downloads: | 1 |
This work, Final ride home, by SPC Chelsea Russell, identified by DVIDS, must comply with the restrictions shown on https://www.dvidshub.net/about/copyright.
