Saying Goodbye in Brookfield...

Saturday morning was beautiful. A little cool, sunny, with a slight breeze. I left my house at eight a.m. to make sure I was there early. It was a great day for a motorcycle ride, but this wasn't an ordinary ride.

I was going to help bid farewell to a Hero.

Jason Dale Lewis' funeral was Saturday morning in the town I grew up in. It was the first ride I was able to make with the PGR since joining, due to my work schedule. This one I had decided to be there for, no matter what.

When I arrived, the parking lot was already busy. Among those there, there were police, Navy pall bearers, and a pair that made my throat catch - a Marine with a riderless horse.

I was directed to where the Patriot Guard Riders were gathering, with a "thank you for coming."

When I arrived, an hour before the scheduled meeting time, there were already a few Riders there. I got help to rig my flag to the back of my motorcycle (duct tape and zip ties work wonders), and watched as the parking lot began to fill.

The final count was more than seventy motorcycles.

The bikes to my left - two rows deep.

The bikes to my right, also two rows deep.

As we waited there, people began to wander over, one or two at a time, to look at the motorcycles, and to talk to us. Some were Jason's family. His aunt stopped by, stopping to thank us for being there. I was stunned by that, and by several other thank yous we got that day. To be thanked by a Fallen Hero's family was humbling. After what Jason and his family had given, riding down didn't really seem like something worthy of thanks. It seemed to be so miniscule, and yet here they were, telling us how much it meant to have us there. Simply unbelievable.

The PGR takes their missions very seriously. Before heading over to form the flag line, we were briefed on what was going to take place, and on the conduct expected of us during the day.

As we got closer to the service, we were ordered to form a flag line outside the church. Several people came out to speak with us, including one governmental figure who shook hands with the entire flag line, thanking us for coming. I have to say, I thought that was pretty classy.

Some saw all the flags and cried, telling us how beautiful they looked. A man in a wheelchair saluted as he went by - I was told it was Jason's grandfather.

And then the Navy pallbearers stopped by to say thank you. It was another jaw-dropper for me.

Standing there, watching people file in, amid a line comprised largely of veterans, I was overwhelmed by the magnitude of what I was doing. I watched the Navy pallbearers as they moved around the parking lot, and in and out of the church. They met the hearse when it pulled up.

When the service had started, we broke down the flag line, and headed to our motorcycles to prepare for the ride to the cemetary. The general route was one I'd travelled countless times when I lived in Brookfield and the next town over. But I'd never travelled it like this.

We rode out two abreast, under a flag draped from two fire trucks - the New Milford and Brookfield fire departments had come to pay their respects. There is video of the flag, and of the PGR, here and here.

People stood with flags here and there along the route. The local and state police did an excellent job with the escort, closing our route and allowing us to get to the New Milford cemetary without incident.

In the cemetary, people had come to stand along the route, too, holding flags and standing quietly along the drive. We waited until the procession entered the cemetary, and then formed a flag line around the service.



I'd never seen full military honors before, other than as portrayed on T.V. A number of Navy personnel were in attendance in addition to the pallbearers, and the lone Marine with the riderless horse was there, too. It is a somber, moving thing to see them. The professionalism and care with which they performed their duties is simply stunning. They moved Jason's flag-draped coffin gently into place as the service started.

There was the twenty-one gun salute, and the profoundly moving sound of Taps being played. Then the folding of the flag, and the presentation of that flag to Jason's wife. Tears flowed along the flag line, and among those in attendance.

A couple of times, as the minister spoke, the light wind would catch the flags and have them waving. One of those was just at the moment that he said the service was concluded.

And then came the moment when Jason's wife stopped at the flag line, and embraced one of the PGR members.

We were dismissed shortly after that, and I began the ride home still stunned by it all.

It's hard for me to explain the magnitude of the day. When a loved one is lost, the grief can be overwhelming. When a Hero is lost, it's not just one family that grieves. It's a community, a state, a nation.

The reality of the cost of war was never so tangible, so real, as that sunny Saturday when I stood among my fellow Patriot Guard Riders, to hopefully shoulder a little of the grief that Petty Officer Jason Dale Lewis' family was feeling.

The men and women who go to war know that they can become one of the fallen, carried in a flag-draped coffin as their family grieves. They know that they could lose their lives in a land far away

And still they go. For their families, for their friends, for strangers.

It was an honor to be able to help say farewell to one of them, and an experience that I will never forget. Though I wish I did not have to be called to do so again, I will be proud to stand with my fellow Patriot Guard Riders should the need arise.

Rest in Peace and Godspeed, Petty Officer Lewis, and thank you.

ADDITIONAL NOTE: Thank you to Soldiers' Angels Richard and Adele for coming to the service.

In Honor of SGT Michael Stokely

I have had the honor of meeting Mr. Robert Stokely, the father of a Fallen Hero. He is an amazing man, who has worked tirelessly to honor his son's sacrifice.

********************************************

1ST ANNUAL
“RIDE TO REMEMBER…”

SGT Michael James Stokely
US Army E Troop 108th Cavalry 48th BCT
GEORGIA ARMY National Guard
KIA 8/16/05 – Yusufiyah, Iraq

Saturday, August 25th, 2007

Law Enforcement Escorted Ride
(Cars and Motorcycles Welcome!)

Starting at First Baptist Church of Peachtree City (208 Willow Bend Road/behind City Hall)

AND THE ROUTE WILL INCLUDE THE SGT MIKE STOKELY MEMORIAL HIGHWAY IN SHARPSBURG, GA

Ending at Jackson-Pless National Guard Armory on Armory Road by Newnan High School/Newnan, GA

Family fun, games, entertainment, BBQ, door prizes, auction and

Grand Prize Raffle – a Motorcycle!

Pre-registration urged but can register onsite beginning at 8:00 a.m. We will Roll-off at 10:00 a.m.

This is a ‘sponsor’ ride with a goal of a minimum of $25 per bike/car

For each $250 in sponsorship donations – Free raffle ticket for the Grand Prize

Additional Tickets for the Motorcycle Raffle - $50

LET US KNOW IF YOU ARE COMING SO WE CAN HAVE PLENTY OF FOOD

One free meal ticket with each $25.00 sponsorship donation

Don’t want to ride? Come to the BBQ – plates available for $10.00 each

Children under 12 / hot dog plate - $5.00 each

Make checks payable to “The Mike Stokely Foundation”

Proceeds will help establish a scholarship in Mike’s name at his college

Georgia Military College in Milledgeville, GA - $25,000 challenge goal

For more information contact: Robert Stokely at rrmwastokely-AT-aol.com

WEBSITE: http://www.mikestokely.com/

100 Fountainhead Way, Sharpsburg, GA 30277

678-416-1387

The Mike Stokely Foundation, Inc. is registered and in good standing with the Georgia Secretary of State as a non-profit corporation and is recognized by the Internal Revenue Service as a 501 (3)(c) charitable organization.

When War Hits Close to Home...

Brookfield, CT is a not-so-small, not-so-big town near Danbury, in Fairfield county. When I grew up there, Hoffman's chicken farm was the biggest building on my end of Route 7, and it took you about ten minutes to get from the house I grew up in to the only movie theater in town - right next to John's Best Pizza. Hoffman's chicken farm is long gone, replaced with self storage centers and industrial buildings.

The farm where I first took horseback riding lessons is now the site of the town hall. The field we used to walk through in my neighborhood to get to the local fishing and swimming pond now is filled with a new housing development.

When I grew up there, Brookfield was a lot smaller - or seemed it. It was a place where you pretty much knew everyone in your grade in school; where people still left their doors unlocked at night, and no one locked their cars in their driveways. Brookfield is the place where I learned to ride a bike - where I got my first kiss - where I learned to drive a car - where I got my first job.

It was a nice place to grow up. It's still a pretty nice town, even if it now takes you almost a half an hour to make the trip to that movie theater, thanks to a wealth of new strip malls and stop lights.

Jason Dale Lewis grew up there.

Brookfield is still listed as his hometown:

IMMEDIATE RELEASE
No. 840-07July 07, 2007

DoD Identifies Navy Casualties

The Department of Defense announced today the death of three sailors who were
supporting Operation Iraqi Freedom. They died July 6 as a result of enemy action
while conducting combat operations in the vicinity of Baghdad, Iraq. The three
sailors were assigned to an East Coast-based SEAL team.

Killed were:
Petty Officer First Class Jason Dale Lewis, 30, of Brookfield, Conn.,

Petty Officer First Class Robert Richard McRill, 42, of Lake Placid, Fla.,

Petty Officer First Class Steven Phillip Daugherty, 28, of Barstow, Calif.

For further information related to this release, contact Naval Special Warfare Group Two Public Affairs at 757-462-2282.

I didn't know him. But I know his hometown well. I know the places where he and his friends probably hung out after school and on the weekends. I know the halls of the schools where he once walked. I know the roads he probably drove down too fast because of the great curves and "whoop-dee-doos" you got if you went just the right speed.

I know the pond he probably went skating on as a kid.

I asked my sister if she knew him. He was her age. She did.

"I wasn't friends with him but you know how in Brookfield you pretty much know everyone - he was a nice kid. I feel bad for his wife and kids, I was surprised to read that he had 3, they must be young."

This one hits close to home. Each day as I see the names, it affects me. But somehow this one is particularly strong. I remember my mother talking about when someone she went to school with was lost in Vietnam. Even if you're not close to them, seeing a familiar town on a casualty list reminds you that the people fighting this war are not just Soldiers, Marines, Airmen, or Sailors. They're sons and daughters, mothers and fathers, brothers, sisters, friends. They are ours. They are your paperboy, the kid who used to sell lemonade down the street, the little girl who fell off her bike in front of your house. They are your UPS guy, your brother's old girlfriend...or a 'nice kid,' who went to school with your sister.

One of the dangers as a war goes on is that it becomes less real, less personal. No matter what your belief about why we went, a few years into it, less and less people watch the news. Less and less people look up at the TV in the local watering hole when pictures of Soldiers flash across the screen.

Remember the first few names? The way that every single loss seemed incredibly important? And now, you hear the news reports, and it's just "in Iraq today, 4 US Soldiers were killed, bringing the total to..." The four get lost in the total. Just numbers.

But Jason wasn't a number. None of them are. Heroes to me, they're even more than that to those they leave behind. Hell, to them, they'd be heroes if they never went to war. They're Mom, or Dad, or a best friend...or a nice kid from Brookfield, CT.

Jason Dale Lewis died in Iraq on July 6. He leaves behind three kids, a wife, family, and friends. And he reminded me that every single loss hits close to home somewhere.

So tonight, please raise a glass, say a prayer, or pause a moment, for a nice kid from a nice town in Connecticut, who died in service to his country.

UPDATE: I am collecting condolence cards for Jason's family. If you would like to send one, please email me at fallensoldierbike-AT-sbcglobal.net for the address to get them to me.

Connecticut Mourns...

My home state passed a law this week - and fast-tracked it in order to ensure that a local Hero would be honored without the disruption of Westboro Baptist Church. The nitwits from Westboro were a no-show, thank goodness. The PGR was present to honor 1st Lt. Keith Heidman, and my state showed that it can come together to pay tribute to its Heroes, and to ensure that they are honored in the manner they deserve:

NORWICH, Conn. -- Connecticut mourned U.S. Army 1st Lt. Keith Heidtman on Friday after his helicopter was shot down in Iraq on Memorial Day.

The 24-year-old's funeral began at 10 a.m. at St. Patrick's Cathedral after crews set up flags around the cathedral and police closed streets. Channel 3 Eyewitness News reporter Jessica Schneider reported mourners left the cathedral shortly before noon. The ceremony lasted for about an hour and a half.

Full Story

Remembering...

I've been a little on edge lately. I have a friend in the 1-4 CAV who I hadn't heard from in a while. Not all that surprising, given how busy I know they've been, but I knew things had been pretty ugly in the area they'd been operating in. I also knew they'd lost four Soldiers.

I know that my worry can't compare to the fear and worry that family members go through, but I was worried nonetheless.

I finally heard from him Saturday morning, and thank goodness, he's fine.

But four other 1-4 CAV Soldiers will not be delivering that same message:

PFC Steven J. Wahlberg, only 18, was from Paradise, California. He died April 15 of wounds sustained from enemy small arms fire. The Patriot Guard Riders were there to salute him as he was laid to rest.

PFC Aaron M. Genevie was 22, and called Chambersburg, PA home. He died April 16 of wounds sustained when his vehicle struck an IED. The Patriot Guard Riders were there to salute him as he was laid to rest.

PFC Christopher M. North was 21. From Sarasota, FL, he died April 21 of wounds suffered when his unit came in contact with enemy forces using an IED and small arms fire.

SPC Robert J. Dixon, 27, was from Minneapolis. He died May 6, of wounds suffered when an IED detonated near his vehicle. The Patriot Guard Riders were there to salute him as he was laid to rest.

Our hearts are with the family, friends, and military brothers and sisters of these fallen Heroes.

In Memoriam...

Air Force ROTC cadet Virginia Tech shooting victim
Cadet Matthew La Porte, one of the 32 students and faculty killed during the shooting incident at Virginia Tech April 16, was a sophomore in Air Force ROTC Detachment 875 and the Virginia Tech Corps of Cadets. (Courtesy photo)

One Young Hero

When Sketch told me about the bike, one name flashed immediately in my mind. In part, this bike is personal for me, too - because as a tribute to fallen Heroes, one of the people that Sketch is honoring with this bike is a young Soldier from South Dakota named Gunnar Becker.

Gunnar was well liked by everyone who knew him. Ironically, even as a kid, he was wearing the "Big Red One." He joined the Army because “I came in to make a difference.” PFC Becker served as a tank driver with Bravo Company, 2nd Platoon, in the 1st Infantry Division’s 2nd Battalion, 63rd Armor Regiment. On January 13, 2005, Gunnar lost his life in a non-combat-related accident while serving in Iraq. He was 19.

Gunnar's loss hit his family and his military brothers hard. It also was hard on the Soldiers' Angels who'd known him. I had been one of the Angels monitoring the KIA lists at that point - we would make phone calls to adopting Angels to break the news. While nothing compared to the grief of a Soldier's family, we Angels worry about our adoptees, rejoice at homecomings, and grieve, too. Our adoptees become a part of our extended family, at least until they return home. Sometimes even later, if they choose to stay in contact with us.

In the aftermath of Gunnar's death, we all got to know his Mom, Debey, a little bit. She is an amazingly strong woman, who will readily tell you that her son was a Hero. Rather than blaming his military service for his death, she appreciates her son for the brave young man that he was.

I remember a phone conversation I had with Debey. We talked about the drought that was happening in South Dakota then, and how they were worried about the farms that were starved for water. We talked about her grandson, and how he was a little devil, just like Gunnar had been at that age. We talked about Gunnar.

I'd recently posted over at my blog about an anti-war display in which the names of fallen Heroes were used without the permission of their families in order to make a point. Gunnar's name was one of those. Debey hadn't been pleased, and she wasn't alone. No matter your view on the war, using the names of fallen Heroes to advance a political agenda, without the consent of their families, isn't right. Debey had forwarded the information to me, and asked me if I'd post about it.

A little while later, Debey sent me some photos of an entirely different use of Gunnar's name. She sent me the pictures of his headstone. Debey had honored her son with a beautiful stone, a fitting tribute to her beloved son. I posted those, too. I told Debey I hoped I'd done him justice.

And now, almost two years to the day that we lost a young Hero named Gunnar Becker, I got a chance to be involved in a project honoring fallen Heroes. It seems that PFC Becker isn't quite done with us yet. So for me, this project is for all Fallen Heroes, but just a little bit about one Hero in particular.

And there are, sadly, a lot of Gunnars, and a lot of Debeys - fallen Heroes and grieving families. My involvement in this project is small compared to Sketch's, but I hope that what we're doing, in some small way, helps to let them all know that we will never forget.

We are soldiers.
We are soldiers in the United States Army.
We are trained to be all we can be.

We fight for the freedom of many citizens of the United States.
We are all ready to meet our fates.

We all volunteer to defend the red, white and blue.
Not only the flag, but for the citizens of our great country too.

Since our country's birth for all these years,
we have been trained to be the best on Earth.

Many times we have went to war.
We will be involved in many more.

Generation by generation soldiers continue to enlist.
Some of us will got to war and definitely be missed.

Some soldiers will return and some won't.
Those who do not, we won't forget and we hope you don't.

Many of us are going to Iraq.
Some of us won't be coming back.

We have loved ones we are leaving behind.
They will always be in our prayers, hearts and mind.

If we don't make it home safely at the end of the war,
just remember we died defending the beliefs of those of many more.

-- PFC Gunnar Becker, November, 23, 2003
(Killed in Iraq, January 13, 2005)

UPDATE:
If you'll check out the comments section, you'll see that Debey (Gunnar's Mom) stopped by, and she's posted about the project on her blog...thank you Debey. I knew I'd seen a picture of Gunnar that I wanted to post, but couldn't find it. Debey has it, and I swiped it to add here - just another reason that this project for me is a little about Gunnar: