A Dignified Arrival

On Saturday, I was humbled to go to a dignified arrival at WPAFB for a fallen solider from Troy. My father works on the base, and he told me that it was going to happen Saturday morning, and that I should go. It sounded like a good idea, though I was already fighting tears when he was telling me about it.

I didn't know this young man. His name was PFC Jeffrey Rice, and he was only 24. I just feel like I should acknowledge his name because of his sacrifice. At first I was worried that we would be intruding, going to the arrival. But dad said it was a show of support, to pay respects to a serviceman. I am so glad that I went. I would say that over 50 non-uniformed people, including my parents and my husband were there. Also, around 200 uniformed servicemen and servicewomen provided a detail for the arrival. The base commander was also present. I hope this showed the family that his death was not in vain. Even now I am sobbing as I write, I just can't see the sorrow of loss and not be moved. Freedom isn't free, it costs, and it hurts. But I am so glad that this young man sacrificed for me. I can walk the streets of America safely, and express my opinions, and go to church because of him. His life is valued to me, even though I didn't know him.

The ceremony itself was simple but so touching. Veterans on their motorcycles stood outside the hangar as the plane came up, many with flag in their hands. They wore patches to show their branch and service. (I could see my grandpa up there too, though he wasn't, as he served in Korea. Many of my grandpa's unit didn't make it home, but he did. I am so grateful.) The servicemen who provided the detail stood orderly across the wide of the hanger, two deep, at attention and then saluting when the flag-draped casket was brought though. It tore me up inside, just thinking about this young man who gave everything to defend me, to defend America. I heard weeping from others around me in the hangar as I fought back tears also. Then the casket was loaded and the family got in the other car. Then the veterans walked through and out the other side, where their motorcycles were waiting. The roar of the engines sounded, and the procession moved out.  My thoughts and prayers go with the family, who know have an empty place in their hearts and lives.

I am so grateful that dad told me about the dignified arrival, and that I took time in my Saturday morning to go. It was a potent reminder that while the war is far away physically, it's always close emotionally. I will be moved for the rest of my life as a result of this experience.

God bless and comfort the family as they grieve this loss. God bless the USA.