The Final Journey Home
June 2nd, 2008 has become a day I will remember as long as I live.
My flight had been planned for weeks when I was notified I would need to make changes and travel later in
the day due to my participation in several important conference calls. I sat in the airport taking the calls while
waiting to board the flight for Detroit. Then, it would be on to meetings in Nashville.
Arriving in Detroit around 2 PM I wasn't tired but becoming mentally exhausted. It had been over a year and
a half of managing layoffs, rebuilding, and continuing to provide an acceptable level of service for our
customers. I quickly ate some lunch and made my way to the gate for the leg to Nashville. There, I heard,
there was a maintenance issue and that we would be delayed. This certainly did not help my irritation level
but I moved quietly with the crowd to an alternate gate and waited on the flight.
We finally boarded and I thought wonderful, I will get to Nashville today. The just over an hour flight, was
uneventful. As soon as the plane was parked at the gate and the quite familiar bell chimed I loosened my belt
and quickly stepped into the aisle. I opened the over head compartment, pulled my carry-on out and was
ready to deplane. Others were scurrying into aisle with the same thought as I had, I want off this plane.
It was then the deep voice of the captain came over the intercom; "If you folks would be so kind as to step
back into your seat and allow the young soldier to go ahead of you, I would appreciate it. He has some duties
to attend to". I know I wasn't the only frequent traveler that grumbled. Heavens, I thought, I am just a few feet
from the door why do I need to wait for someone to come from the back of the plane? Agitated I stepped back
into the small space between the seats and looked back through the plane as others did the same.
I saw the young man nodding and thanking people as he made his way through the tangle of men and
women. His close cropped hair and dress greens signifying his Army association. As he made his way near
my seat we locked eyes, he nodded, bowed his head, and respectfully said thank you sir. I half-heartedly
acknowledged his thank you.
Then, I saw it; the patch on his uniform. The red, white and blue circle with the words Honor Guard stitched
into it. I now knew why he was on the plane. A lump swelled in my throat and I bowed my head in shame
because of my own selfish thoughts.
I have a long military history in my family, both my dad and brother retiring after 16 and 21 years
respectively; my younger brother serving for 10 years. I always hold our service men and women in the
highest regard; this humbled me even more.
I didn't see where he went; he strode quickly up the jet-way and out of my sight. I wheeled my bag slowly
through the construction in the airport and upon turning the corner I looked out the large window. There was
the plane I had just exited; I saw him. The young soldier was standing, jaw squared, his at hands at his side,
slightly cupped, a black beret covering his head, his eyes locked on the open cargo door of the plane. A silver
haired gentleman stood still beside him, a desert camouflaged bag lay at their feet.
My heart sank this young man has just escorted one of our brave soldiers on the final ride home. Tears welled
in my eyes. I struggled to hold them in and not weep in the airport. I didn’t move; I too stood still to pay
respect. The thoughts of the day quickly vanished. How silly of me to be so upset. Part of my company had
been sold, I am not the first to face this and I won't be the last. What were we going to do? Did it matter now? I
still have life, liberty and the freedom to help make things work. We will survive. This young soldier hadn't
survived.
The Honor Guard only moved slightly from his stance to shake hands with the four ramp workers. All of the
bags unloaded, I watched as a second man climbed into the cargo pit and the two began tugging gently on
what was presumably a large object. It was our young soldier. The box came into view and the Honor Guard
standing with that grey haired father snapped his hand to his forehead and held his salute as the men turned
the coffin to slide it out.
As I watched intently I failed to notice the transport vehicle had pulled up. Attached to an airport tractor was
a luggage car. It's very unprofessional red, white, and blue paint job would on most days seem hideous, yet
today it was gorgeously patriotic and the sight of it sent chills racing down my back. The words "honor,
respect, revere" were stenciled on the back. Each military branch insignia was proudly displayed on the top.
A flag draped over each side would serve as a protective cover for its most precious cargo.
Those four strong men who would most often toss our luggage, laugh, and be in their own world became the
most respectable pall bearers anyone could imagine. They softly loaded the coffin of that young soldier into
the make shift hearse. Stepping back, they too stood at attention.
The Honor Guard's hand snapped back to his side and he completed the salute to his fallen comrade. He
walked that silver-haired father to an escort police vehicle and then took a seat in the tractor.
Slowly the motorcade pulled away.
Anything I will face in the next weeks or even months will seem most trivial compared to someone losing
their life in defense of my freedom. No responsibility can be placed on me that would equal having to escort
a most precious cargo and be with a parent when their child is brought home for the last time. No feeling of
anxiety, despair, or loneliness will match what that father and family feels. Did all of the events of my day or
even my last year and a half really matter now? Certainly not; I still have life, liberty, and happiness.
God Bless our Soldiers,
©
© Andy Bean
June 2nd, 2008 has become a day I will remember as long as I live.
My flight had been planned for weeks when I was notified I would need to make changes and travel later in
the day due to my participation in several important conference calls. I sat in the airport taking the calls while
waiting to board the flight for Detroit. Then, it would be on to meetings in Nashville.
Arriving in Detroit around 2 PM I wasn't tired but becoming mentally exhausted. It had been over a year and
a half of managing layoffs, rebuilding, and continuing to provide an acceptable level of service for our
customers. I quickly ate some lunch and made my way to the gate for the leg to Nashville. There, I heard,
there was a maintenance issue and that we would be delayed. This certainly did not help my irritation level
but I moved quietly with the crowd to an alternate gate and waited on the flight.
We finally boarded and I thought wonderful, I will get to Nashville today. The just over an hour flight, was
uneventful. As soon as the plane was parked at the gate and the quite familiar bell chimed I loosened my belt
and quickly stepped into the aisle. I opened the over head compartment, pulled my carry-on out and was
ready to deplane. Others were scurrying into aisle with the same thought as I had, I want off this plane.
It was then the deep voice of the captain came over the intercom; "If you folks would be so kind as to step
back into your seat and allow the young soldier to go ahead of you, I would appreciate it. He has some duties
to attend to". I know I wasn't the only frequent traveler that grumbled. Heavens, I thought, I am just a few feet
from the door why do I need to wait for someone to come from the back of the plane? Agitated I stepped back
into the small space between the seats and looked back through the plane as others did the same.
I saw the young man nodding and thanking people as he made his way through the tangle of men and
women. His close cropped hair and dress greens signifying his Army association. As he made his way near
my seat we locked eyes, he nodded, bowed his head, and respectfully said thank you sir. I half-heartedly
acknowledged his thank you.
Then, I saw it; the patch on his uniform. The red, white and blue circle with the words Honor Guard stitched
into it. I now knew why he was on the plane. A lump swelled in my throat and I bowed my head in shame
because of my own selfish thoughts.
I have a long military history in my family, both my dad and brother retiring after 16 and 21 years
respectively; my younger brother serving for 10 years. I always hold our service men and women in the
highest regard; this humbled me even more.
I didn't see where he went; he strode quickly up the jet-way and out of my sight. I wheeled my bag slowly
through the construction in the airport and upon turning the corner I looked out the large window. There was
the plane I had just exited; I saw him. The young soldier was standing, jaw squared, his at hands at his side,
slightly cupped, a black beret covering his head, his eyes locked on the open cargo door of the plane. A silver
haired gentleman stood still beside him, a desert camouflaged bag lay at their feet.
My heart sank this young man has just escorted one of our brave soldiers on the final ride home. Tears welled
in my eyes. I struggled to hold them in and not weep in the airport. I didn’t move; I too stood still to pay
respect. The thoughts of the day quickly vanished. How silly of me to be so upset. Part of my company had
been sold, I am not the first to face this and I won't be the last. What were we going to do? Did it matter now? I
still have life, liberty and the freedom to help make things work. We will survive. This young soldier hadn't
survived.
The Honor Guard only moved slightly from his stance to shake hands with the four ramp workers. All of the
bags unloaded, I watched as a second man climbed into the cargo pit and the two began tugging gently on
what was presumably a large object. It was our young soldier. The box came into view and the Honor Guard
standing with that grey haired father snapped his hand to his forehead and held his salute as the men turned
the coffin to slide it out.
As I watched intently I failed to notice the transport vehicle had pulled up. Attached to an airport tractor was
a luggage car. It's very unprofessional red, white, and blue paint job would on most days seem hideous, yet
today it was gorgeously patriotic and the sight of it sent chills racing down my back. The words "honor,
respect, revere" were stenciled on the back. Each military branch insignia was proudly displayed on the top.
A flag draped over each side would serve as a protective cover for its most precious cargo.
Those four strong men who would most often toss our luggage, laugh, and be in their own world became the
most respectable pall bearers anyone could imagine. They softly loaded the coffin of that young soldier into
the make shift hearse. Stepping back, they too stood at attention.
The Honor Guard's hand snapped back to his side and he completed the salute to his fallen comrade. He
walked that silver-haired father to an escort police vehicle and then took a seat in the tractor.
Slowly the motorcade pulled away.
Anything I will face in the next weeks or even months will seem most trivial compared to someone losing
their life in defense of my freedom. No responsibility can be placed on me that would equal having to escort
a most precious cargo and be with a parent when their child is brought home for the last time. No feeling of
anxiety, despair, or loneliness will match what that father and family feels. Did all of the events of my day or
even my last year and a half really matter now? Certainly not; I still have life, liberty, and happiness.
God Bless our Soldiers,
©
© Andy Bean
Andy Bean
