Memorial Day

In September of 1995, two guys from my tank platoon were killed while on their way to work. Charlie Barcia and Jonathan Phillips were both barely 21, and not much younger than I was. Neither was married, and both were brand new to the platoon. Charlie was my loader, and Johathan was the driver of the Platoon Sergeant's tank. Charlie was from Long Island, NY, and Johathan was from Missouri. Two good kids who, while not at war, still died in the service of their country.

We divided escort duties between me and my Platoon Sergeant. I would be the escort officer for Private First Class Charles Barcia, and Sergeant First Class Sievers would escort the remains of Private Johathan Phillips to his home. It is tradition in the military to ensure that remains of servicemembers make it home to their final post, and to ensure their service is appropriately honored. In my case, it was my duty to ensure the remains made it on the aircraft to New York, that they make it to the funeral home, and subsequently to the funeral and internment. On the morning of the trip, I met the funeral director in Killeen and inspected the remains, and then he took us to the Austin Airport where Charlie was loaded on the plane. I traveled in the Dress Green uniform, a formality appropriate to the task of ensuring honors were rendered. On my person I carried the folded flag that was to cover the casket, the same flag I would present to Charlie's mother. Several people looked, some stared. Older men seemed to understand what I was doing; younger generations looked awkwardly at me, as my appearance stuck out from the normal travler.

The trip did not go smooth. The airline lost Charlie in Atlanta; they nonchalantly could not confirm if he made the transfer from one plane to another. I remember angily asking the clerk at the gate counter "how could you lose my loader?!" I demanded they open the cargo hold and allow me to verify that he was in fact on the plane, and they complied. They did not understand the gravity of the situation, nor did they realize the disrespect they were showing. After I verified he was in the plane, the airline apologized and we were on our way again.

On the ground, I was assisted in New York by the Casualty Assistance Officer, a Sergeant First Class from the New York National Guard who was present at the notification of Charlie's next of kin. After we handed Charlie off to the local funeral director, he took me to my hotel and checked me in. The next morning we went to meet Charlie's parents. The meeting started off very tense; I think she initially blamed me for his death (which was a traffic accident). But I shared some pictures from the platoon, as well as some mementos the platoon sent, and the air lifted. After that, we went to the funeral home, where the family would see the remains prior to a week of visitations.

One of the rules to being an escort is that whenever there is a visitation, the escort must always be present. The escort is the first in the room and the last to leave. I stood quietly off to the side, and spoke to those who spoke to me. I stood for the duration, despite being offered a seat on many occasions. I felt it was more appropriate to stand, in honor of a guy who again, while not at war, died in service to his country none the less. Charlie was a good Soldier who had a bright future. It was evident by the volume of family and visitors he had that he was well-liked.

The funeral and graveside service at Cavelton National Cemetary followed several days of visitations. I rehearsed my line to Charlie's mother continuously the night before, and did everything in my power to choke out the lines: "On behalf of the people of a grateful Nation, I present to you this flag as a symbol of your Son's dedication and service." I added the comment that her son was a good Soldier and I was proud to serve with him. I stood, saluted the flag and walked away, trying to get as far away as possible before I lost my composure. They played Taps, and the honor guard fired a 21 gun salute.

Escorting the remains of Charlie Barcia home to his family remains the hardest and at the same time most rewarding duty I have done in my service as a Soldier. Since then, there are others who have passed, both deployed in combat and in garrison assignments in the States.

Less than a percent of the American population serves in the military. I hope you took some time to think about the cost of Freedom this Memorial Day. If not, please make it a point to visit a National Cemetary soon, and to pay respects to those who gave everything they had over our Nation's 230-plus years so you could enjoy a day off at the lake, with friends, at a barbecue, or relaxing with the family.

Thanks for reading.
Ron