Mission complete

Though the first week of November, it was warm increasing to hot as the group of bikers gathered today.  A group mainly seen to be well north of 60 years of age, for whom gray beards and hair dominated.  Yes, there were some youngsters, but the majority of the gents who gathered today are of the Vietnam generation.  In addition to their age cohort, the majority also share veteran status.  Looking at the patches adorning the leather vests, we had Army, Navy, Air Force, and Marine Corps vets on deck.    Again, the majority are bikers, looking for shade as they parked their rides.

It's a Friday morning and these folks have rolled in from a wide area, several (like me) having ridden over 100 miles to gather for the mission of the day: to honor a 19 year old fallen Marine.  We walk around, shaking hands, acknowledging those with whom we've shared previous missions, and greeting others for the first time.  Over time, dozens arrive and stage.  Watching the parking lot, we see the Marine Corps Honor Guard arrive, as well as family and friends of the young (all to young) Marine.  By the way, none of us had ever met this young Marine, but we have gathered nonetheless to honor him.

Upon command, we stage as the services conclude, so that we can provide a flag line to honor the Marine, as he is loaded into the hearse by the pall bears, a mixture of Marines and high school friends.  In addition to we members of the @Patriot Guard Riders are the Teamsters.

Old men in their leathers, an elderly couple, a lady in a wheel chair, and some young vets are in our group.  On command, we come to ATTENTION and PRESENT ARMS, hoisting our American flags straight up, forming two lines through which the pall bearers carry the casket to the hearse for the Marine's final ride.  After he is safely aboard, we are dismissed to our bikes, with a Missing Man formation leading the hearse, followed by the immediate family, and then escorted by the dozens of other bikers, with others following in cars.

Slowly we roll over surface streets, in the now 90 degree temperatures, heading for the national cemetery.  Most cars seeing us, pull over out of respect.  Via road guard support in blocking traffic, we roll through intersections at a stately pace.  Entering the cemetery, we are now rolling at about 10 MPH.  As we pass one of the numerous commitment shelters, an Army Honor Guard on another, separate mission sees the procession, comes to attention, and salutes. 

Finally, we arrive at our destination.  Forming another Flag Line, we PRESENT ARMS as this Marine is carried in by the pall bearers, remaining at this position as family and friends walk through to the commitment shelter.  Finally, all are in place.  

Now the elements of the military funeral honors are conducted, pulling at the emotions of each of us.  Prayers from the Navy Chaplain, the folding of the American Flag, firing the rifle volleys, solo bugle playing of Taps, PRESENTING ARMS, and presenting of the flag to the Marine's mother.  No pictures here.  Just moments of reflection as the Marine NCO salutes the fallen Marine's mother, kneels in front of her, and offers these words, "On behalf of a grateful Nation...," and presents her the folded flag.

Shortly thereafter, a bagpiper plays, tears are shed, and another Marine is paid his final honors.

I eventually mount my bike and begin the long ride home.  Somber and reflective, I'll add this memory to those of other missions.

Another mission has been completed.  The majority of the nation has no idea what this group of folks did this hot November day.  But in my heart, I believe my fellow Marine knows we were there.