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To the members of the Patriot Guard

I had heard of you through the news media. Being a pretty serious motorcycle rider I thought how cool is was that a group of men would do what I envisioned you doing.
Then at 6:00A.M. on Monday October 16th, two Army Officers stood at my sister's door bearing the news that her son, Sergeant Jonathan Lootens, had died in action in Iraq.
It wasn't cool anymore. In this country in this day and age a family that loses a loved one in the War on Terror is about to fall down the rabbit hole.

There is nothing that has prepared them for what is about to happen. They are swept up in a torrent of activity of notification of friends and relatives, funeral arrangements, dealing with the Army for the delivery of their son's body, and the coordination of both a church service and military funeral. Add to that the media frenzy, and the politicians. There is little time to grieve. You are disoriented and vulnerable.
Then there was the threat of protest. John's sister contacted the Patriot Guard. I began to see postings of men saying they were standing by. A calmness came overeach of our hearts. Patriot's were standing by. They would be there for us.

The small town of Phelps is where the funeral was to take place. It is a rural sort of Norman Rockwell town that lies south east ofRochester, New York. The days before the funeral were cold, windy and rainy. There was little doubt that winter was quickly being ushered in. This isn't the twenty mile ride to the ice cream parlor kind of weather. I knew the sort of men that could ride distances in cold, wind and rain.

On the day of the funeral the rain stopped and the sun appeared. But the cold and the wind stayed a part of that late autumn day. As we drove to the church we passed the mortuary where John's body rested until it was time for the Honor Guard to move him to the funeral services.

In front of the mortuary stood the Patriot Guard. Each stood with an unfurled American flag. They stood in formation along the side walk facing the street. A second group stood on either side of the sidewalk leading to the door of the funeral home. Their flags were dipped forming an arch above the walk. As we walked to the church another group of Patriot Guards had formed up on the opposite side of the street. I looked at their serious faces and knew that their mission was to protect the sanctity and dignity of this day. Following the church services we stood on the church steps. The Army was about say goodbye to a fallen brother in their way.

You know what happens next. The folded flag presented to the Mother with a near tearful whisper of "from a grateful nation". The heart tearing sound of a twenty-one gunsalute, followed by bagpipe playing a final taps. As the bagpipe's woeful melody filled the air I looked out throughtear filled eyes and saw the Honor Guard enfolding their fallen comrade.

Beyond them was a cascade of yellow, gold and red leaves being blown from the trees. And beyond the leaves stood the Patriot Guard. Their unfurled flags caught in the wind formed a wall of red white and blue.
It was a scene of immense tragedy and immense beauty.
You didn't wait around for a warm handshake or apat on the back. You just melted away. You were there and then you weren't there.

But be not mistaken you were a part of a loving family,community, and brothers in arms who said farewell to an American Son.

Mark Hertel
Poulsbo, WA