Tater
04-24-2009, 01:21 PM
...but well worth the read.
It was nothing like the Kevin Bacon movie “Taking Chance”. Hollywood could never capture the military dedication and honor shown to a fallen service member leaving the theater of war. There were thousands of Airmen, Soldiers, Sailors, Marines, and civilians who stood by and paid their respect as I loaded and unloaded my friend off one aircraft and onto another for the long journey home. It was something so professional, so honored, and so heartfelt, that only a handful of people can bear faith to the respect that was shown to the deceased.
It started with my EOD brothers helping me carry SSgt Philip Myers’ remains in the pouring rain at Kandahar Air Field onto a C-17. The scene was so surreal, almost like out of a movie. A formation of almost 500 coalition forces gathered as the sound of a lone bagpiper playing Amazing Grace filled the night sky. After the procession of escorts said their heartfelt goodbyes on the plane in Kandahar Air Field, I found myself all alone with my friend. It was a solemn time, full of tears, as the two of us had an entire cargo hold to ourselves. Many thoughts raced through my mind during those hours; mostly, of times I had spent with Phil and his family. A thought from one of my retired EOD supervisors, Master Sergeant Seymour Irby, stuck in my head – “EOD always travels together; never go solo whenever possible.” This hit me hard because just hours before the ceremony I was told we couldn’t escort the remains because that wasn’t allowed. Usually only Special Forces were allowed that privilege. Yet, thanks to the combined efforts from Joint Task Force-Paladin, 3rd Ordnance Battalion, Mobile Unit 3, 755th Air Expeditionary Group, and all of the leadership involved, Phil didn’t have to make the journey alone.
Along each stop to the states, the numerous aircrews, chaplains, and service members stood by in formation to pay their respect to this fallen service member. A separate ceremony and a human remains detail were performed each time we loaded and unloaded his body along the way. The joint military effort was truly amazing – from the Army soldiers who meticulously ensured Phil was properly cared for during transport; to the Airman who stepped out of detail allowing me to carry my friend onto the aircraft, every time. It even went all the way down to the Marine Corporal in Kuwait who meticulously trimmed each frayed string from the flag that draped Phil’s transfer case. It was truly a life altering event to witness…this camaraderie between service men and women, honoring the fallen regardless of what uniform they wore.
After the transfer ceremony in Kuwait ended and while I was sitting on the plane for Germany, the Passenger Terminal informed the pilot I was to be removed from the aircraft because there was a discrepancy with my paperwork. As I exited the plane, I was distraught when I realized I wouldn’t be able to keep my promise and bring Phil’s remains back to his wife. Exhausted, with still zero appetite and not having slept in over 40 hours, I was decimated. With time working against me, I headed to the Passenger Terminal.
Upon reaching the terminal, Command Chief Antwine recognized me from the ceremony at the plane and questioned why I was not longer on the flight. In less than a minute, I was back in the terminal surrounded by Chief Niehaus, Chief Antwine, and as luck would have it, AFCENT Command Chief Deardorff, who had all been to the plane to pay their respect. Apparently, there was a misunderstanding with my orders and that is why I had been taken off the flight.
I had always heard the expression CAN’T isn’t in a Chief’s vocabulary, but I had never seen it in such a grand scale as I did at this particular moment in my military career. The spark that lit all three of the Chiefs’ fuses was when they were informed they CAN’T hold the plane for even five minutes, so they could make some phone calls for clarification. In less than five minutes, I was in a vehicle pulling on the taxiway right in from of the aircraft I had just left, and they were letting me back on. As I got onto the plane, Chief Deardorff gave me a huge brotherly hug; one from the heart that showed real concern. The expression was the type that family members give to one another to help keep them going. He said, “You get back on that plane and take care of his family. Express my deepest sympathy, and let them know Phil was loved and will be missed.”
As I landed in Ramstein, Germany, I decided to stay on the plane to avoid any further debarkation issues. I still haven’t slept and I’m tired, but it’s the last stop before we reach the states. The Ramstein EOD unit, led by Chief Carson, took me totally by surprise as the boarded the aircraft to pay respect to their fallen brother. It was good to see familiar faces and close friends as they provided me updates on the family’s status. Amazing what strength you can muster from just a few minutes with friends.
Dover Air Force Base, my final stop. I’ve had two days to try and think of what words can console a grieving widow…I am at a loss. There are no words. Words can never explain the why. Hopefully in those few moments as I hugged Aimee, I was able to convey the deepest sympathy our entire community shared for their family’s loss.
I can’t even begin to describe how you would provide some feeling of closure to the loved one of a service member who paid the ultimate sacrifice. In the short 24-hour span I spent with Phil’s family, escorting his remains, I tried to express everything I had witnessed and the unwavering honor and respect he was shown on his return. Sadly, I will not be able to attend his burial at Arlington Cemetery, as my own tour of duty called me back to Afghanistan. I hope Aimee, Dakota, and Kaiden; Phil’s family and friends, will never forget how he chose to put himself in harm’s way to ensure the safety of others…and the care and honor these “others” showed him in the journey to his final resting place.
Rest in peace my brother,
SMSgt Joseph R. Hrezo “with an H”
It was nothing like the Kevin Bacon movie “Taking Chance”. Hollywood could never capture the military dedication and honor shown to a fallen service member leaving the theater of war. There were thousands of Airmen, Soldiers, Sailors, Marines, and civilians who stood by and paid their respect as I loaded and unloaded my friend off one aircraft and onto another for the long journey home. It was something so professional, so honored, and so heartfelt, that only a handful of people can bear faith to the respect that was shown to the deceased.
It started with my EOD brothers helping me carry SSgt Philip Myers’ remains in the pouring rain at Kandahar Air Field onto a C-17. The scene was so surreal, almost like out of a movie. A formation of almost 500 coalition forces gathered as the sound of a lone bagpiper playing Amazing Grace filled the night sky. After the procession of escorts said their heartfelt goodbyes on the plane in Kandahar Air Field, I found myself all alone with my friend. It was a solemn time, full of tears, as the two of us had an entire cargo hold to ourselves. Many thoughts raced through my mind during those hours; mostly, of times I had spent with Phil and his family. A thought from one of my retired EOD supervisors, Master Sergeant Seymour Irby, stuck in my head – “EOD always travels together; never go solo whenever possible.” This hit me hard because just hours before the ceremony I was told we couldn’t escort the remains because that wasn’t allowed. Usually only Special Forces were allowed that privilege. Yet, thanks to the combined efforts from Joint Task Force-Paladin, 3rd Ordnance Battalion, Mobile Unit 3, 755th Air Expeditionary Group, and all of the leadership involved, Phil didn’t have to make the journey alone.
Along each stop to the states, the numerous aircrews, chaplains, and service members stood by in formation to pay their respect to this fallen service member. A separate ceremony and a human remains detail were performed each time we loaded and unloaded his body along the way. The joint military effort was truly amazing – from the Army soldiers who meticulously ensured Phil was properly cared for during transport; to the Airman who stepped out of detail allowing me to carry my friend onto the aircraft, every time. It even went all the way down to the Marine Corporal in Kuwait who meticulously trimmed each frayed string from the flag that draped Phil’s transfer case. It was truly a life altering event to witness…this camaraderie between service men and women, honoring the fallen regardless of what uniform they wore.
After the transfer ceremony in Kuwait ended and while I was sitting on the plane for Germany, the Passenger Terminal informed the pilot I was to be removed from the aircraft because there was a discrepancy with my paperwork. As I exited the plane, I was distraught when I realized I wouldn’t be able to keep my promise and bring Phil’s remains back to his wife. Exhausted, with still zero appetite and not having slept in over 40 hours, I was decimated. With time working against me, I headed to the Passenger Terminal.
Upon reaching the terminal, Command Chief Antwine recognized me from the ceremony at the plane and questioned why I was not longer on the flight. In less than a minute, I was back in the terminal surrounded by Chief Niehaus, Chief Antwine, and as luck would have it, AFCENT Command Chief Deardorff, who had all been to the plane to pay their respect. Apparently, there was a misunderstanding with my orders and that is why I had been taken off the flight.
I had always heard the expression CAN’T isn’t in a Chief’s vocabulary, but I had never seen it in such a grand scale as I did at this particular moment in my military career. The spark that lit all three of the Chiefs’ fuses was when they were informed they CAN’T hold the plane for even five minutes, so they could make some phone calls for clarification. In less than five minutes, I was in a vehicle pulling on the taxiway right in from of the aircraft I had just left, and they were letting me back on. As I got onto the plane, Chief Deardorff gave me a huge brotherly hug; one from the heart that showed real concern. The expression was the type that family members give to one another to help keep them going. He said, “You get back on that plane and take care of his family. Express my deepest sympathy, and let them know Phil was loved and will be missed.”
As I landed in Ramstein, Germany, I decided to stay on the plane to avoid any further debarkation issues. I still haven’t slept and I’m tired, but it’s the last stop before we reach the states. The Ramstein EOD unit, led by Chief Carson, took me totally by surprise as the boarded the aircraft to pay respect to their fallen brother. It was good to see familiar faces and close friends as they provided me updates on the family’s status. Amazing what strength you can muster from just a few minutes with friends.
Dover Air Force Base, my final stop. I’ve had two days to try and think of what words can console a grieving widow…I am at a loss. There are no words. Words can never explain the why. Hopefully in those few moments as I hugged Aimee, I was able to convey the deepest sympathy our entire community shared for their family’s loss.
I can’t even begin to describe how you would provide some feeling of closure to the loved one of a service member who paid the ultimate sacrifice. In the short 24-hour span I spent with Phil’s family, escorting his remains, I tried to express everything I had witnessed and the unwavering honor and respect he was shown on his return. Sadly, I will not be able to attend his burial at Arlington Cemetery, as my own tour of duty called me back to Afghanistan. I hope Aimee, Dakota, and Kaiden; Phil’s family and friends, will never forget how he chose to put himself in harm’s way to ensure the safety of others…and the care and honor these “others” showed him in the journey to his final resting place.
Rest in peace my brother,
SMSgt Joseph R. Hrezo “with an H”