Yesterday I rode in my first mission since joining the Patriot Guard Riders. About 100 Patriot Guard motorcycle riders rode into the small town of Smithville, TX (pop. 4000) to honor and pay our respects to PFC Tina M. Priest, who was killed in Iraq on March 1, 2006.

The final ride report from the Ride Captain, BexarWolf, is here. Other riders posted their feelings starting about halfway down this page.

News 8 Austin was on site, too. Their report and video are here.

Thankfully, there were no protestors at this funeral, so we were all able to focus on nothing more than paying our respects for this fallen hero.

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I wasn’t prepared for the impact that being part of this mission would have on me. I was even less prepared to witness the impact that it had on Pfc Priest’s family, their community, and her fellow Soldiers who came to bury her.

We arrived outside the church after the funeral services had already started. We formed up in several rows directly across the street from the front door of the church. When the service ended and the mourners made their way out of the church, the first thing they saw was nearly 100 leather-clad motorcycle riders standing in silent formation, nearly every one of us holding a large US flag.

The looks on their faces is something I won’t soon forget. The only sounds were our flags snapping in the wind and the sound of crying, as numerous people were overcome with emotion at the sight of our tribute.

The funeral director asked 8 of our riders (who had the largest flags mounted to their motorcycles) to lead the funeral procession to the church on the outside of town. The rest of us fell into formation at the rear of the procession.

As we made our way through town, every car on the road pulled to the side. People came out of their homes and businesses and stood with their hands over their hearts. The local fire department had their flag at half mast, and when we passed, they stood at attention while Pfc Priest’s body moved past them.

The most emotionally difficult part of the mission for me was driving by Smithville High School, were Tina had graduated from just two years ago. As we rode past the school, a large number of students and teachers stood out front beneath the half-mast flag and held their hands above their hearts for their lost school mate.

At the cemetery, we once again formed up in two rows behind the casket, unfurled our flags, and stood in silent watch over the ceremony, which was presided over by Brigadier Geneneral John Campbell from Ft. Hood, Tx.

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When the services were nearly complete, General Campbell made his way over to our formation and shook the hands of each and every Patriot Guard Rider, thanking us for our service. It was humbling and an honor — but General, the real thanks goes to you and the Soldiers that you command.

When the funeral was over, General Campbell made his way back over to our group, asked us to gather around him, and shared some wonderful words with us about the meaning of service and sacrafice. I heard more than one Patriot Guard Rider comment that they would proudly follow General Campbell into battle — I share their sentiment.

When the General was finished talking to us (he even held a question and answer session with us about the war), Pfc Priest’s twin sister, Danielle, approached us and asked if she could say a few words. Through her tears she thanked us for honoring her sister, told how much of an impact we had on her and her family, and how much they appreciated our presence.

Once again, I was humbled and proud.

The last person to approach us was one of the funeral directors, who wanted to let us know that there was a reception back at the church. He said they had plenty of food, and would be honored if we would come back to town and share lunch with the community.

Another humbling moment, but nothing made me feel better about what we were doing then a conversation I had with a PFC who was part of the Color Guard.

This young PFC (who already wore a combat patch on his right shoulder) told me that he felt reassured seeing us standing our post outside the church and then again at the cemetery. He said that if his “number was called”, it made him feel better knowing that we’d be there for him and his family, too.

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Words can barely convey how powerfully emotional this mission was for me, but how important it was for us to be there. I hope I don’t have to attend another, but I know that if I’m called again, I’ll be ready.

As for my fellow riders yesterday — a damned finer group of Americans you’d be hard pressed to find. It was an honor to ride with each and every one of you.

Posted by Robbie Cooper on Friday, March 10th, 2006 | Trackback |