Staff Sgt. Kristofer Raymond Ciraso, 26, of Bangor, Maine, died of injuries suffered when an improvised explosive device detonated near his military vehicle in Baghdad, Iraq, on Dec. 7. Ciraso was assigned to the 1st Battalion, 5th Cavalry Regiment, 2nd Brigade Combat Team, 1st Cavalry Division, Fort Hood, Texas.

On Monday, December 18, SSG Ciraso will be buried at the Central Texas State Veterans Cemetery in Killeen, TX.

The Patriot Guard Riders were asked by the Ciraso family to help escort SSG Ciraso home from the airport in Austin to the funeral home 68-miles away in Lampasas, TX last night.

I joined 42 other PGR riders near the cargo terminals at Austin-Bergstrom International Airport last night around 7:00 p.m.

The American Airlines flight carrying SSG Ciraso wasn’t scheduled to land until 8:25 p.m., but arriving early gave us a good opportunity to meet and talk with the Honor Guard soldiers from Ciraso’s unit as well as the Ciraso family who was waiting with us.

Because of airport security and the logistics of bringing so many motorcycles out onto a busy airport tarmac, only 16 bikes were allowed to ride out to the airplane with the police escort, the hearse, and the military honor guard. I was honored to be one of those 16 bikes.

Riding silently across the airport tarmac in the middle of night, crossing runways and cruising amongst parked airliners was a surreal experience. I’m sure the sight from the concourse windows was an unusual spectacle as well.

As we approached Gate 14, the hearse backed up to the cargo hold, and we lined up our bikes parrallel to the body of the plane, about 50′ behind the hearse. We had loaded up one of the airport service trucks with 3′ x 5′ American flags on 10′ poles. We formed a flag line in front of our bikes as they prepared to unloade SSG Ciraso’s casket.

I watched the small windows of the airplane. Many of the passengers had started to de-board the plane, seemingly unaware of what was taking place on the tarmac beneath them. But slowly, each window became filled with a face who seemed to know and understand what was taking place.

I glanced up at the concourse windows, and noticed that a large crowd was gathering as more-and-more people realized that a Soldier was coming home.

The caskets of all US soldiers are packed in a white cardboard box (with a picture of an American flag draped over the top) during air transportation. Before the family arrives, the honor guard goes through the procedure of removing the cardboard box and redraping the American flag over the casket. It is only at this point that the vans carrying the family arrived at the gate.

I realize that the family — there were probably 15 family members present — has not seen their loved one since he left for the war. I’ve been to a lot of military funerals this year, and the crying of a grieving widow or the sobs of their children are hard to bear. I forget that by the time of the funeral, most of the family has had at least several days to process and deal with the sight of the casket.

But as they approach the casket, I’m not prepared for the emotional outburst from a family seeing the casket for the first time. To this point, the family has only had the words from the Casualty Assistance Officer (CAO) that their loved one has died. They have only had their own shared grief as a family. But now, on this cold tarmac in the middle of the night, in a city 2200 miles from their own homes in Maine, they finally have their dead son, brother, father, and husband home. They can see and touch what before they could only imagine.

The people watching from the airplane windows and concourse can obviously see the anguish of the family, who are sobbing into each other’s arms and into their hands. They are spared the sounds of that grief, though. There is no sound more painful than two small children screaming for their uncle, or the near hysterical sobbing of a widow. I cried as I watched as Mr. Ciraso held his wife as she sobbed.

Looking back at the airplane windows above us, I can see the passengers sharing in the family’s grief, as almost everyone is wiping tears from their eyes repeatedly.

Once the casket was loaded into the hearse by the honor guard, we returned to your bikes and waited to pull away. The family walked a few feet in front of me on their way back to the van, and I’ll never forget the sight of the two young kids — a boy about 5 or 6 years old, and his little sister who looked to be about 3 — walking away from their uncle’s casket. The little boy was walking with his arms around his little sister trying to comfort her.

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The Austin Police Department once again provided a large and dedicated motorcycle police escort detail for the escort to Lampasas. The entire freeway was shutdown, and we had the roads all to ourselves as we made our way through Cedar Park, then Leander and Liberty Hill. Local police in Cedar Park shut down the busy intersections as we passed through their small town, the officers standing at attention as the procession passed.

I didn’t get home from the escort mission until almost 1:00 a.m. this morning. I was cold and tired, and completely emotionally exhausted. Once again, I am proud to ride with such amazing patriots and citizens — people who will ride for hours and many miles in the cold of night — time spent away from their own families — to honor a fallen soldier.

Posted by Robbie Cooper on Friday, December 15th, 2006 | Trackback |