The lovely and talented and downright sexy Mrs. Hook and I entered the modest post chapel to the melodic sounds of bagpipes softly playing over the PA system. We were escorted to our seats by a Soldier smartly dressed in his Class ‘A’ uniform, complete with awards and badges earned, expertly aligned above his breast pocket. We slid into the wood pew, one of several giving the chapel a seating capacity of 500, and waited as others continued to arrive.
They all arrived within minutes of each other to the parking lot just outside the post’s main gate, several cars packed with members of the congregation, most traveling from several hours away. Filing out of the cars, they greeted one another warmly with hugs and handshakes in the spirit of fellowship.
Recognizing fellow comrades-in-arms sitting in adjacent pews, we exchanged a few nods of recognition and understanding when the Chaplain took the podium announcing the momentary start of the service. The now silent chapel was interrupted by the shuffling sound of some 700 Soldiers and family members standing almost simultaneously as the surviving family of the two fallen heroes entered the chapel and took their seats in the front pew. We stood in honor of those left behind by the very heroes we had all come to honor in memoriam. Two Soldiers, Sergeants, Sons, Husbands, Dads, Crewchiefs, Medics, Americans, Men, two Heroes had paid the ultimate price in defense of freedom. They died in Iraq while serving a higher cause, serving this nation, serving the greater good. They died not in vain.
Many of the churchgoers were dressed in their best holey t-shirts and tattered jeans as they opened their trunks and began pulling out colorful signs three and four feet tall, signs filled with messages of hate, filth, and bile. The Westboro Baptists smiled and sang as they waved said signs at cars entering and exiting the Army post.
Comrades of the fallen Soldiers shared stories and memories of the two men and their commitment to duty, family, and country. Their Company Commander talked of how painful it was to write the letters of condolences to the surviving families, most difficult to the 5-year old son of one of the fallen. The Battalion Command Sergeant Major called the unit roll and on two occasions, there was no answer each time the names of the deceased Soldiers was called. From outside the chapel could be heard the sound of rifles firing a volley in saltue to the fallen heroes. Then this old soldier felt a lump in his throat and held back tears in his eyes as a lone bugler belted out Taps.
Taps
A passing Soldier stopped his car outside the gate and confronted the Westboro Baptists, challenging them to define good and evil. Others stopped to join in the argument, shocked, enraged, embarassed by the hatred they witnessed outside the gate. It wasn’t long before the Military Police arrived to clean up the bile.
As each of the several hundred attendees slid out of their pew, they solemly approached the altar upon which stood a shrine consisting of two M4 carbines, bayonets affixed precisely set behind a twin set of desert tan boots and upon which hung a set of dog tags. Atop the stock of each weapon set an aviator’s helmet and at the foot of each stood a framed picture of Sergeant Jeffrey Brown and Sergeant Steven Mennemeyer, both dressed in their desert tan flight suits. Military members took an additional step closer to the shrine as their spouses waited, dabbing tear filled eyes while their Soldiers rendered a final, solemn hand salute to the two fallen heroes before them.
The bile slithered back into their cars and headed home, their sermon having fallen on deaf ears. I personally look forward to the day they meet their maker.
Filing out of the chapel, the members of this small community returned to their lives, taking care of their families and Soldiering on, ready to answer the call to duty, a call greater than themselves, a call that guarantees freedom of speech and religion for the congregation of the Westboro Baptists. A call that all know may have to be answered with the ultimate sacrifice.
I’ll see you on Fiddler’s Green Sergeants Brown and Mennemeyer, America is grateful for men like you and forever in debt to your families. This We’ll Defend. Sgt Hook out.
Posted by Hook @ 2316 zulu | | Permalink
This post is filed under: Heroes & Homefront
