Free 166 Days: My Journey Through The Darkness by Jennifer Clark

up waiting, we watched the color guard practice over and over again to make sure they had their job down flawlessly. I watched them stand at parade rest and a senior NCO walked behind them and checked their pant legs were properly bloused and their hands behind their backs were all at the same level and looked exactly the same. He brushed off their uniforms and made sure their hats were on straight. Every small detail was important.
    A cordon was formed of the soldiers who worked closely with the deceased that led from the flight line to the rear of the C-130 that would be flying him home. I looked at the plane and noticed the flight crew sweeping the floor and straightening the bay and lastly hanging an American flag facing outside. The pallbearers consisted of the members on his team who were not injured. They wore their green berets and white gloves and their duty uniforms. As I watched them standing there waiting on their friend I noticed not a word was spoken between them. They had blank stares on their faces, trying not to show any emotion at such a hurtful time. The band members lined up to the right of the cordon and prepared their instruments while a soldier with a bagpipe stood 100 meters down the flight line, alone at parade rest waiting for the vehicles.
    As the vehicles turned onto the flight line the soldier with the bagpipe snapped to position and began playing “Amazing Grace”. As we stood there listening, I became overwhelmed with emotion for someone I had never met. Tears welled up in my eyes as the vehicle slowly passed in front of me. I was honored to be present for the heartfelt ceremony sending him home. The HMMWV that carried his casket drove past us and parked just to the side of the pallbearers. They stood at attention until it reached a complete stop and ceremoniously took their friend from the bed of the vehicle and slowly marched up through the cordon to the plane. As they did the band began to play with the bagpipes. Once they lowered the casket, they stepped off the plane and the door slowly closed. As we walked back to our camp I was speechless with emotion. It was a beautiful tribute, yet I never wanted to see another one again.
     
    1 June 2008
    At 0900 the memorial service was given for our fallen friend. We listened to the invocation and opening remarks by the presiding two-star General. Then each of his team members spoke about memories of their good friend. They talked about his personality, his work ethic, and his wife and two sons he left behind. It was heartbreaking to listen to these men, who are the toughest of the tough, men who were fearless to face any battle, break down into tears in front of hundreds of people.
    I couldn’t imagine the loss they must have felt. These guys worked together on these teams for years and years and became a family. They saw and did things no one outside of their own team could truly understand. When all the speeches were finished, we prayed again and then a roll call commenced. It was started by the senior ranking officer of the battalion who called the names of the team members. Each soldier replied with a “Here Sir!” until he reached the name of the deceased. He called his name and waited; he called again and waited, and then again one last time.
    After the final failure of response, the ceremony closed with a 21 gun salute. The music began to play and a line formed, filled with people who wished to pay their respects, which was headed by the men on his team. The line led to the front of the flagpoles which had his boots, weapon, helmet, dog tags, and several pictures of him honorably displayed.
    Before I got in line, I stood and watched the team say one last goodbye. They marched up in pairs and stopped six feet in front of his belongings, saluted, and proceeded forward. When they arrived in front of his things, they took a knee and had a moment of silence. One of the guys reached forward and grabbed his friend’s dog tags and instantly