Last Flight Home

I wrote this column while I was serving in Afghanistan. One of my readers requested I post some of these. I will post one of these from time to time.

I flew into Bagrahm Air Base, like so many of my fellow soldiers entering this area of Afghanistan.  It was my job to ensure that all our soldiers were pushed out to their perspective bases.  This made me one of the last individuals to depart this destination.  I had to fly to my base on a helicopter extremely early that day.  It was cold gray February and I stood outside the PAX terminal.  A gentle mist filled the air as I hovered under the eaves of a building to smoke.  I chatted with several of the other Senior NCOs.  It was small talk.  Nothing of importance was said.  It was that nervous talk that all soldiers do when you are bored or nervous.

            We were about to light our second smokes when the intercom system for the base came to life.  For soldiers, that is a bad sign.  These systems are used to warn us of dark circumstances.  We all froze waiting.  Was there an attack?  It was worse.  The voice announced that a “Ramp Ceremony” was to begin.  This was far worse news than a rocket or mortar attack.  A “Ramp Ceremony” is the final respects paid to a fallen comrade.  IT meant that we had lost another soldier and that they were making their final trip home. 

Military and civilian personnel began to pour from the buildings.  Everyone began lining the streets along the route that the funeral procession would take.  A gentle silence settled over the base.  A few of the younger soldiers started to complain about standing out in the weather.  They were quickly silenced by looks from several of us older soldiers.  We knew that this could be any of us.  The young ones still thought they were invincible.  That would change by the time they left this country.

We all took a station on the edge of the road, standing at parade rest.  Many of the soldiers were standing in ankle deep water.  The mist had changed to a steady rain.  The heavens seemed to weep at this moment.  I thought of home and my family waiting for my body to be brought to them while I stood there.  I could only imagine the pain of my wife standing there with my two small children, as they brought my flag draped coffin off the plane.

It wasn’t long before the vehicles turned the corner, heading in our direction.  Each soldier came to attention and rendered a salute as the vehicle neared.  They held that position, until all four vehicles passed.  A lump caught in my throat as it passed in front of me.  There were two coffins in the back.  Each was draped with the Polish flag.  Six of their country men sat in the vehicle with them, three to each side.  These weren’t my countrymen.  They were my fellow soldiers and allies.  I said a prayer for their souls and their families.

The vehicles entered the airfield and disappeared from sight.  The crowd dispersed.  No one talked and joked like usually happens when that many people gather together.  Several of us older Vets looked at one another, tears held back.  There was nothing else to do, so went lit up another smoke.  It wasn’t long before our silence was broken by a young soldier.  This had to be his first deployment.  He didn’t look old enough to be out of school. 

“Why’d we do that for them, Sarge? They ain’t even Americans,” he asked.

I was ready to yell at the kid when an old grizzled man stepped up.  He was a civilian that was passing out coffee to all of us.  He handed each of us a steaming fresh cup. His eyes teared up as he spoke to the young soldier.

“It’s simple son.  Those boys came here to do the same job you are doing.  That could be you in one of those boxes as easy as it could be them.  You pay respect to the way they lived, hoping someone would do the same for you.” He then simply turned around and disappeared into the crowd.

I’ve been to more “Ramp Ceremonies” since then.  Some of them were for U.S. soldiers.  The others were for British and Canadian.  They all hit me hard.  I don’t think that will ever change. I still look for that older gentleman whenever I fly to that air base.  There is a need to thank him for his words.  I may never get the chance.  But, I hope someone will do it for me if I can’t.