A Hero's Final Flight
I recently witnessed a hero’s final flight. On this Memorial Day, I want to be sure to pause and remember the service of this soldier and others who have laid down their lives for our nation.
May we never forget “the last full measure of devotion” given by those men and women for us.
Headed Home
Truth be told, I don’t actually know much about this hero. I wish I did. I was on his plane because I was headed home at the end of a work trip in Dallas.
Admittedly, my eyes were heavy during the usual pre-flight announcements. I do usually try to at least look like I’m paying attention. I figure maybe it’s a little moral support for the flight attendants. But this time I felt extra tired. I had heard every word of this script many times before, and I was ready for a break.
My weary mind was also a bit distracted as the couple seated next to me scrolled through their Instagram feeds—volume on. It was soft and not really worth getting fixated on, but I hoped they would eventually don earbuds or cut the internet connection once we were airborne. They never did, but another announcement made that small annoyance irrelevant anyway.
After the routine safety demonstration was over, the pilot’s voice came on over the intercom. That’s not unusual, of course. I anticipated a preview of the weather at our next stop or maybe a prediction about how high we would be flying (really high is how it always sounds to me). We also might get a hint about how wise snacks would be on this leg of the journey. Turbulence and I are not the tightest of friends, after all.
But the pilot had a different announcement. Something much more important.
He told us that we had the honor of transporting a fallen soldier. A soldier who was also headed home.
A Salute of Thanks
When we landed at Ronald Reagan airport, just outside the nation’s capital, military personnel would be on hand to honor this hero with a dignified arrival, the pilot said. Out of respect we were asked to stay quiet and seated as preparations were made when we got to the gate.
How could we do any less?
My mind drifted to Lori McKenna’s song, “Two Soldiers Coming Home."
I wasn’t sitting in seat 12B, and, as far as I knew, we had only one soldier on board. But the lyrics struck me all the same:
Two soldiers coming home
Returning to their families
They've been away from them so long
There's gonna be some flags waving
Probably see some tear stained faces
By the grace of God, they made it home
Underscoring the significance of this trip, a number of fire trucks had lined up on our route to the runway. That was noteworthy on its own. More than that, though, I noticed they were launching plumes of water into the air as our aircraft passed. I had never seen an airport water salute like that before, and it was powerful reminder of the soldier’s sacrifice.
Again, I knew nearly nothing about this man. But I knew he had served our nation to the end.
And now we had the privilege of escorting him home.
Patriotic and Personal
This was indeed a patriotic honor. And that would have been enough.
However, it was more than that for me.
Like so many families, mine has been touched by war. One of my cousins also laid down his life for our land.
Two decades ago—has it been that long?
Two decades ago he was deployed abroad. He had enlisted in the Army and was called to serve among our boots on the ground in Iraq. U.S. forces had swiftly defeated the ruthless dictator, Saddam Hussein, but the violence continued. Tragically, my cousin’s unit was sabotaged by an “improvised explosive device.” Wicked men killed him with a cowardly booby trap.
My cousin was a man of faith. He knew Jesus, so now he is truly at rest. He understands the presence of the Lord in a way that is far more personal and powerful than anything of our minds can comprehend on this side of eternity. But while his soul was and is at peace, it was important for his body to be returned home. His parents needed that. His sister needed that. We all needed that.
My cousin’s flag-draped casket was flown home and greeted with a dignified arrival before being laid to rest with military honors. He was an American soldier, and he deserved that respect from us all.
As did the serviceman on my flight. As do all of our heroes who have fought and died for America.
The “honored dead” President Abraham Lincoln so rightly called them in his Gettysburg Address. Those who “gave the last full measure of devotion” for the dream of life and liberty that lives on as our star-spangled banner still waves.
Lincoln went on to urge us all to “highly resolve that these dead shall not have died in vain, that this nation, under God, shall have a new birth of freedom, and that government of the people, by the people, for the people, shall not perish from the earth.”
That challenge seems so big. But like all worthy goals, it is pursued one small step at a time. Little acts of American spirit add up.
That is why I was proud that my fellow passengers, even my still-scrolling neighbors, sat united in that moment at the gate. We shared in one simple act of devotion by paying quiet respect upon our arrival in DC. I was grateful, too, for the the opportunity to watch from the terminal as the honor guard ceremoniously welcomed our traveling companion’s casket.
It was a somber moment. A soul-stirring moment.
I watched as the soldier's family members departed—their kinsman home—and a tear trickled down my face. I could only breath out in a whisper, “Thank you.”
Photo by Dottie Di Liddo on Unsplash
