Moonwolf's Lair

It is said that the measure of a man is not so much by his deeds in life, but by how he is seen after he dies.

If that is true, Petty Officer Harris must have been a man I should regret never having met.

The Washington Post ran a story, back on September 3rd 2008, in which PO Harris’ mother described him as a “Renaissance Man”.  I never knew him, but if the ~400 people in attendance at his funeral today at Arlington National Cemetery are anything to go by, he was that and more.

But for me, he was a brother in arms, fallen defending me.  So it was, as always, a privilege and honour to be a part of everything at the end, to be invited by the family as part of the Patriot Guard Riders to show respect, honour, and gratitude.

I almost missed it, the schedule seemed to be brought forwards, my guess would be as a result of the huge number of people attending.  Up to a full company of SEALs were there in formation, and I swear, I’ve rarely seen that much brass in one place outside of the Pentagon before – including, I do believe, a 3-star Admiral.

I remember looking back towards the road while we were on the Line during the ceremony, and saw one lone woman standing there, all the way outside everything.  I don’t think she was “part” of the ceremony – she disappeared before the end – but she stood there for a good long time.

It was heart warming to think that another “passing stranger” saw the ceremony to honour a fallen hero, and stopped to take a moment out of their day to pay their respects to someone they didn’t know.

On the way out, I came up on a gentleman from Australia who was visiting the area.  He has family in Boston, and wanted to take advantage of being nearby to visit Arlington National Cemetery.  We chatted for a time as we both walked towards the exit, and I explained as best I could the purpose of PGR – he’d thought at first while the rest of the guys went roaring past him on their way out just before I encountered him if he’d walked into a Harley rally

Today was also the first time Dave “Silverback” got to see me in all my full 6’2″ tall glory, using my braces

I think I’ve finally “cracked” the problem of the sections at Arlington National Cemetery not being wheelchair-accessible, if I can take my braces.  If I know which section a ceremony is due to take place, I can leave the Admin Building staging area five minutes before everyone else, and wait down by the section.  once the bikes are there, I can park my Tank behind them, and shift to using the braces to walk to the Line.

I have to admit, it feels great to be able to truly stand for those we’re there to honour.

Of course, this does kind of depend on ANC making the section known in time for me to get there.  They’re not very forthcoming many times with the section.  To be honest, I don’t think they’ve ever considered the possibility someone in a wheelchair might want to go there, might want to go on the grass, and might need to get creative to be able to be part of everything independently.

The Admin Building is accessible, as are the “tourist” accessible sections, but wheelchair access isn’t a factor – as shown by one attendee today, who was in a wheelchair and needed a lot of assistance to get over the kerbs, and the grass.

But I can adapt and overcome obstacles, natural or man-made.  I will stand for those we are there to honour, if I have to crawl there to do it.

One thing that never leaves me, no matter how many PGR missions I do, is a sense of bewilderment at the end.  How do you handle a soldier, sailor, airman, or Marine coming up to you and thanking you for being there?  it should be us thanking them for allowing us to show our respects, thanking them for their service on our behalf.

I know that what we do is said by many to be such thanks, but still, it’s strange to be thanked just for doing “the right thing”.

Unfortunately, due to almost missing it, I wasn’t able to get any pictures of the PGR contingent at the Admin Building.

As always, my condolences and gratitude go to the family of this fallen hero, and my thanks for allowing us to be present to show our respect.