Patriotism; it’s a word that’s tossed around quite often these days and it comes in many forms. There are people here in the United States who are supportive of America’s war effort in Iraq. Their act of patriotism may be a simple act of prayer for those serving on the front lines. Many others gain a sense of patriotism from sending care packages to soldiers abroad. Others participate in welcome home parades and similar events for soldiers returning home from the war. To some, just the act of voting once every four years satiates their patriotic desires.
U.S. Army SPC4 Will Howell is a patriot in the most un-tossed sense of the word. At just 24 years of age, he’s seen action in Iraq on two combat tours. While home for almost two years, he has worked as a professional Fire Fighter for the Quinlan, Texas Fire and Rescue Department. Today Howell is a soldier once again. As I write this article, Will is back on his way to Iraq for a third tour. His departure this time however, was different. The night before leaving, Will’s family gave him what he thought was his going away party. But the Quinlan Fire and Rescue Department had other plans for a public send-off, which included members of numerous surrounding cities’ Fire Departments, law enforcement, local citizens…and the Patriot Guard Riders.
The Patriot Guard Riders of Texas were asked by his family to participate in SPC4 Howell’s departure event. Our mission for several months has been to support the families of military members killed in action in the current war on terrorism. We have also carried out funeral missions for veterans of World War II as well as the wars in Korea and Vietnam. Howell’s family offered us a rare opportunity to participate in a non-death related escort. When my Deputy State Captain contacted me, I jumped at the opportunity to serve as the Ride Captain for what was deemed an “unofficial mission”.
A suitable staging area in Quinlan was selected, notices were sent to the local PGR distribution lists for north and east Texas, and necessary contacts were made with the Quinlan and other Fire Departments and law enforcement agencies along the planned route to DFW. All we needed was cooperative weather and riders to show.
Mother Nature did her part and provided us with a clear day. Riders on bikes adorned with the usual large American flags started rolling in and a crowd quickly gathered. A Quinlan FD dispatcher with whom I coordinated the escort arrived shortly thereafter and was frantically working to confirm the escort plans. Will was having breakfast in a nearby restaurant and they were trying to keep him from driving by the growing crowd in the parking lot and spoiling the surprise. By 10:00am, there were 37 bikes, a dozen cages, numerous fire department trucks, and a couple of hundred people staged in anticipation of Howell’s arrival. A Life Flight helicopter even landed in the parking lot among the bikes and cages. A veteran himself, the pilot said he wanted the opportunity to personally salute SPC4 Howell before he left.
Promptly at 10:15, a very surprised Will Howell arrived and was greeted by a cheering crowd of well-wishers. If he wasn’t surprised, he delivered an Oscar-worthy performance of overwhelming emotion as he hugged his mother. I don’t know why I was surprised at his being overcome with emotion. I see similar displays from big, burly, tough biker types all the time at PGR missions. Built like a soldier, Will is a big, strapping, tough-looking guy with some menacing-appearing tattoos. And yet, his mother made it clear to the crowd that she could still spank his butt if he needed it; albeit with a step stool. Howell shook a hundred hands, received a dozen hugs, and continued to fight back the tears. The PGR presented him with the Texas challenge coin and a 3x5 PGR flag. Will told me he would have it signed by the soldiers in his unit in Iraq and return it. I told him if he wanted to bring it back, I would accept it when we completed his escort in the opposite direction in eighteen months.
Time was short. Howell was due at the airport by noon. We snapped a few photos and mounted up for the sixty-mile ride to DFW. Will hopped in back of a pickup truck among dozens of bikes with roaring motors as the sirens on the Fire Department trucks and Sheriff’s Department cruisers screamed. The procession slowly rode through town past crowds of waving friends and local citizens holding signs and waving American flags. Somehow Reagan and her staff managed to inform the town of the event without Will catching wind of it. We continued to see well-wishers with flags on overpasses as far as fifty miles away.
As the procession leaving the town of Quinlan, the lead fire truck peeled off and our escort was then led by a Royse City Fire Department engine. Along the route, the Life Flight helicopter soared just above us, swooping in and out and finally dipping its nose in a salute of respect as we continued westward.
We arrived at DFW Airport and were treated to curbside parking at the terminal - arranged by PGR member who is a volunteer at the DFW USO. Our timing couldn’t have been more fortunate. As we were wishing Will our best, a large group of soldiers was manifesting for a mass departure for Kuwait and on to Iraq and we were privileged to line up and greet them as they made their way through the terminal. Many were riders and came out to see, sit on, and for a few, even ride the bikes parked out front.
I headed back home with the events and emotions of the day running through my mind as they always do following a mission. As I rode on, it occurred to me that the emotional equivalent to irony is bittersweet. On one hand, we were saddened to see these proud young men and women heading off to war; many of them for their second, third, and even fourth tours. We hope that each and every one of them will come home safe, but we know all to well the reality of war. On the other hand, we are happy for the opportunity to see them off, ensuring they know there are people here who support them. We are proud to shake their hands, to hug them, and to wish them our best.
As Patriot Guard Riders, we don’t get to choose whether a mission is a sad one or a happy one. We simply stand tall and silent whenever we are called, and this is the definition of patriotism that applies to us.