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Taking Chance homeβ¦. Eight days later, I handed the medallion to his mother. Today, I miss him. Over a year ago, I volunteered to escort the remains of Marines killed in Iraq should the need arise.
The military provides a uniformed escort for all casualties to ensure they are delivered safely to the next of kin and are treated with dignity and respect along the way. The first few weeks of April, however, had been a tough month for the Marines. The major said the funeral was going to be in Dubois, Wyoming.
It turned out that PFC Phelps only lived in my hometown for his senior year of high school. I had never been to Wyoming and had never heard of Dubois. First thing on Wednesday we reported to the mortuary at the base. Now, at Dover with nothing to do and a solemn mission ahead, I began to get depressed. I was wondering about Chance Phelps. I wondered about his family and what it would be like to meet them. On Thursday morning I reported back to the mortuary. This time there was a new group of Army escorts and a couple of the Marines who had been there Wednesday.
There was also an Air Force captain there to escort his brother home to San Diego. We received a brief covering our duties, the proper handling of the remains, the procedures for draping a flag over a casket, and of course, the paperwork attendant to our task. We were shown pictures of the shipping container and told that each one contained, in addition to the casket, a flag.
This way they would each get one. It barely fit into my suitcase. It turned out that I was the last escort to leave on Thursday. This meant that I repeatedly got to participate in the small ceremonies that mark all departures from the Dover AFB mortuary.