The mission is complete. SSgt David Stewart has arrived with his family now and we have left them in peace.
I want to share with you my brothers and sisters, my thoughts after completing this Honor ride for a fallen warrior. This morning around 0550, I met up with the Strength and Honor MC at the Cracker Barrel on Rt 234 in Dumfries; right by my house. About 25 riders showed up and we jumped on I-95 north to the rest stop at mile marker 155. A short time later, Stafford County Sherriff Motor Cops showed up and we headed out with around 120 bikes in tow; destination, Dover Delaware AFB 130 miles away.
SSgt Stewart grew up here in Stafford county and joined the Marine Corp in 2004; following in his dad’s footsteps. I met Nelson, David’s dad last night and had a few beers with him, David’s uncle and brother. Within a few minutes I knew that his family had not simply lost a loved one, but America had lost a man who has made a difference. David has a beautiful wife and two kids. He did three tours in Iraq and was on his second tour in Afghanistan when his truck struck a land mine on June 20th,killing him and two young Marines. The entire family is worthy of my admiration and I say that Nelson has a lot to do with that after meeting him. They bid us good night at the club house and we wouldn’t see them till we got back in Stafford County on the return trip.
The trip over to Dover was nice with the morning temp staying cool. An oncoming car hit a bird just ahead of me and the carcass missed me by inches I was later told. I was told this by the rider behind and right of me who was lucky enough to catch the bird in the face. With the cops leading us, we stayed under the speed limit. This is where I learned that riding with Harleys is actually good for my mileage as I got around 45 MPG whereas by myself I usually get much less.
Once we arrived at Dover AFB, we gassed up and staged just outside the base. A local fellow identified himself as “Big Wendell”, president of some local MC and asked why we were there as he didn’t recognize the SHMC cut. One of the patch wearers said we are here to bring a warrior home to his family. By now just over 200 bikes had showed up so I guess Big Wendell was going to let it slide this time…
At 12:15, we mounted up and joined in the Delaware State police, local Sherriff and Police department along with our own Sheriffs. As soon as we got under way, I noticed people stopping and getting out of their cars with either a salute as we passed or their hands over their hearts. I doubt any of them knew who we were escorting, but seeing them stand with honor moved me. But it didn’t stop there just outside the base. As we rolled through the country side and the small towns all through Delaware, people lined the lanes with flags and waves like we were in a parade. I felt good about my country.
Soon, we passed into Maryland and were greeted by more well wishers every few miles standing along the roads to pay their respects for a fallen American. I was moved. As we turned south from HWY 50 onto 301, we passed through a major population area with many businesses. As we rode past one car dealership, they let go a slew of red, white and blue balloons; I was moved. The guy next to me was moved too, I watched as he lifted his glasses to wipe his eyes.
I was near the front of the procession and could see bikes behind me as far as I could see. Signs along the road said, “God Bless you SSgt Stewart” and “Thank You SSgt Stewart, RIP”; I was moved.
I saw this behavior all through Maryland for two hours as we rode slowly along. Cops and firefighters stood blocking the intersections and saluted as we passed; again I was moved. Every so often I would see a man dressed in his services Dress Blues, Sailors, Soldiers, Airmen and Marines; some young, some elderly; all saluting as we road by. My countrymen are giving me hope for our future this day; I was moved.
By now the sun was high and hot with no clouds to shade us. I knew I was sunburned on my face and arms but I also knew that was nothing compared to what the Stewart family is feeling. I was concerned that other riders were going to be dehydrated though and watched those around me as best I could. Luckily, only one guy going over had to pull out for health reasons and only one bike broke, one of the volunteers that no one knew. His sprocket let go but the prospect in the chase vehicle picked them both up and continued. On this portion of the trip, no one dropped out. Strength of purpose does that I suppose.
With the police escort, we had no tolls to worry about and no stops either. This trip was long and taking its toll out on me, but I got a boost every time I saw another person waving to us or a pair of fire trucks with their ladders above the road flying the Flag between them. This happened a lot too.
As we rode up and over the Harry Nice Bridge into Virginia on 301, I could see a huge group of people on the Virginia side. As we got closer, I was overwhelmed at just how many folks were there waiting on the SSgt to come home. Navy Base Dahlgren is just on the left of the highway and the fence line was full of people with flags and signs; and again I was moved. Military personnel were stopped on their way home and stood outside their cars saluting; and I was moved. By now, the roadside was full of people all through town; so many flags, so many heartfelt gestures. As we passed back into rural area, farmers stood by the road and welcomed SSgt Stewart home.
We turned on to Rt 3 and headed towards Fredericksburg. People were everywhere as we approached Stafford County. As we topped the last hill and looked down towards the county line, I saw police lining the roadside standing at attention and saluting. Shortly inside the county we came to a stop and linked up with the Stewart family who were awaiting us along the roadside. All the way from here to the funeral home in Stafford, the county folk had turned out to pay their respects to the family. It was hard to see the bike in front of me as I was moved once more.
Stafford County had lost one of their own and they knew it. People who did not know the family still knew that a local hero had returned; had fought the good fight and run the good race. The people here don’t let their servicemen and women go unnoticed; the family knows they are loved even by total strangers. Their only bond is being from this area; that is enough.
Four hours after we left Dover and now 182 miles by this route, we finally arrive and park. There are so many of us that the parking lot is full. The funeral director came over to us to express his own gratitude at seeing the group who came together on a Friday to escort this man home. Even he was moved and his voice cracked.
This link has a News video of the ride through Maryland on Rt 301:
http://www.nbcwashington.com/news/l...Fallen-Marine-Back-to-Virginia-264872851.html
I said my good-byes and left to get gas, rolling in on fumes. As I hit the road home, it began to rain. It was welcomed and refreshing. Now it’s time for fresh corn on the cob and some Tamarind soup thanks to my pretty pillion who was anxiously waiting for my return.
