Building 1460, commonly known as the 7th Marines mess hall, was renamed Phelps Hall during a ceremony in front of the facility May 4. I was somewhat startled when I saw the shipping container, loaded three-quarters of the way in to the back of a black Chevy Suburban that had been modified to carry such cargo. In this world nothing is for sure except the love you can show at this very moment. This time the chains were not tangled. When the ceremony was over, Chance’s father placed a ribbon from his service in Vietnam on Chance’s casket. The funeral director had driven five hours up from Riverton, Wyoming to meet us. With no other passengers yet on board, I talked with the flight attendants and one of the cargo guys. I didn’t know how to express to these people my sympathy for their loss and my gratitude for their sacrifice.

I learned that they had worked through the night to groom and prepare the horses for Chance’s last ride. The major said the funeral was going to be in Dubois, Wyoming. With the announcement, all service members working at the mortuary, regardless of service branch, stop work and form up along the driveway to render a slow ceremonial salute as the hearse departs. She told me a representative from cargo would be up to take me down to the tarmac to observe the movement and loading of PFC Phelps.

The War is not a priority for Obama and liberals.I never cried at these funerals. It had been my honor to take Chance Phelps to his final post. This Private First Class, with less than a year in the Corps, had already earned six.The next morning, I wore my dress blues and followed the hearse for the trip up to Dubois. During the long trip I imagined how my meeting with Chance’s parents would go. Before she could finish another ticketing agent interrupted her. At one point they received fire from behind a wall and had neutralized the sniper with a SMAW round. As time passed, I began to hear people laughing. It had been his duty to inform the family of Chance’s death.

He was buried in Dubois, WY on 17 Apr 04. Now he was on the high ground overlooking his town.Hi! Eight days later, I handed the medallion to his mother. It was still set to Baghdad time. Taking Chance. God BlessLike many it takes a movie to show us all how real the war is. I waited with the soldier and we saluted together as his fallen comrade was loaded onto the plane.My trip with Chance was going to be somewhat unusual in that we were going to have an overnight stopover.

(It turned out that PFC Phelps only lived in my hometown for his senior year of high school.) I want to tell you how sorry I am for your loss. I felt that, as long as he was still moving, he was somehow still alive.Then they put him down above his grave. Now, in addition to words and handshakes, they were thanking me with beer. They seemed a little choked up as they led me to my seat.About 45 minutes into our flight I still hadn’t spoken to anyone except to tell the first class flight attendant that I would prefer water.

The pilot himself escorted me straight down the side stairs of the exit tunnel to the tarmac.

Instead, he drove me straight to the hotel himself. I found my car and joined Chance’s convoy.The town seemingly went from the gym to the street. He offered his sympathy to the family. On the table surrounding his photo were his Purple Heart citation and his Purple Heart medal. I had planned to find a quiet room where I could take his things out of their pouch and untangle the chain of the Saint Christopher medal from the dog tag chains and arrange everything before his parents came in. I was too young.