Joy, sorrow mark soldier storiesLa Crosse Tribune
Date: Tuesday, December 20, 2005
Section: NEWS
Page: 1
Byline: By DAN SIMMONS
Last Wednesday, busloads of returning soldiers, boots still dusty with Iraqi sand, stepped gleefully onto fresh Wisconsin snow. Later that day, a hearse carried a flag-draped coffin down the same snowy road.
Two hundred eighty National Guard soldiers joyfully reunited with family and friends; a Marine will never see his family again.
The war had come home to Tomah.
These two soldier stories - a homecoming, a funeral - on the same day in the same town could turn the stoniest heart to mush. I saw and met the men and women in fatigues who fought the war, not the men in suits who run it. I described what I saw in two articles.
But I couldn't describe everything I wanted to, or the connection between the two stories. Two images stand out.
At the homecoming for the 1158th National Guard company out of Tomah, as the buses that would transport the soldiers for a homecoming parade through Tomah warmed up and other soldiers piled on, Spc. Kenny Fraser stood apart.
He was locked in a kiss with his wife, Rachel, that he'd waited a year to happen and wouldn't let quit.
"The bus is leaving," his mother, Shari Fraser of Black River Falls, Wis., screamed at him. But the kiss continued.
It reminded me of the famous photograph of a returning American sailor kissing a woman in Times Square at World War II's end. Pure joy.
That kiss culminated a reunion so festive it seemed like Christmas came early. The soldiers were all the family could want, more than they could ask for, and their joy at the sight of each other can't be described.
I thought of the Frasers' kiss the next day, at Highland Cemetery in Menomonie, Wis., where Marine Sgt. Andy Stevens, 29, was buried.
His mother hugged his gray casket, weeping, a final embrace she held for almost a minute. Same
intensity as the Frasers' kiss the day before. But for opposite reasons. Pure sorrow.
Her hug culminated a mournful day in which about 200 people packed a Lutheran church in Menomonie to say goodbye to Stevens, killed in Anbar province Dec. 1. His first funeral occurred Wednesday in Tomah.
A bagpiper began the Menomonie service with a dirge, dropping tears like rain down many faces.
Steven's sister, Amy Pelle, eulogized her brother as a lifelong soldier who marched her and other neighborhood kids around their Tomah neighborhood as an 8-year-old.
She remembered his conviction to fight for all Americans, particularly those in her high school who don't stand for the pledge of allegiance.
"I fight as much for their right to sit as your right to stand," she recalled him saying.
A Marine presented a Purple Heart, explaining to the congregation that it was first awarded by General George Washington in 1783.
At the cemetery, a bugler played taps on the hillside. A line of riflemen fired a salute. A Marine color guard displayed flags. Most in the crowd couldn't hold back their tears.
"That's okay (to shed tears)," said Bill Rice, the pastor of Stevens' church in Tomah. "God made us with tear glands . . . but we are not to mourn as if we had no hope."
His words seemed fitting for the day when war's cost and war's triumph intersected in a small Wisconsin town. The kiss of joy and the hug of sorrow put a human face to this war that I'll never forget.
Dan Simmons can be reached at (608)791-8217 or
dsimmons@lacrossetribune.com.
All content © La Crosse Tribune and may not be republished without permission.
A homecoming, a funeral, an election280 soldiers return to snowy Wisconsin before dawn after a year, and more than 2 million miles driven, in and around Iraq:
http://www.lacrossetribune.com/news/00lead.txtA bugler, a bagpiper, a line of riflemen and sobbing relatives say goodbye to a Marine at a snowy Wisconsin cemetery the same day millions march to the polls in the sands of Iraq:
http://lacrossetribune.com/articles/2005/12/16/news/00lead.txt
Coming home for ChristmasFor nearly three years, they took weekly road trips, in 49-ton, 50-wheeled trucks, on the world's most dangerous highways, while hauling tanks and semis, which fit easily on their trailers. Wednesday, they come home for Christmas and beyond. No dead, no wounded.
http://lacrossetribune.com/articles/2005/12/10/news/01troops.txt
