Welcome Home, Lance Corporal Travis Wichlacz

Touching down tonight at Mitchell Int'l Airport on a flight from Minneapolis, we heard the flight attendant make an unusual announcement. "When we come to a full stop, please remain in your seats. We have a Marine accompanying a soldier wounded in the Iraq war on this flight." When the plane stopped, those of us in coach craned our necks to see the first class section. We saw a Marine in uniform exit the plane.

Several people stood and began to retrieve their bags from the overhead bins. Something made me stay in my seat.

An elderly gentleman seated across the aisle leaned over to me and spoke in a quiet voice, "There's a hearse parked outside. He must have been bringing the body home. It must be that young man from West Bend."

"That must be the hardest job in the world," I replied.

Suddenly, it didn't seem important to be the first person off the plane.

I stepped across the aisle and sat at the window. An Honor Guard made up of six Marines, in full dress uniform, stood at attention and began a slow march in formation towards the plane. They lifted a flag-draped wooden box and slowly loaded it into the hearse. Standing in the cold, in the dark, on the snowy tarmac, they saluted their lost brother.

Those of us still on the plane sat quietly for a moment and then left.