Each day the Christopher Smith family placed a marble in a jar, counting the days their son was deployed in Afghanistan. Less than twenty lined the bottom of the jar when two military officers arrived at their doorstep. Marine Lance Corporal Zachary Smith, 19, and three comrades were killed by a roadside bomb in the Helmand Providence.
It is miserable Saturday afternoon with blowing snow and temperatures in the teens as an honor guard gingerly lifts Zach’s remains off a plane in Rochester, New York. His teenage wife, Anne, looks on, numb by both the elements and emptiness. High school sweethearts, a uniformed Zach accompanied her to the Homecoming celebrations. Christopher and Kim Smith stare at the flag draped casket, wondering if anything will ever fill the hole within them.
A procession begins on the interstate toward home – Hornell, sixty miles south. A state trooper leads, followed by the Dagon Funeral Home hearse, and a bus. So many relatives and friends wanted to be there, someone acquired the necessary vehicle. A solemn military officer rides shotgun in the hearse… He joined Zach at Dover Air Force Base Morgue and will stay with him until the burial.
Hornell is in Steuben County in what is called the Southern Tier. The town of 10,000 rose and fell with the fortunes of the New York & Erie Railroad. Staggering in a 1972 recession, the railway was literally wiped out by Hurricane Agnes. Alstom, a local maker of rail and subway cars, slowly withers driving unemployment to NY’s highest. Despite the systemic economic blight the community spirit is fervent. Somehow they scrape together the funds for athletic cleats or band woodwinds. The undergraduates on Zach’s football team recently won the state championship. A middle school auditorium is packed shoulder-to-shoulder for a holiday concert.
More state trooper cars join the procession. Christopher is both a veteran and a state trooper. His colleagues feel the loss. Some, as they turn on their flashers, thank God for sparing their own sons or pray for those that remain in harm’s way. Passing trucks flash and honk in respect. Overhead passes in the sub-zero wind chill are lined with well wishers with signs. “Zach We Love You.” “Zach We Are Proud of You.” “Zach Thank You.”
Zach’s old coach describes him as someone, “who brought a smile to everyone’s face,” The coach adds, “He is not one that will be define by his deeds or achievements, but how he treated others.”
The procession turns into Hornell. The town is in the Canisteo Valley, surrounded by white hills. During the autumn, when Zach last walked its streets, hundreds of maple trees project a kaleidoscope of color. This day, as evening falls, its citizens line the route and bow their heads as the hearse passes. Despite a relatively high percentage of its youth joining the military, Zach is the first local casualty of the Iraq-Afghanistan conflicts. The mayor says, “This is a tragedy for his family, but also the community. His death really rocked the foundations of Hornell.”
Zach rests at the Dagon Funeral Home. Burial is Wednesday where the local schools will close in his honor. Younger sister Grace, who is a gifted musician, rejoined the cast of upcoming production of ‘Charlie and the Chocolate Factory.” Still numb with sadness and the strangeness of the loss, the show must go on. How are the rest of the Smiths – a teen widow and grieving parents – every going to find a semblance of peace? Most likely their Hornell neighbors will be there for them, and themselves, long after Taps echoes across the grave stones. They all feel the loss. They know hardship requires joining hands. Hornell will heal as a community.
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Mark,
This is a beautifully poignant piece. Thank you for the stark reminder of the human tragedy of war. My heavy heart goes out to the Smith family.
P