Death Comes to Tombstone

Saturday afternoon, 5 PM. Hundreds of soldiers in brown camoflauge uniforms form a U-shaped formation around a large asphalt apron just to the side of the runway at Camp Bastion. Most are British with some Dutch and Danes thrown in. A handful of American soldiers round out the gathering. The Regimental Sergeant-Major calls the gathering to attention as a propeller driven C-130 appears out of the blue sky in the middle distance. The plane descends, touches down and decreases its speed quickly as it passes the formation, taxiing to a spot further down the runway.

The group is given the "Stand At Ease" command. Eight bareheaded British soldiers appear and march slowly at half step to the middle of the assembled men carrying a simple wooden coffin wrapped in the Union Jack. They place it on two stands next to the unit commander, sergeant-major, and unit chaplain who stand in the middle of the tarmac facing the gathered soldiers. Prayers are recited, comments praising the quality of the young man in the coffin are given. A statement from the man's mother is read aloud. We come to attention again. The eight bareheaded British soldiers reappear and once more lift the coffin onto their shoulders and march at half step towards the back of the C-130 which has backed into the open end of the U formation, its rear ramp open and ready to receive its new cargo. The soldiers gently place their load in the plane's hold. This is the only cargo the plane will carry on this trip. The eight soldiers depart the plane and head back to their place in formation. The plane's ramp closes and the plane turns onto the runway and takes off. We stand at attention until the plane is aloft and has circled around again to pass over our formation. It banks slowly to the right and fades into the distance as we stand silently, each wrapped in his private thoughts.

Corporal Damian Lawrence of the 2nd Battalion, Yorkshire Regiment was killed in action on 17 February, 2008. He was born in 1983 and had a three year old daughter. I didn't know him, but I did know him. He was the soldier standing next to me in formation, he was the guard at our compound gate, he was the soldier eating dinner at the dining facility a few tables in front of me. He was one of US. He was killed in a small village called Kajaki in the middle of nowhere, thousands of miles from home. Soon the granite block at the base of the two flagpoles on FOB Tombstone will have his name inscribed on the metal plaque affixed to its top. His name will be kept company by the thirteen others who departed FOB Tombstone on missions and didn't come back.