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Today Opelika’s Sgt. Christopher Taylor of the 1st Battalion, 41st Field Artillery, 1st Brigade Combat Team, 3rd Infantry Division from St. Stewart, KIA Balad, Iraq was laid to rest. A fallen warrior has returned home.I was running late trying to get to Opelika. The dogs chose today to strut their stuff and it was ten after one before Brag and I were shoving them into their box. I still had to go to Phenix City, shower and get to Opelika before two thirty. I made it with five minutes to spare. I had no idea what kind of post this would end up being. I wondered if I would have to scold you for misbehaving. I wondered if people would show up. I’m sorry I doubted you. People lined Fox Run Road, they lined the road the church was on. Everyone had American flags. Little flags, big flags. I had bought two extra on Friday to make sure I had a couple to give to any kids I saw without one. I could have saved that money. Everybody seemed t be passing out flags and signs in support of Sgt Taylor. The protestors, Phelp’s group of gay hating America bashers were in their small pen on the opposite side of the road from the Greater Peace Baptist Church. They chanted their hate America slogans and held aloft their signs, but for the most part were ignored. People, flags in hand would stroll past looking curiously at them before moving on to join the hundreds in paying tribute to Sgt. Christopher Taylor. As the family pulled up to the intersection to turn into the church parking lot, a group of people carrying American flags moved into the intersection blocking the families view of the protestors. The pathetic group, less than ten strong, could only try to hold their signs up to taunt the family, but they were lost in the sea of Red White and Blue. I moved to Fox Run Road after the protestors left, to join the others in paying tribute as Sgt Taylor was moved to his final resting place in the Motts Cemetery. I strolled both sides of the road that was lined with cars and flag carrying people patiently waiting for the possession to pass. After a hour and a half, word was passed down the line they were on the way. As the hearse and cars bearing the family came into the intersection, men removed their hats and held them over their hearts, a line of women softly sang God bless America, then Amazing Grace. The words floated up the hillside to where I stood. There was no other sounds, just silent respect for a fallen warrior.
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