Brandon Maggart’s son Blake
SGT Brandon Maggart is a 24 year old soldier from Kirksville, MO. This was his second tour in Iraq. He was killed by insurgents on 22 Aug 2010. He left behind a young wife and son. He was posthumously awarded the Bronze Star.
Somehow, SGT Maggart has drawn the unwanted attention of the Westboro Baptist Church in Kansas. This is the group that has become infamous for desecrating the burial of our heroes. They will be picketing his funeral this evening in Kirksville. I understand that the Patriot riders will be on hand to shield the grieving family members from their protest.
Missourians will be gathering in support of SGT Maggart’s family along Hwy 63 on the route between his funeral and his burial site at the Missouri Veterans Cemetery in Jacksonville, MO where he will be buried with full honors.
Someone attending the event, choosing to remain anonymous, emailed us the following comment:
The wife and I packed up the girls and drove the hour or so to Macon tonight to be on SGT Maggart’s procession route between the funeral and burial site at the veteran’s cemetery. Macon is about a 30 minute drive from where his funeral was held and where Westboro would be protesting.
I was completely filled with apprehension about the entire deal. My wife had first suggested that we attend the night before and I was like, “Are you serious? Do you want your daughters to watch Daddy go to jail?”
I am not a big, tough guy and I’m not going to pretend to be, but I was really concerned about how I would react. I really didn’t think I could be in the presence of those animals shouting at a mother who is about to bury her son. I didn’t think I could even glance at 3 year old little boy who just lost his entire world and bear the insults. Not for a soldier. Not when he intentionally placed his life in danger to protect others. Soldiers die and that is a reality. One of the only things left for a family to cling to is the knowledge that their soldier died for something we all believed in. Our way of life, our freedom, the entire equation is dependent on all of us believing and some of us sacrificing.
Brandon Maggart did his part. He gave up every fishing trip, every baseball game, every birthday, every anniversary, every back yard camp-out, every Christmas morning, every hug, every tuck-in, every single “I love you daddy”. He did so voluntarily. He died for us to keep believing that freedom is the right of every person and the burden of a few.
I was not at all comfortable with attending this funeral. It brought up too many questions. What is my burden, now? Where does my responsibility to the equation start and stop? Where does my responsibility to his family stop when someone is attacking them during the most vulnerable time in their lives?
Just thinking about all of this left me visibly shaking. In the midst of me working myself to a fever pitch my wife had to interrupt. “We don’t need to go to the funeral” she said. “We don’t need to ambush and fire bomb the Westboro Baptist Church bus.”
She was right. Brandon’s wife did not need me to go to jail. His mom didn’t need me to shout at hateful lunatics. His father would probably get very little comfort from seeing me nose to nose with a delusional moron. They needed to know that the equation was intact. They needed to see me recognize that my freedom had been Brandon’s burden. They needed to see my 4 year old daughter with serious brown eyes, wild curls, and a farmer’s tan waiving a flag and whispering “thank you.” They needed to see my wife with red eyes and tears on her cheeks. SGT Maggart’s family needed to see the 19 year-old kid next to me with a crew-cut and dog tags who brought his yellow lab along.
They got all of that and more. I saw a farmer who welded a home-made flag pole to a trailer hitch. I saw the VFW boys standing at attention. I saw swarms of flag. I saw the fire truck and rescue squad. I saw small armies of Midwestern families at every parking lot, cross street, car-wash, and even tattoo shop in that town. I saw nearly 150 people on motorcycles from all over the state. There were farm trucks posted at every gravel road between Macon and the veteran’s cemetery. Sunburned men with work boots and seed caps over their hearts acted as sentries guarding the path to Brandon’s final resting place.
This wasn’t just something the family needed; it was something I needed. To see a community empty of people coming to pay tribute to a boy and family they didn’t know and would never see again was a reaffirmation. One little group of hate-filled, mal-contents did not do a single thing to tarnish the legacy of a soldier yesterday. The only thing they managed to do was galvanize an entire countryside in gratitude behind him.
When Brandon’s family passed us the most disconcerting thing happened. They were riding in a long black car behind the hearse. They were waving and smiling through their tears and mouthing the words “thank you” to us.
Hi,My name is Debbie Paulson and my son is also serving at the same base as Brandon was. I would like to offer my support to his Mother and would like to tell her thank you. so if for any reason she would want or need that please contact me at honeybee_dp@hotmail.com or call me. I live in Colville Washington and my number is in the phone book. Thank you Debbie Paulson (Navy Mom)