Observing a sorrowful ritual in war

The door of the charter plane lifted, and an honor guard in dress blues strode crisply across the tarmac at Palmdale Regional Airport. The only sounds were the occasional cry of crows, the flapping of American flags held straight up and the low sighs of a mother trying to keep from sobbing.

By Jia-Rui Chong and Ann M. Simmons

April 6, 2008