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.

Out came the flag-draped, dove-gray casket.

Variations on this scene have played out more than 4,000 times, each time an American service person has been killed in Iraq.

They gathered at 11:10 a.m. Tuesday for Army Pfc. George Delgado, 21, who died with three other soldiers March 24. The killings brought the number of American deaths in Iraq to 4,000. The toll now stands at 4,012.

Capt. Luis Juarez offered his right arm to Delgado's mother, Maria Calle, who hid swollen eyes behind large brown sunglasses. Calle took the officer's arm and turned to her 19-year-old daughter, Cynthia Delgado. Mija, she said quietly. My daughter.

They walked slowly together toward the casket, trailed by Calle's sisters and brothers. Delgado's father, Elias Delgado, divorced from Calle 18 years ago, followed.

Each family member was lost in his or her own grief. Elias Delgado kept his left arm stiffly tucked behind his back and put only his right hand on a corner of the casket. Calle laid her cheek on the flag and caressed the top in long, slow strokes. One of her sisters whispered basta -- enough.

The honor guard slipped the casket into a white hearse. When the door closed, Calle and her brothers and sisters drifted away. Elias and Cynthia Delgado lingered behind. He finally moved his left arm to put it around his daughter. It was only then, when they were alone with his son's body, that he began to cry.

Each serviceman or woman's story is unique, but certain rituals occur again and again as families grieve and bury their dead. It was just as quiet at the Long Beach Airport in January, when the family and friends of Army Sgt. David J. Hart, 22, of Lake View Terrace gathered for the arrival of his casket. Among the few sounds: another mother weeping.

Members of Patriot Guard Riders -- motorcycle enthusiasts who pay tribute to fallen U.S. military personnel -- greeted Hart's coffin and showed up in Palmdale as well, riding in front of the hearse with American and Army flags flying on their motorcycles.

The long train of cars following the hearse made its way slowly across the high desert, and at 12:20 p.m. the procession passed Desert Christian High School. More than 100 students and teachers lined the curb, hands over their hearts. They held small American flags and hand-painted signs that read, "George Delgado" and "Class of 04."

This scene too has played out elsewhere.

Children and adults lined the streets of Torrance last June as a horse-drawn carriage carried the coffin of Army Pfc. Joseph J. Anzack Jr., 20.

When the body of Army Spc. Wayne M. Geiger, 23, was brought back to the Owens Valley town of Lone Pine in October, more than 2,000 people lined up along a desolate stretch of U.S. Highway 395.

As Delgado's procession passed Desert Christian, Calle, riding in a slate-gray Chevrolet Cobalt driven by Capt. Juarez, nodded at the students.

One of four killed

The honor guard placed the casket on a blue dais in a dimly lighted room at Halley-Olsen-Murphy Memorial Chapel in Lancaster. Stepping away from the private wake, the parents spoke about their son.

Both had been upset that he joined the military. Elias Delgado, 52, asked his son to work with him at his dance studio in Downey. Calle reminded him that he was taking classes at Antelope Valley College and working at Wal-Mart; he had a chance to get somewhere in life without the Army.

Last spring, Delgado joined anyway, and in November he shipped out for Iraq from Ft. Stewart, Ga..

The Bradley fighting vehicle Delgado was driving was hit by a roadside bomb Easter Sunday in Baghdad. He died the next day, along with Staff Sgt. Christopher M. Hake, 26, of Enid, Okla.; Pfc. Andrew J. Habsieger, 22, of Festus, Mo.; and Spc. Jose A. Rubio Hernandez, 24, of Mission, Texas.