My long-anticipated trip to Brazil was about to begin. Having trained in the Army in the early ’70s as a Brazilian linguist and completing seminary, my family and I were appointed for missionary service in Brazil. Fragile diplomatic relations in the ’80s diverted my family to Portugal, where we served for ten years. Hoping this time finally to step onto Brazilian soil as the senior interpreter and chaplain for a command visit to observe our 140th Fighter Wings’ participation in Exercise Southern Cross at Natal Air Base in Brazil, the second aircraft in which I was to ride became “unavailable.” (I think it broke). I was informed the night before that I would not be going.

God had other plans for my week

Though a bit disappointed, I had a suspicion that God had another assignment in store. My experience is that He has a habit of doing just that. It follows that old saying, “If you want to make God laugh, tell Him your plans.” So why did I have to go through all that trouble getting the visa, et cetera? Anyway …

Sure enough, the next morning, our funeral honors coordinator called to tell me of a special mission that needed chaplain support. A Colorado Korean War Soldier, who was declared missing in action in 1951, was finally coming home, and he needed a chaplain to participate in the dignified transfer and military burial.

What the record says

In February 1951, as a part of Operation Thunderbolt, during a U.S. Army push to move the invading Chinese back across the 38th Parallel on the beleaguered Korean Peninsula, Pfc. Floyd Edward Hooper, an infantryman from Stratton, Colo., and other U.S. Soldiers, were captured and held prisoner. Surviving capture, eyewitness testimony confirmed Floyd’s subsequent death in a POW camp in North Korea the following June. Unlike many other allied troops, living and dead, who were repatriated in the prisoner exchanges Operation Little Switch and Operation Big Switch, Floyd’s remains were never returned. His family was informed by telegram of both his MIA status and later of his presumed death as a POW.

From 1990-94, North Korea returned 208 boxes – the remains of allied troops. Investigators discovered the remains of as many as four or five men in each box. Members of  U.S. Joint POW/MIA Accounting Command then began the long, tedious process of segregating the remains and matching bones to surviving family members through dental records and DNA. One set of remains, a partial skeleton, was set aside in dignity, unidentified, awaiting the final clue to his identity. Meanwhile, in POW/MIA ceremonies across the U.S., black and white POW/MIA flags waved in the breeze as heads bowed in solemn remembrance, with the prayer that all those who are still unaccounted for would eventually be brought home.

Life goes on

Life back in Stratton, Colo., continued. Floyd’s family and friends mourned and grew old, but with no real closure. All they had were two telegrams; one informing them of his MIA status, and another of his presumed death in a North Korean POW camp and posthumous promotion to corporal. Most who knew and loved now-Cpl. Floyd Edward Hooper eventually followed him in death. Many were buried in the Stratton Cemetery in and around the family plot, where an empty space waited for Floyd.

Few relatives survived to welcome him home.

Prior to his death in 2005, Floyd’s oldest brother, Lyle, read of continued U.S. government efforts in recovering, identifying and reuniting POW/MIA remains with their families. In a last-ditch attempt to help identify his youngest brother, Lyle left a lock of his own hair to provide necessary DNA evidence.

Lyle died, never knowing of his brother’s fate, nor of the strategic impact his lock of hair would make one day.

On Nov. 8, 2010, the previously unnamed skeleton got his name back. Lyle Hooper’s DNA matched what was left of his younger brother, Floyd. Finally, after 59 years, Cpl. Floyd Edward Hooper, U.S. Army infantryman, was coming home – with full military honors!

But who was left to care?

Denver news agencies started to report the amazing story. They searched and found his oldest living relative, a female cousin. She knew Floyd and explained that all of his immediate family was already gone. Her concern was whether anyone would care – much less show up at his long-overdue burial.

In the meantime, I contacted the next-of-kin, a female niece who would receive the flag from his casket. She remembered Floyd. She was 7-years-old when he left, but admitted that most of her memories about her Uncle Floyd had come from her parents and grandparents. She, too, was concerned whether anyone beyond herself, her daughter and granddaughters, and Floyd’s grand- and great-grandnieces, would be at his burial.

A dignified transfer

On Wednesday, I met the funeral director and military honors team at a fire station near Denver International Airport. There we discussed the procedure for the dignified transfer. As I had recent experience of this sort, I facilitated the discussion on how best to retrieve the flag-draped casket from the airplane luggage conveyor belt and carry it to the hearse for transport home. As in previous instances, the airline personnel, ground crew, Denver Police and Transportation Security Administration personnel all stepped up to provide the respect and honors Floyd earned so long ago.

At the lead police officer’s signal, we fell into a solemn convoy. Escorted fore and aft by flashing lights, the white hearse followed the lead vehicle, followed by the military honor guard and trailing squad car.

The direct flight from Honolulu arrived minutes before we staged outside the aircraft. Already in place were two large honor guards; one of Denver Police and the other of TSA employees dressed in berets and shoulder braids. All wore white gloves.

As the casket slowly made its way down the conveyor, all uniformed personnel followed the cue of the military honor guard, rendering slow, white-gloved hand salutes in long-standing military fashion. When the casket came to a halt, I stepped forward and delivered the following prayer:

Welcome home, Cpl. Hooper "With gratitude and pride, greeted by family and fellow Soldiers, we invoke God’s mercy and strength as we finally get to mourn your loss and prepare to fully honor your service and sacrifice. Holy Spirit, wrap your invisible arms of love around all who mourn Floyd’s loss. Keep us mindful of Jesus’ words, that 'Greater love has no one than this, that one lay down his life for his friends.' Accompany us, Good Shepherd, as we 'walk through the valley of the shadow of death.' Comfort us with your 'rod and staff' as we honor the sacrifice of this warrior and his family after so many years. In the Name of the Father, the Son and of the Holy Spirit. Amen."

Following the prayer, the military pallbearers lifted the wooden casket and proceeded to carry it, in half-step cadence, the short distance to the hearse. After a final salute, the funeral director closed the hearse tailgate in preparation for the ride home.

An honorable return

The story of Floyd’s return to Colorado soil was run by several Denver news agencies. One station interviewed a 94-year-old lady who knew him. She was at the Stratton train station to see Floyd and a few other Soldiers off the day he left to fight in the Korean War. She shared her recollections, and how she was calling and contacting everyone in Stratton and the surrounding area to come welcome Floyd home.

I wondered how successful she would be.

The following Saturday, I rode with the casualty assistance officer, Sgt. 1st Class Samuel Vanzant, a Gulf War veteran. We discussed the move from the funeral home in Burlington, Colo., where Floyd laid in repose until the planned Saturday burial.

Burlington was the first Colorado whistle stop on the rail line west. Stratton was the next stop on the Eastern Colorado plains. It’s a ranching and agricultural center dominated by grain elevators and farm equipment sales lots. There, members of the local Veterans of Foreign Wars post had formed to provide honors as the military pallbearers moved Floyd into the white hearse. Again, I performed my ceremonial salute and joined the procession to Stratton.

Led by members of the Colorado State Patrol, we headed east to Floyd’s final resting place: a cemetery on the outskirts of his hometown, where his family had been waiting a long, long time.

I thought to myself as we travelled, that Floyd probably would’ve said “enough already” to all the “fussing” around his return home.

But we weren’t done yet.

As we slowed down the northbound exit ramp into Stratton, my eyes spontaneously filled with tears. Up ahead – and  as far as I could see – people showed up to welcome Cpl. Floyd Edward Hooper home. An honor guard comprised of the local VFW, American Legion members and Boy Scouts led the processional through Main Street. Flags were everywhere; some hung, but most were carried by people of all ages. Children held up hand-made signs welcoming Floyd home. Solemnly standing with hands over their hearts, the good citizens of Stratton and surrounding areas (from Kansas to Grand Junction I later found) lined Main Street, standing at attention as the hearse and procession passed. One man in an Army uniform saluted from his front porch and returned inside. More than one had tears in their eyes like me. As the senior military officer in the procession, I felt compelled to return the salute of my fellow comrades – many of whom had arthritic hands. More than one nodded as I recognized their tribute.

After a few short blocks, the hearse turned right onto a gravel road leading to the cemetery. As we parked, I looked back and saw cars and people flooding in behind us. Standing at attention near the grave, Air Force Brig. Gen. Tom Peraro, representing U.S. Forces Korea and the Colorado National Guard, stood ready to present the American flag.

That 94-year-old lady’s efforts had paid off.

Coordination finally complete, I led the casket into the tent covering the burial area. Looking out, I saw hundreds of people standing off in the distance in quiet respect. I realized that they were there for Floyd – just like his few remaining family members – so I stepped out and invited everyone in.

“Come close, this is a homecoming!” I called, and the throng moved in.

After a prayer of welcome, I shared the story of David and Goliath, and how David grew into a strong warrior and king. Yet David had another talent: he was a musician – a singer-song-writer-composer who penned the words to the 23d Psalm, which I then read. After a prayer of committal, concluded by a community recitation of the Lord’s Prayer, I asked a question:

“What difference did Cpl. Floyd Edward Hooper’s death make?”

I have presided at more than 150 military burials in the past five years; but this one was unique. As always, I asked God to help me.

In anticipation to the question of the value of Floyd’s sacrifice, I did a little research on South Korea. Several Web sites* list these interesting facts about the nation, including its amazing political, economic, educational, religious and medical progress that made it one of the seven tigers of East Asia. All of these changes occurred since the cease fire that occurred at the 38th Parallel, where Floyd disappeared.