![]() |
In Memoriam |
![]() |
LCpl. Erick Hodges, U.S.M.C. (KIA)
"I did my crying in the shower this morning so I could be as tough as I could."
Marine Erick Hodges laid to rest
SAN BRUNO - Marine riflers shot off three crackling rounds, the father clutched a folded American flag under his chin, and then the body of Marine Lance Cpl. Erick Hodges of Bay Point was lowered Friday beneath the grassy flats of Golden Gate National Cemetery.
Atop the buffed metal casket lay a 49ers mug -- a father's birthday present returned to its giver. Also, an empty bottle of the fallen Marine's favorite drink, Crown Royal whisky. Stuffed inside were a hand-written note and a hand-rolled smoke.
Nine days after Hodges was killed in a Fallujah street explosion, family and friends said goodbye and left a trail of remembrances at a somber funeral in Concord and a full military service across the Bay.
The funeral service for the Mt. Diablo High School graduate packed 250 people into the pews, balcony and aisles of the Salvation Army Community Church in Concord. The elder Erick Hodges called the turnout "overwhelming."
"I did my crying in the shower this morning so I could be as tough as I could," said the father, in a quiet, tired voice. "For a father to have a son like him, I'm honored."
Strangers came, along with parents of other East Bay Marines killed in Iraq.
There was Brian Bekowsky of Concord, back at the same church where he sat a month ago for the funeral of his son, Marine Cpl. Mick Bekowsky, who was killed Sept. 6 in a suicide car bombing in Iraq.
Mark Crowley of San Ramon, whose son, Lance Cpl. Kyle Crowley, was killed along with half his squad in an April 6 ambush in Ramadi, couldn't help but choke up as the bagpipes honked and wheezed again.
They watched, in an all-too-familiar scene, as a stiff-backed Marine handed the Purple Heart to Hodges' weeping mother, Marina Beyer of Alamo, who has struggled to accept its meaning.
Above a flag-draped casket, loved ones offered tributes and memories. Anna Erb recalled the determination of her young skinny nephew who refused to let go of the inner-tube speeding across Lake Shasta, even though he was "flopping around like a flag.
"It gives us peace to know his death was not a senseless death," said Erb, who took Hodges in to live with her for a time. "He died proudly for his people."
Adriana Baumgardner, a 24-year-old cousin, read a letter she wrote to the Marine after the family heard he was killed. He died a day after his 21st birthday.
"I hope that you were not scared," she read. "I hope that you were with your boys and that when you were struck, you felt proud."
Hodges' 15-year-old brother, Shawn, and his cousin, 18-year-old Danny Saballos, helped six Marines carry out the coffin. To Shawn, who called Erick "my best friend and brother," the death has struck hard. At the burial site, he slumped in his seat in a black suit and fedora. When the guns fired, he blinked once, then stared ahead as they fired twice more.
Near him were his parents and three siblings, and surrounding them, dozens of close relatives and friends, who remained tight by the casket long after the service ended.
Then, they left cemetery workers to place the coffin in the earth among generations of service members, between William Clyde Gilbert and Elwood Hutchings.
The grief doesn't end there, said Hodges' father, before driving up the narrow road, "but I feel like an energy's coming into my body," he said. "Now that he's at rest, at peace."