The father of a soldier killed by a suicide bomber in Afghanistan last week said his family was booed by the first class passengers on the flight that brought his son’s body home to California.
U.S. Army Sgt. John W. Perry of Stockton, California, was killed on Saturday in Afghanistan by a suicide bomber who was targeting a Veteran’s Day fun run on the base. His father, Stewart Perry, wants people to overcome politics and talk about what really matters.
The disgrace comes amid two weeks of post-election backlash against anything tied to traditional patriotism. “I want people to know about the heroic thing that my son did,” Perry said.
Excuse me a moment, I’m going to go on a hairy tangent.
You sick, twisted, sons of bitches. Every single person who was on that plane – whether you booed or not – is a waste of space.
Approve of the military or not, you just celebrated the death of someone’s son. You literally just cheered his death in front of his parents! I would call you garbage, but you aren’t good enough to be called garbage.
I hope you never have to feel the pain of burying your own child, regardless of the circumstances. I hope you never have to sit on a plane knowing your own flesh and blood is dead beneath you. I hope you never have to listen to a member of the clergy bless the body of your dead child. I hope you never have to look at a photograph of your dead child and realize over and over again that you will never see them again.
The longer I go on with this, the angrier I get.
Tolerant left my ass! You jackasses are worthless scum.
I am a member of the patriot guard riders. I haven’t taken part in a long time, and I will tell you exactly why.
One night, we were called for a last minute mission at the airport. We all raced to the airport to stand in honor of a young man who was arriving by casket at that airport. His parents waited on the ground for him. In the time we waited, they chose to come around and thank each of us personally for racing out there at a moment’s notice to make sure their son’s body was greeted by a sea of flags and a sea of people who were standing at attention with a tear in their eye for him even though we didn’t even know what he looked like.
They got to me. His mother thanked me and shook my hand. She was solid as a rock… but empty. His father shook my hand. His father… broke me. I am not ashamed to admit that this young man’s father haunts my dreams. It has been a few years, but I can still see that man’s face as clearly as if he was in front of me right now. I can’t even explain how he looked, but the best I can say is the man in front of me was completely destroyed. You could feel the despair and hopelessness oozing from his very soul. His entire world had been completely destroyed and he no longer had the will to go on, but he was fighting hard to keep going.
If you have never looked someone in the eye who was like this father, you will never understand.
When I read this article, I saw this father. I can’t imagine anyone doing this to this man. It would have ended him right there. What these people did to this family would have been too much for this father to handle.
How dare you. How. DARE. You.
There is no greater pain than to have to bury your own child. And because of politics… you added more grief to their burden.
I’m done. These people make me sick. People who hate Trump because the media told them he was mean and racist, who go out of their way to take a family who is already destroyed and stomp on them. There are no words I can physically form to express the anger and rage I feel about this.