Ride Report posted by Lutz
Nine Warriors’ Watch Riders gathered on a beautiful springlike morning to pay our honors to the life and service of Mr. James J. Corr. We were just the right number to flag-line the walkway leading into the funeral home for those coming to attend the viewing.

If you saw “Band of Brothers” or know your WWII history, you know the story of the military service of James Corr. Member of the elite 101st Airborne, Corr parachuted into Normandy on D-day, and lived to see Austria. He fought through D-day, did the next drop in Operation Market Garden, the failed attempted to break through into Germany via the Netherlands. Fighting to secure the bridges there, Corr was grazed in the head by a bullet, earning him his first Purple Heart.

Later Corr was there for the horrible winter of 1944-45, where the Americans were under fed, under equipped, short of ammo and lacking winter clothing. During the Battle of the Bulge Mr. Corr spotted a machine-gun nest manned by seven enemy solders. He dodged enemy fire to crawl within hand-grenade range. He killed two of the enemy, captured the remaining five, and was awarded the Silver Star. He also got frostbite of the hands and feet and was shot in the leg.

Corr was actually interviewed by the author for “Band of Brothers” but didn’t want his name used because he felt that he had done nothing special, that he had only done what was his duty – what he was supposed to do.

In his final years of life at Edge Hill Nursing Home, Corr, crippled and fingers frozen with arthritis, cared for his wife. He would push her wheelchair an inch, then move his, then hers again, and so on and in that way inched them along the hallways. I know this because my son is the cook at that nursing home. Corr’s daughter verified that information, and both of them told me that Mr.Corr was only hanging on to life in order to care for his wife. When she died, a few weeks ago, then and only then was Mr. Corr’s “duty” on Earth complete, and he could let go and leave the prison that his body had become.

At the conclusion of the viewing, the flag-draped casket was brought out to a waiting hearse. We came to attention and rendered honors, then we formed a flag line across the busy street to block traffic for the mourners as they crossed to the church on the other side. The casket was moved by the hearse to the other side of the road, and we again rendered honors as it was carried into the church.

At that point when the doors closed we departed, as Mr. Corr is to be interred at Arlington.

One of life’s tragedies is the way in which most young people view most old people, not knowing or even considering what those people might have suffered, or how heroically they might have lived. A newspaper reporter approached us as we stood the flag line, and told me that someone called the paper because they saw the flags and thought someone “important” must have passed away.

Someone important, indeed. More important than they will ever realize.