1st Place Todd Heisler, Rocky Mountain News
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Marine Major Steve Beck prepares for the final inspection of 2nd Lt. James J. Cathey's body, only days after notifying Cathey's wife of the Marine's death in Iraq. The knock at the door begins a ritual steeped in tradition more than two centuries old; a tradition based on the same tenet: "Never leave a Marine behind."
 
Major Steve Beck and another Marine approach the family home of 2nd Lt. James Cathey, preparing to escort the Catheys to the airport to receive their son's body. Five days earlier, the shadows of Casualty Assistance Call Officers followed the same path, carrying the news no military family ever wants to hear. The gold star flag in the window signifies the death of a loved one overseas.
 
When 2nd Lt. James Cathey's body arrived at the Reno Airport, Marines climbed into the cargo hold of the plane and draped the flag over his casket as passengers watched the family gather on the tarmac. During the arrival of another Marine's casket last year at Denver International Airport, Major Steve Beck described the scene as one of the most powerful in the process: "See the people in the windows? They'll sit right there in the plane, watching those Marines. You gotta wonder what's going through their minds, knowing that they're on the plane that brought him home," he said. "They're going to remember being on that plane for the rest of their lives. They're going to remember bringing that Marine home. And they should."
 
At the first sight of her husband's flag-draped casket, Katherine Cathey broke into uncontrollable sobs, finding support in the arms of Major Steve Beck. When Beck first knocked on her door in Brighton to notify her of her husband's death, she glared at him, cursed him, and refused to speak to him for more than an hour. Over the next several days, he helped guide her through the grief. By the time they reached the tarmac, she wouldn't let go.
Minutes after her husband's casket arrived at the Reno airport,

Katherine Cathey fell onto the flag. When 2nd Lt. James Cathey left for Iraq, he wrote a letter to Katherine that read, in part, "there are no words to describe how much I love you, and will miss you. I will also promise you one thing: I will be home. I have a wife and a new baby to take care of, and you guys are my world."

Marine Sgt. Jeremy Kocher stands watch near the body of Lance Cpl. Evenor Herrera in Eagle, as children and adults from the area poured in to pay their respects. Like many of the Marines stationed at Buckley Air Force Base in Aurora, Kocher says the funeral detail is the most difficult mission he's ever done. "I actually start thinking about it he moment I wake up. It's such an important job that I just don't want to mess it up," he said. "I just want it to be perfect."
 
Members of the Marine Air Control Squadron 23 stationed at Buckley Air Force Base escort the casket of Marine Lance Corporal Evenor Herrera to a gravesite in Eagle. Since the beginning of the war, Marines from Buckley have overseen funerals for 16 active duty Marines; 12 died in Iraq, four died in traffic accidents.
 
Blanca Stibbs, cq, center, rests her head on her husband David Stibbs' shoulder as a Marine honor guard folds the flag that draped their son Lance Corporal Evenor Herrera's casket during a burial service at Sunset View Cemetery in Eagle on Friday, August 19, 2005.
 
Jo Burns cries as she and her husband Bob opened the boxes containing their son's uniforms from Iraq - boxes delivered by Maj. Steve Beck. "For me, having all this back is a good thing," she said a few minutes later. "I want to remember. I don't ever want to forget, or to stop feeling." Bob Burns then took her hand. "I don't want to forget either," he said. "I just don't want to hurt."
Katherine Cathey pressed her pregnant belly to her husband's casket, moaning softly. The baby, due Jan. 1, will be named James Jeffrey Cathey

Jr.

The night before the burial of her husband's body, Katherine Cathey refused to leave the casket, asking to sleep next to his body for the last time. The Marines made a bed for her, tucking in the sheets below the flag. Before she fell asleep, she opened her laptop computer and played songs that reminded her of "Cat," and one of the Marines asked if she wanted them to continue standing watch as she slept. "I think it would be kind of nice if you kept doing it," she said. "I think that's what he would have wanted."
 
As his son's funeral neared, Jeff Cathey's tears rarely stopped. He often found comfort in the men who shared his son's uniform. "Someone asked me what I learned from my son," he said. "He taught me you need more than one friend."