In two days, I had been to Kirkuk, Tikrit, Baquba and then Balad, where I was hoping to catch a flight back to Baghdad. I was in luck: A helpful dispatcher said that a C-130 was going and there was a seat.

"Oh, by the way, sir, let me know if you have any problem flying with HR aboard." "Who is HR?" I wondered aloud.

Thirty-six airmen marched across the apron in a column of twos. They halted where the end of the cargo ramp met the tarmac and faced to the center. A Humvee backed up to the end of the line. Six of them lifted out a flag-draped aluminum casket, carrying it up and into the aircraft while the rest presented arms.

There are two caskets today. After the Loadmasters secured them, the airmen filed aboard and, joined by a chaplain and the crew, a brief prayer was said. Then they marched off. They didn't march well and they couldn't seem to keep in step, but this wasn't a drill team. These were mechanics, fuelers and cargo handlers determined to send two soldiers home with as much dignity as they could muster.

It was an honor guard from the heart.

There were seven of us in the cargo bay. Two Loadmasters and three living passengers sat sideways on folding nylon benches. The other passengers were strapped to the floor between us. I tried to sleep, tried to look out the tiny porthole, tried to watch the Loadmaster or mentally inventory the cargo pallets, but inevitably I wound up looking at those two boxes.

I beheld a terrible beauty. Our flag glowed. Its reds and blues were vibrant, and its white stripes and stars were incredibly pristine in the midst of the gray and grime of an Air Force transport.

Within were HR: the human remains of lives unfinished.

I wondered who they were, how they had died and whose hearts had been broken.

Capt. Anthony R. Garcia was 48 years old when he died in Tikrit on Feb. 17. He was a physicians assistant in the Aviation Regiment of the 101st Airborne Division and had been in the Army since 1989. He was a Ranger and served as an enlisted soldier before earning his commission.

Capt. Garcia died of a gunshot wound that the Army said is "under investigation." His wife told a reporter, "He loved kids and doing stuff together; we'll just miss him so much."

Cpl. Andrew J. Kemple "made some bad choices when he was a teenager," according to his mother, "but he was moved by human suffering and had a motivation to help other people."

From Cambridge, Minn., he wanted to enlist ever since 9/11. He was 23 years old and an infantryman with the 3rd Battalion, 187th Infantry Regiment. Cpl. Kemple died on Feb. 12 when his Humvee was hit by small-arms fire while he was searching for a weapons cache in Tikrit.

Today is Memorial Day.

I am home now, and my war is over, but after a year in Iraq, this day can never be the same. Today and every Memorial Day to come, my thoughts will return to Capt. Garcia and Cpl. Kemple. In my mind's eye, I will be sitting in a C-130 again, looking at their flag-draped caskets and remembering just how much they gave us.

Tom Farrell, a Honolulu attorney, is an Army Reserve officer who recently returned from service in Iraq. He wrote this commentary for The Advertiser.