Because he cared, war dead get the respect they're due

Eric Besvold missed the HBO premiere of "Taking Chance" a few weeks ago, but he hopes to catch it on DVD.

Besvold, 35, is drawn to the true story of Marine Lt. Col. Michael Strobl, who escorts the body of 19-year-old Lance Cpl. Chance Phelps, killed in Iraq, home to Dubois, Wyo. Besvold has traveled much the same road.

In June 2006, Besvold, a St. Paul resident who works on the baggage ramp for Northwest Airlines, was jolted by what he saw one afternoon. After the normal sea of luggage down the conveyer belt came a military casket, "like just another piece of freight." He believed there was nothing intentional about the abandonment of military procedures guaranteeing respectful handling of soldiers' remains. "No one knew anymore," he said. "There hasn't been a war in a long time."

Still, he thought, it wasn't right.

Throughout that summer and into the fall, Besvold recruited co-workers and supervisors up the ranks to change that. With the help of managers Steve Redeske and Bill White, along with Bill Lentsch, senior vice president of flight operations, Besvold ordered a special cart to be used only for transporting deceased soldiers. He decorated it with magnetic military emblems purchased by the airline, then bought flags with his own money to fly above the caskets. Duluth VFW Post 6320/137 donated the first casket flag.

"This was, frankly, a very easy thing for us to support," said Lentsch, who credits Besvold with doing the lion's share of the work. "These are people who fought hard for our country and deserve our respect."

Besvold, a third-generation Navy man who served in Kuwait in 2005, is most proud that he has taught nearly 50 fellow ramp workers the correct procedures for honoring the military dead. The routine starts from the moment they arrive (first out of the cargo hold) to the moment they are returned (first on) to the cargo hold for the next flight, if MSP is not their last stop. In this manner, airport workers have honored 15 fallen soldiers from Minnesota and Wisconsin in the past two years, with more than 200 for those en route elsewhere.

Sometimes, a child-size casket arrives holding just a few remains. But the ceremony remains unchanged. "That's how the family wants it," he said.

Besvold pauses when asked his thoughts on whether caskets should be photographed for public viewing. "It's not my job to judge," he said. "I respect the family and what they would want." His focus is elsewhere.

He opens a fat folder and pulls out a two-page sheet. It's titled "Military Human Remains Program." He typed it himself. No masthead. No fancy seal. No executive board. Just painstaking details. "Pick up cart in International Bag Room ... Take flag into bin and put it on the casket ... Take [military] escort and human remains to cargo transfer area and drop-off ... see if [escort] needs a smoke before going up [to] the WorldClub." This last directive is one of only a few hinting at the emotional toll of this quiet work.

"Many escorts tell me that they're very nervous," he said. "They don't know what to tell the family. I tell them, 'Pray.'"

Free snacks in the WorldClub

He's proud that the WorldClub, NWA's private airport lounge, offers escorts all the free soda, coffee and food they want while they wait. He's proud, too, that three times that he knows of, passengers have stood up to give escorts their first-class seats.

Besvold grew up in Superior, Wis. His grandfather served in World War II; his father in Vietnam. He joined the Navy out of high school and has been working at NWA since 1998. He's considering reenlisting and returning to the Middle East next year and is glad that the program, now also in place in Detroit because of his efforts, is in good hands if he leaves. He has earned commendations from the Air Force and Gov. Tim Pawlenty for his work.

But that's not why he does it.

"I've had nothing but compliments from peers, management, pilots, family and friends who are proud of me for starting something that's been successful," he said. "But, how can I say this? I'm glad I started this program, but I just don't want to see the fallen soldiers come home anymore."

Gail Rosenblum • 612-673-7350 • gail.rosenblum@startribune.com