Bishop - Farewell, Cpl. Wayne Geiger

At the end of the graveside service, a final salute was offered to Cpl. Geiger by his father, Lt. Randy Geiger, of the Inyo County Sheriff’s Department. Photos by Jon Klusmire

There were almost as many laughs and giggles as there were tears when the community of Lone Pine said its final good-byes to Corporal Wayne Geiger on Saturday.

During the funeral service, Cpl. Geiger was posthumously awarded the Bronze Star, and the overflow crowd in the Lone Pine High School gym had another chance to show that they were “his fans,” that they appreciated him as a young man, an athlete, a role model, a brother, a son, a soldier.
There was also the chance to remember, by all accounts, someone who never failed to laugh and to make others laugh. Speakers recounting some of Geiger’s deeds, quips and stunts elicited smiles many times, and more than few times waves of laughter swept the crowd.
After the services at the gym, and again after the powerful, moving graveside military ceremonies centered on his flag-draped coffin at the Mt. Whitney Cemetery, the community and the Geiger family grieved together. Randy and Kim Geiger, his parents, and sister Jessica, hugged everyone who offered them a hug, or looked like they needed a hug, too. They shared embraces, they shared tears, they shared their grief, they shared Wayne in a tremendous show of affection and support and love.
And while the community might have known him best for his unending sense of humor and his athletic determination, his father revealed that the you man who left Lone Pine in 2003 had matured, had thought seriously and thoroughly about what he wanted to do with his life, and where he wanted life to take him.
He knew what he wanted to do, he knew the consequences and rewards, and he did it.
With a smile on his face.
Before the funeral services began, Inyo County residents from Bishop to Lone Pine lined the streets to pay their respects as Geiger’s motorcade passed. As the first Inyo County resident to die in the line of duty during the War in Iraq, Geiger’s death was felt by those who didn’t know him, but wanted to honor the valor of a 23-year-old soldier who had fallen on the field of battle.
Groups of people gathered along U.S. 395 early in the morning. They brought American flags, their children and a solemn sense of duty to honor a soldier who had given the full measure of sacrifice for his country.
In Bishop, the Fire Department set up a ladder that placed an American flag high above the street, the crowd and Geiger’s motorcade.
Crowds waited patiently in Big Pine, looking toward the huge flag at the north end of town that was flyingat half mast to honor Geiger. When the motorcade passed, hands covered hearts or snapped to a salute.

The motorcade carrying the body of Corporal Wayne Geiger Saturday brought out residents from every town on its path to pay their repsects to the 23-year-old who was the first solider from Inyo County to lose his life in combat in Iraq. In Big Pine, above left, citizens held their hands over their hearts and saluted as the motorcade passed. Photo by Jon Klusmire

As in Bishop, people unfurled large American flags and held small flags that moved slowly in the breeze as the vehicles passed.
A crowd carrying and waving flags repeated the silent homage in Independence.
The hometown crowd in Lone Pine was waiting. Again, children and families and flags lined the streets.
At the high school, the outdoor message board held Geiger’s number 4 basketball jersey, and the announcement of the services.
The gym was full. The overflow crowd listened over loudspeakers as they stood outside on the lawn.
Randy Geiger stood at the podium with the flag-draped coffin of his son resting just a few feet away, and told the audience about his son.
His son had always wanted to play, and play until it was dark.
His enthusiasm was infectious, and soon the Geiger household was packed with his friends, being fed by mom Kim until she made sure they were full. Those friends “played an important part in all our lives,” Randy said. “They were our extended family.”
And sometimes they got a bit more extended than the parents wanted them to. Randy recounted how the boys would gather in “a stinky, sweaty bedroom” to play Nerf basketball and bang on the walls for hours, fueled by Gatorade and Doritos.
When the noise subsided, optimistic parents thought the boys had worn themselves out and conked out.
Not quite. A quick look revealed the door was open and they were “out on the town, running amok,” Randy said. “Innocent little angels ... they were not,” he said with a laugh.
When the rest of the laughter died down, his father shared that “Wayne was intense and complicated,” hinting at a depth that would surface in a few more years.
Coaches and teammates would come later to talk about Wayne’s work on the basketball court.
His father’s tone softened a bit when he recounted that Wayne decided to go to Sierra Community College after graduating high school in 2003. He noted that his son didn’t excel at college, and said as a dad he wondered if that was part of the reason his son decided to eventually join the Army in 2005.
“Since 9/11, I had been watching my son with the jaded eyes of a parent; he was paying attention.”
When father and son talked, the logic expressed by Wayne was simple and powerful. “Dad, I’ve been watching” what’s going on over there in the war zones, his father related. “I feel as if I have to do my part.”
At that point, it was apparent that even if his son had finished four years of college, “he would have joined as an officer; he was going in.”
Before Wayne was deployed overseas, the son had changed in his father’s eyes. “I saw a man; he had evolved.”
Of course, he was still gregarious, still full of life, still full of pranks.
“But he had become a man. He was focussed. He knew exactly what he was getting into.
“I was humbled by that deep sense of patriotism he felt; I didn’t know where he got that.
“He inspired me.”
Part of that depth and inspiration was on display on Wayne’s MySpace page, which his father noted “has some pretty interesting stuff on it.”
Down in the corner, though, there was a spot for “heroes,” and it said, “My Mother and Father, of course, all the men and women throughout our history who made the ultimate sacrifice for their country, and the men and women that serve today.”
His father concluded, “Say a prayer for Wayne, keep him in your thoughts. He’s our son, but he belongs to the Owens Valley, and belongs to history …”
“Wayne, I couldn’t be prouder, your mom and sister couldn’t be prouder.”
The U.S. Army was proud, too, and showed it the way the Army does.
Corporal Wayne M. Geiger, a member of the 2nd Platoon, H Company, 3rd Squad, 2nd Stryker Calvary Regiment, was posthumously awarded a Bronze Star for valor in action on Oct. 18, in Baghdad, when the gunner was killed by an improvised roadside device. Cpl. Geiger was also awarded the Purple Heart, the Army Commendation Medal, the Good Conduct Medal and the Iraqi Freedom Combat Infantry Badge.
As if on cue, the noon fire siren blew a single blast after the citations were read.
Then it was time for basketball coach Matt Kingsley and Wayne’s teammates. Kingsley noted that Wayne “had an advanced sense of humor,” complete with a full set of comedy routines, a large range of impersonations and the ability to keep making people laugh for hours. Sometimes too many hours. Kingsley recalled a four-hour road trip during which Wayne talked and sang and joked for the entire four hours. “I wasn’t sure if I was ready for a couple years with Wayne Geiger,” said the coach.
But those were good years, and they were capped in 2003, when the team went undefeated in league play, “and Wayne was the spark,” Kingsley said of his point guard, who could handle the ball, pass, play defense and shoot. “Leadership was his biggest contribution” to that championship season, Kingsley said.
That’s why Lone Pine High School will be retiring Wayne’s number 4 this season, Kingsley said.
While the championship banner and jersey will be reminders of the talented athlete, the fake teeth and cigarettes will forever be symbols of a funny character. Kingsley recalled how Wayne put in fake buck teeth, grabbed some fake cigarettes and went roaming around Fraizer Mountain High School, talking like a hillbilly and trying to light the fake smokes until he finally got tossed out of the gym by a stunned teacher.
His teammates loved every minute of it.
Kingsley said he didn’t dwell on what might have become of Wayne, preferring to remember that “he packed an awful lot into 23 years.”
Wayne’s death changed the people he knew, Kingsley said, “and for the people who are with Wayne now, things just got a lot more interesting.”
The stories kept coming – “now I can sleep at night knowing he won’t try to light my bed on fire” – as friends and community members spoke of Wayne.
One speaker seemed to sum things up with a simple observation: Wayne Geiger was more than a funny kid, “he was that guy, the guy people wanted to know, the guy people wanted to be around.”
His father, who’s been known to talk a bit himself, couldn’t resist one last story. “He did it to the Army, he victimized them, too,” Randy said. He noted that during boot camp, his son developed almost perfect impersonations of his drill sergeant. As word of that talent got out, the big, mean drill sergeant would order Wayne to do an impersonation. When finished, the second order came, “drop and give me 50.” So all during boot camp, Wayne was laughing at drill instructors and doing pushups while they laughed at him.
The gym full of his fans had to laugh, too.
The serious side of the day was pulled into sharp focus at the Mt. Whitney Cemetery. Members of the Inyo County Sheriff’s Department, where father Randy Geiger is a lieutenant and mother Kim is a civil officer, stood in formation in sharply pressed, dress-green uniforms.
The Army honor guard performed its duties with solemn precision.
Seven rifles were raised as one and fired. And fired again. And again, to complete the 21-gun salute.
A bugler slowly let “Taps” unfold in all its powerful sounds of sadness.
Then the six young soldiers addressed the casket. They picked up the flag and pulled it taught, then began to fold it, with each move being completed with reverence, determination and precision.
When complete, the triangle of cloth was carried in white-gloved hands and presented to Kim Geiger.
The family approached the casket, knelt, paid their respects, and then allowed the rest of the crowd to do the same.
One by one, young people came forward to put a single rose on the casket, to kneel, to sign the basketball that was next to the casket. To cry and comfort each other.
And once again, Randy, Kim and Jessica, stood in the warm Lone Pine sun and accepted and offered hugs and gratitude, shared laughs and tears with every one of their son’s “fans.”
And he had many.