Active Unit News

Soldier Mourned
Army 1st Lt. Osbaldo Orozco, the Valley's first Iraq war fatality, is laid to rest.
By Jason D. Plemons
The Fresno Bee
(Published Thursday, May 8, 2003, 4:59 AM)
1st Lt. Osbaldo Orozco of Army C Company, 1st Battalion, 22nd Infantry Regiment, was killed April 25 in an accident near Tikrit, Iraq. EARLIMART,CA -- More than 350 people crowded inside St. Jude's Catholic Church while another crowd of about 500 waited outside Wednesday for the funeral of Army 1st Lt. Osbaldo Orozco, the Valley's first fatality in the war with Iraq. Mourners stood in the parking lot. They stood across the street. They sat in chairs off to the side. Mexican and American flags flew outside as yellow ribbons dotted the pews and aisles. Some people carried red and white flags of the United Farm Workers Union in homage to his family's farmworker past. Orozco, 26, died April 25 when his Bradley fighting vehicle rolled over, crushing him under its weight. His unit was rushing to help others under attack near Tikrit, according to the Pentagon. College football teammates stood next to farmworkers, reflecting two of Orozco's many roles: husband, son, brother, soldier, athlete, son of immigrants. During the service, friends remembered him as the one who quickly patted them on the back. He thrust out his hand to offer help. He swiftly kicked them in the butt when they needed that, too. "Animal gente," they said. The gentle animal. At 6-foot-1, 250 pounds, Orozco wasn't afraid of much. But, friends said, he was also kind. He picked up hitchhikers, often bringing them home and giving them a meal. His academic adviser at California Polytechnic State University, San Luis Obispo, remembered him as the first student in 15 years to invite her over for dinner. He was a star linebacker at Delano High School, named to The Bee's 1994 all-star football team. He attended Cal Poly on a football scholarship. "Baldo was wild," said Cal Poly teammate David Kellogg. "He was always yelling and screaming at us, trying to motivate us. He always painted his face, either camouflage or tiger-striped. He'd yell at us in Spanish and English, even though most of us didn't know what he was saying. "By the end of his college career, he had racked up 300 total tackles (No. 3 all-time at Cal Poly), five sacks and three interceptions. He earned the respect of his teammates, coaches and fans. And he earned the admiration of the children of Earlimart and Delano, who would ride a bus for hours to Cal Poly just to see the local boy hit someone on Saturdays. Andre Patterson, Orozco's former college coach, said he was ready to play from the day he arrived on campus. "He was a tremendous kid," Patterson, who now coaches defensive line with the Cleveland Browns, said in an interview by telephone. "He had no fear, but he was so much a people person. Everyone looked up to him. I wasn't surprised to learn that he had joined the Army." Serving his country was higher on his list than chasing professional football dreams, his friends said. He was proud to be a soldier. Proud to be fighting for freedom. "We get a lot of students without physical training," said Maj. Paul Buechner, an Army ROTC instructor at Cal Poly. "And Osbaldo would help every one of them, yelling encouragement and pushing them hard. He led by example." "It's difficult to lose a soldier," said Brig. Gen. Thomas Bostick, assistant division commander of the 1st Cavalry, which shares Fort Hood with Osbaldo's 4th Infantry Division. "But I never expected to see so many people show up here. I knew he was well-liked in his community, but I am overwhelmed with the amount of people here." An American flag draped the silver and chrome casket holding Orozco's body as it sat at the front of the church, surrounded by flowers and pictures. After the ceremony, seven ROTC cadets stood at attention as Orozco's brothers -- dressed in gray shirts and black pants and wearing white gloves -- carried the coffin out of the church. A line of cars more than a mile long formed as the procession made the 10-mile journey to Delano. The cars wound through a landscape of green grapevines and orchards where he had worked alongside his family while growing up. At the Delano Cemetery, the seven cadets raised their rifles and fired three shots in unison -- a 21-gun salute. A lone trumpeter played taps. A Kern County firetruck hung a gigantic American flag from its ladder. A flag at the Veteran of Foreign Wars memorial, near where Orozco is buried, flew at half-staff. Mayra Orozco wore her husband's dog tags next to a cross around her neck. She stood solemn, hiding her eyes behind a pair of dark sunglasses. Cadets took the flag off the casket and slowly folded it, gently handing it to the widow. She sat facing her husband's casket, clutching the flag. Orozco's mother, Reyes, sat next to her. Orozco's four brothers took off their white gloves and white carnations. They folded the gloves and placed their flowers on top. One by one, they placed them atop the casket. Mayra and Reyes stood up and gently held two white doves. They tossed them into the air. A Marine in full dress saluted. An Army general wept. The reporter can be reached at jplemons@fresnobee.com or 622-2409.

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