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https://x.com/JRM58506966/status/1974548337568178537?t=45eB9pZ_YxzhcPjhBlqhOw&s=19
20 bikers refused to leave a dying veteran's hospital room even when security threatened to arrest them all.
Old Jim had been dying alone for three weeks, no visitors, no family, just a forgotten Marine in a VA hospital bed, counting his last breaths.
But when a young nurse posted on Facebook that this 89-year-old veteran who'd fought at Iwo Jima was going to die without a single person holding his hand, something extraordinary happened that had the entire hospital staff in tears.
The bikers came from five different states, some riding through the night, others taking time off work they couldn't afford to lose, all because of a promise they'd made to never let a veteran die alone.
"Sir, visiting hours are over," the security guard said for the third time, his hand resting on his radio. "I'm going to have to call the police if you don't leave."
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The security guard made the call. Ten minutes later, two police officers appeared in the doorway, their expressions stern. The small hospital room was crowded and hot, filled with the scent of leather and antiseptic. Big Mike finally looked up, his eyes weary but unflinching.
"Folks, you've been asked to leave," the older officer began, his voice firm. "This is a hospital."
"He's a Marine," a biker in the corner named 'Stitch' replied, his voice thick with emotion. "He's one of us."
The officer’s eyes scanned the room, taking in the scene. He saw the worn patches on their vests: 'Vietnam Vet,' 'Desert Storm,' 'OEF.' He saw the gentle way one biker was adjusting Jim's pillow. He saw the quiet reverence. His gaze finally rested on a small Marine Corps insignia tattooed on Big Mike's forearm. The officer’s posture softened almost imperceptibly.
"What's his name?" the officer asked, his tone shifting from authoritative to respectful.
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