NY Post

And he chose to join a warrior class that isn't called "the Bravest" for nothing.

He died as he lived - courageously - but bravery is not confined to those who fight fires. Their families, who spend careers worrying, are called on to show unthinkable courage in public while they suffer grievous loss.

Yesterday, at Mike Reilly's funeral Mass, his mother, Monica, was halted in her tracks as she walked up to receive Holy Communion. She stopped and stared at her son's fire helmet as it sat on a table near the altar.

Seconds later, showing the same steel as the son she raised, she straightened her spine and went up to God's altar.

The funeral was attended by 8,000 to 10,000 firefighters, some from as far away as Montreal.

Throngs listened silently as bagpipes skirled the Marine Corps hymn around the magnificent St. Paul's Roman Catholic Church in Ramsey, N.J.

Stiffly, a Marine contingent stood with a crisp salute as they silently mouthed the words we all know: "From the halls of Montezuma to the shores of Tripoli."

But it's the next lines that we forget and they so proudly live: "We fight our country's battles in the air, on land and sea; First to fight for right and freedom and to keep our honor clean; We are proud to claim the title of United States Marine."

In either uniform, USMC or FDNY, Mike Reilly commanded respect.

"He was absolutely fearless," said former Marine Cpl. Timothy McGill.

McGill was with 2nd Battalion 3rd Marines who fought the forces of evil in Fallujah.

Amidst the acrid smoke and the bloody bodies, McGill often thought back to saner times - among them attending Ramsey HS in New Jersey, where he palled around with Mike Reilly.

And then he would hear that young Mike was in the Marine Squad 472, fighting fires all over Iraq.

It was an absolute must-be meeting. So they hugged and shook hands outside the maelstrom that is Baghdad, while we sat home in our safe corral. And President Bush was getting heat from every wimp on the horizon.

"It was so wonderful meeting a hometown friend. We swapped high-school stories and stuff about our hometown," former Cpl. McGill recalled.

"The thing about Mike was that he loved the action. He told me just how much he loved it. And when he put on that uniform he just stood proud and fearless. A real wonderful credit to the Marines and our country. But he did not know fear."

Matt Crowley, whose father, Billy Crowley, was a member of the pipe band that swirled past the church yesterday and whose brother Tommy is on the job, was in Mike's probie class.

"He was an absolute perfectionist. He knew what he was doing at all times. He actually left that job in the fire department in Stratford, Conn., and took a big pay cut to come to Engine 75.

"He could have had his pick of any firehouse anywhere, but he chose to come here. That was Mike Reilly."

But being a brave Marine and a brave fireman - great feats both - wasn't enough for Mike Reilly. He had to be handsome and friendly and athletic as well.

"You could see it even when he was a little boy," said Barbara Johnson-Soued. "My son Derek went through three schools with him growing up. He was a people person. But very active. He was on the junior golf team with my son and on sports teams everywhere.

"You knew someday he would be someone."

Michael's sister Erin, 23, in a charming eulogy, said her handsome brother was many things - "He was a pro bull rider, depending on which night you met him" - and cracked up the congregation.

Sometimes a smile or a laugh is the only weapon against the crushing blitzkrieg of losing a real-life hero who only made it to 25 years.

Here was a guy that looked death squarely in the face and refused to turn away - a spirit FDNY firefighters somehow have tattooed on their psyche.

Even Fire Commissioner Nick Scoppetta, not always popular in the rank and file, told the congregation something they secretly knew.

"He [Michael] would never avoid danger. Perhaps he almost wanted to seek it out, but in a proper manner."

Mike's father, Michael Sr., stood erect and strong, and he repeated the poetic lines from "A Thousand Winds" that are certainly a fitting mantra for the Bravest.

"Do not stand by my grave and cry, I am not there, I didn't die."

But frustration, mixed with a heart-wrenching sadness of the moment, was not far from the surface.

I suppose you can put it this way: A man worth a zillion bucks in guts along - together with fellow hero Howie Carpluk - in a 99-cent store. Bobby Greer from 27 Truck was not only on the scene as a rescuer at that fatal fire on Walton Avenue in The Bronx, he was in the same store when it was ablaze five years ago.

"We saw white smoke. It was a regular job. The point is I don't know after the first fire whether those repairs were up to standard, and I don't think the city ever inspected them.

"We go to fires, and the guys risk their lives and that's their job, but all we want is an equal playing field. We want to know the strength of the building, and I don't think that was done.

"We got two of the firefighters out, Chief Tom Auer of the 17th Battalion and John Grasso of 92 Engine. Everyone there acted in an incredible fashion. Auer and Grasso were cooler than we were, buried up to their armpits.

"Unfortunately, we just couldn't get to those two great men in time."

Look, there are too many of these great guys, whether it be this terrible tragedy, the fire on Jan. 23, 2005, where firefighters were forced to jump out a fourth-floor window or the Father's Day fire of 2001.

Michael's younger brother, Kevin, who turned 18 on Thursday, certainly showed what his future would be.

He walked up near the altar yesterday dressed in the uniform of the Ramsey Township rescue squad, a volunteer outfit of young men that Michael joined when he was 16.

By the time he was 25, Michael Reilly had lived three times the life of anyone his age. I guess that's about 75 years' worth of living - and that should be enough for us mortals.

* Carpluk's funeral will be held today at St. Marks Episcopal Church in Islip, L.I.