Cemetery Escort Duty:
I just wanted to get the day over with and go
down to Smokey's. Sneaking a look at my
watch, I saw the time, 1655. Five minutes to
go before the cemetery gates are closed for
the day. Full dress was hot in the August
sun. Oklahoma summertime was as bad as
ever--the heat and humidity at the same
level--both too high.
I saw the car pull into the drive, '69 or '70
model Cadillac Deville, looked factory-new.
It pulled into the parking lot at a snail's pace.
An old woman got out so slow I thought she
was paralyzed; she had a cane and a sheaf of
flowers--about four or five bunches as best I
could tell.
I couldn't help myself. The thought came
unwanted, and left a slightly bitter taste:
'She's going to spend an hour, and for this
old soldier, my hip hurts like hell and I'm
ready to get out of here right now!' But for
this day, my duty was to assist anyone
coming in.
Kevin would lock the 'In' gate and if I could
hurry the old biddy along, we might make it to
Smokie's in time.
I broke post attention. My hip made gritty
noises when I took the first step and the pain
went up a notch. I must have made a real
military sight: middle-aged man with a small
pot gut and half a limp, in marine full-dress
uniform, which had lost its razor crease about
thirty minutes after I began the watch at the
cemetery.
I stopped in front of her, halfway up the walk.
She looked up at me with an old woman's
squint.
'Ma'am,may I assist you in any way?'
She took long enough to answer.
'Yes, son. Can you carry these flowers? I
seem to be moving a tad slow these days.'
'My pleasure, ma'am.' Well, it wasn't too much of a lie.
She looked again. 'Marine, where were you stationed?'
' Vietnam, ma'am.; Ground-pounder. '69 to '71.'
She looked at me closer. ' Wounded in
action, I see. Well done, Marine. I'll be as
quick as I can.'
I lied a little bigger: 'No hurry, ma'am.'
She smiled and winked at me. 'Son, I'm 85-
years-old and I can tell a lie from a long way
off. Let's get this done. Might be the last
time I can do this. My name's Joanne
Wieserman , and I've a few Marines I'd like to
see one more time.'
'Yes, ma 'am. At your service.'
She headed for the World War I section,
stopping at a stone. She picked one of the
flowers out of my arm and laid it on top of the
stone. She murmured something I couldn't
quite make out. The name on the marble was
Donald S. Davidson, USMC: France 1918.
She turned away and made a straight line for
the World War II section, stopping at one
stone. I saw a tear slowly tracking its way
down her cheek. She put a bunch on a
stone; the name was Stephen X..Davidson,
USMC, 1943.
She went up the row a ways and laid another
bunch on a stone, Stanley J. Wieserman, USMC, 1944.
She paused for a second. 'Two more, son, and we'll be done'
I almost didn't say anything, but, 'Yes, ma'am. Take your time.'
She looked confused. 'Where's the Vietnam
section, son? I seem to have lost my way.'
I pointed with my chin. 'That way, ma'am.'
'Oh!' she chuckled quietly. 'Son, me and old age ain't too friendly.'
She headed down the walk I'd pointed at.
She stopped at a couple of stones before
she found the ones she wanted. She placed
a bunch on Larry Wieserman , USMC, 1968,
and the last on Darrel Wieserman, USMC,
1970. She stood there and murmured a few
words I still couldn't make out.
'OK, son, I'm finished. Get me back to my
car and you can go home.'
Yes, ma'am. If I may ask, were those your
kinfolk?'
She paused. 'Yes, Donald Davidson was my
father, Stephen was my uncle, Stanley was
my husband, Larry and Darrel were our sons.
All killed in action, all marines.'
She stopped. Whether she had finished, or
couldn't finish, I don't know. She made her
way to her car, slowly and painfully.
I waited for a polite distance to come between
us and then double-timed it over to Kevin ,
waiting by the car.
'Get to the 'Out' gate quick. I have something
I've got to do.'
Kevin started to say something, but saw the
look I gave him. He broke the rules to get us
there down the service road. We beat her.
She hadn't made it around the rotunda yet...
' Kevin, stand at attention next to the
gatepost. Follow my lead.' I humped it
across the drive to the other post.
When the Cadillac came puttering around
from the hedges and began the short straight
traverse to the gate, I called in my best
gunny's voice: 'TehenHut! Present
Haaaarms!'
I have to hand it to Kevin ; he never blinked
an eye--full dress attention and a salute that
would make his DI proud.
She drove through that gate with two old
worn-out soldiers giving her a send-off she
deserved, for service rendered to her country,
and for knowing duty, honor and sacrifice.
I am not sure, but I think I saw a salute
returned from that Cadillac .
Instead of 'The End,' just think of 'Taps.'
As a final thought on my part, let me share a
favorite prayer: 'Lord, keep our servicemen
and women safe, whether they serve at home
or overseas. Hold them in your loving hands
and protect them as they protect us. AMEN'
Let's all keep those currently serving and
those who have gone before in our thoughts.
They are the reason for the many freedoms we enjoy.
'In God We Trust.'
Sorry about your monitor; it made mine blurry too!
If we ever forget that we're one nation under
God, then we will be a nation gone
under!
UNTIL NEXT TIME, GOD BLESS AMERICA!