"On behalf of a grateful nation..."

Photo by Sweet Corrosion

     On a gray but warm Saturday in early January of this year, the Bertram family gathered to say farewell to their patriarch and father/grandfather. He had passed away the week before, having suffered the indignities of advanced old age and rapidly declining health for several months. When he died, it was sad, but also a relief that this proud man would no longer suffer. His last wish was to be returned to his beloved Clinton County, Kentucky for burial, and his sons had arranged for that to take place.        
     There were not many of us sitting in the funeral home. Only his family-- three sons, their wives and 3 of his 6 grandchildren. The old man had outlived virtually all of his extended family, so the final trip "back home" was a lonely one. One additional couple, from the family of a daughter-in-law, also came, so the little group added up to eleven.

     We were sitting in the quiet, just before the funeral itself was to begin, when there was a bit of commotion in the lobby. The military honor guard had arrived. Dad had been a Navy veteran of World War II, and had survived a horrific German U-Boat attack during that conflict.  Even though he had not been seriously injured in that attack, it had seemed fitting to the family to request a final tribute to this sacrifice, if such an honor guard could be found in the rural, rolling hills of central Kentucky. There was such a guard-- the Monticello, KY Disabled American Veterans group. I want to honor this group and publicly thank them for the service they provided the family. We were touched by the respect these dignified men paid to a total stranger-- a stranger but also a comrade-in-arms.

     The leader of the DAV came to talk to the family and offer his personal condolences. He chatted briefly with the funeral director and the pastor as well. We all sat down, ready for the service  and the business of burying the dead to begin.

     With slow, dignified deliberance, in full uniform and at strict attention, the leader of the DAV guard walked from the back of the room to the casket. He walked that military cadence walk I had seen in the honor guards at the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier.  He stopped at the casket, clicked his heels and slowly saluted, then turned sharply and walked out of the room. One by one, eleven more DAV volunteers repeated his motions. These men were not young. They were gray-headed, some more stooped than others. The solemnity with which they performed this simple act of respect touched each of the family. We had not expected this-- and knew that Dad would have been moved by it as well.

     The service was a thorough Christian funeral with promises of eternal life for the deceased and for each of us if we believed. The pastor was gentle and respectful, though he was serving a family he had never met. We were grateful. When it was over, the family carried the flag draped casket to the hearse and we began the drive to the little cemetery in the country. There were only 6 cars, including the hearse, that made the journey. We weaved through the little town, where cars pulled to the side of the street in respect. The journey through the countryside was similar-- each time we met a vehicle on the road, it pulled off to the side to let us pass. None of us could remember this occurring in the city where we lived in. We were touched again by the respect shown.

Photo by Sweet Corrosion

     The cemetery sits on a rise out in the rolling countryside, surrounded by hills and farms. There was a small tent set up over the grave. The family again carried the casket to the graveside, then sat down under the tent. There was a mist of rain falling. The DAV was there, lined up in a row of seven men and their commander some distance from the grave, and four others at the tent at attention. The pastor spoke his final words. The leader of the honor guard nodded and an order was called to the line of men. "PRESENT ARMS!"  The men snapped the weapons and when the order came "READY!" they shouldered them. "AIM!" and the rifles raised and were pointed heavenward. "FIRE!" and a round of seven shots rang out, echoing through the hills. The little group huddled under the tent all shuddered at the loud report. The guard repeated firing twice more, a total of 21 shots. A twenty one gun salute.

Photo by Sweet Corrosion

     Then the haunting strains of Taps were blown by the bugler. It echoed through the misty hills as well. I am certain there were farmers in the area who must have heard the guns and stopped for a moment to listen when they heard the bugle. I have never heard Taps played better-- so heartfelt and respectful. Tearing up, I squeezed my husband's hand. He dabbed his eyes too.

     Three guards at the casket began to fold the flag. The folding was done with that same military snap and precision, but at a slower pace befitting the occasion. The folded flag was inspected and then the leader of the guard brought it to the eldest of the three sons. He knelt in front of the son and presented it, saying, "On behalf of the US Government and a grateful nation, we present you this flag. Your country and his comrades-in-arms thank you for your father's service." He rose, and then each of the 12 men of the honor guard shook the hands of each family member before they left.

     I have had some time since to think about all this. First and foremost, I am so grateful to the Monticello, KY DAV for their voluntary service that day. The family will forever be grateful for the most fitting farewell paid to our father. We all agreed that it was a shame that Dad could not have seen it himself. He would have been amazed and most honored by it. I also think about the current wars, and that many men and women are returning in flag-draped caskets who did not have the chance to live out life to old age. How many other DAV units will repeat this same process for much younger soldiers?

     As an old hippie, there are endless blog posts I could write about war, about what is a just cause for war, about politics and old men deciding the fates of young men and women. I am rarely moved by patriotic flag-waving events that aim for emotional responses rather than thoughtful evaluation. The honor paid to my father-in-law at his funeral moved me. His sacrifice humbles me. Like our nation, I am grateful for his service, and those of all the men and women who have served like he did.

For more information on the DAV, check out their website:  http://www.dav.org/