My Dad sent me this and I wanted to share it with ya'll - Decaff
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, a '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 slowly 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 Smokey'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: France1918.
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.'
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.