devans186 Chronological Posts

Volunteer Cemetery Escort Duty

I just wanted to get the day over with and go home, have a Jack and put my feet up.
Looking 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. Utah 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,
it 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 as 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 Marine my ankle and leg 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. Sam would lock
the "In" gate and if I could hurry the old woman along, we might make it
home for a good meal and some rest.

I broke Post Attention. My ankle 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 grey hair and half a limp, in Marine Full Dress
Uniform, which had lost its razor crease about 30 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. Two tours, Jan '68 to November '69."



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 bunches 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 aren'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, 1966, and the last on Darrel Wieserman USMC, 1968.





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 family?"

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 Sam waiting by the car. "Get to the "Out"-gate quick. I have
something I've got to do."

Sam 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.

"Sam, stand to attention next to the gate post. 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 Marine voice:
"TehenHut! Present Haaaarms!"

I have to hand it to Sam, 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 Marines 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.