Heartwarming story. 🙂 Sniff.

I was gonna make a snarky comment about how it was different for the Vietnam “fallen heroes”.
But then I thought that it could have been my son, or my neighbors son. And It decided that it’s about time – – – – no – – – finally ‘they’ are realizing – – – and then, – – – – – well thank God that the fallen are finally being respected.
The pain and the rage (?) about the treatment of Vietnam fallen and survivors will perhaps never fade.
Our country has moved on. All for the better.
God bless our fighting men & women.

Roger

Comment received via email- I live outside a small village in Mid-Michigan. I was heading home from the field and coming up on the small township cemetery. It was low 40’s and drizzling rain with a stiff wind. A typical November day in Michigan.

I glanced over and saw a Marine Honor Guard in the cemetery. But, just those three. No family, friends or funeral home people around the grave.

I only had a few seconds to decide what to do. I knew there was no way I was letting a Veteran be buried alone. I slowed down and pulled in. As I exited my truck I took off my hat and held it over my heart.

I heard the last three notes of Taps echo over the small cemetery and drift down over the cornfield the cemetery is carved from.

The two Marines folding the Flag were struggling to fold it in the 25 MPH winds. At about a third of the way folded I saw the Corporal shake his head at the Private and they started over. The Eagle Scout in me approved as it had been a poor job to that point.

As I watched them start again, I contemplated the sadness of being buried without witnesses. But grateful this Veteran was being honored by comrades. I also idly wondered who the Flag is given too in situations such as this.

Again the two folding the Flag were about a third of the way done. This time doing a much better job of it. At this point the bugler looked away and noticed me. He tucked his bugle under his arm and walked towards me. I thought this was odd as the Flag was not folded yet.

A Marine in dress blues is and impressive sight. An overweight middle aged guy in bibs covered in mud from the field isn’t. When the Marine was within 10 feet of me he said ” Um, Sir. We are just practicing.”

I admit it took more than a few seconds to take in the words and process them. “Practicing?” ” Yes Sir, before the service.”

I slowly put my hat back on and mumbled ” Well, I didn’t think anyone should be buried alone.” I was very embarrassed that I hadn’t thought of that. I turned to get back into my truck.

As I opened the door the bugler said “Sir!” I turned and looked at him. “Thank-you for stopping Sir.”

I drove home impressed that these young folks would arrive two hours early to practice for a service for a man they had never met. And a little chagrined that I didn’t consider that Marines would practice to honor a fellow Marine.