They Also Served

This has been an incredibly hectic month. I have been involved in veteran activities (as usual) and forgot I had a blog post due. As many of you who follow this blog know, I am very active in veteran activities and usually write a veteran-related blog every November. I hope you do not mind my reposting one of my favorites.Cemetery WatchmanPosted on July 17, 2024 by Vaughn C. Hardacker

Vaughn C. Hardacker

As commandant of the Meo Bosse Detachment 1414 Marine Corps League, I received a request from a friend for a Marine Corps presence at her husband’s funeral on Saturday, July 13, 2024. She asked if we could be present at the interment at the cemetery. My reply was that we would not only attend but also provide an honor guard, present a flag, and perform a rifle salute. Her husband was a member of our detachment and, after six years of service with the USMC, served over twenty years with the Maine State Police. She told me that the Maine State Police were also having a flag ceremony and presenting one to her. She said, “If you can also give one, I will pass them on—one to each of my two sons.

The ceremony went off like clockwork.

There are many ways to describe the Armed Forces of The United States. At a recent VFW meeting, another veteran told me what the differences between them are: “The Army and Navy are services; the Air Force is a corporation; but, you Marines are a cult.” I replied, “You’re right … and we’re damned proud of it.”

Sgt. Vaughn C. Hardacker, USMC, Iwakuni, Japan 1973

I returned home from the funeral and received the email below. After reading it, I knew I had to share this… it should actually apply to all veterans. (Don’t be surprised if I share it again on Veterans’ Day.)

 

 

 

 

 

Emblem of The United States Marine Corps

I received this from a fellow Marine Brother and have no recourse but to share it.

  “Cemetery Watchman” 

My friend Kevin and I volunteer at a National cemetery in Oklahoma, and we put in a few days a month in a ‘slightly larger’ uniform. Today had been a long, long day, and I just wanted to get the day over with and go down to Smokey’s for a cold one. Sneaking a look at my watch, I saw the time: 16:55. 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, with 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 4 or 5 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 lady 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 flower 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, and more tears flowed. ‘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 just 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, 1968, and the last on Darrel Wieserman, USMC, 1970.

She stood there and murmured a few words I couldn’t make out, and more tears flowed.

‘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 down the service road fast. 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: ‘Tehen Hut!   Present  arms!’

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 far beyond the realm of most.

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 remember those currently serving and those who have gone before. 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!

As I write this, I have the TV news reporting that an assassination attempt had been made on former President Trump. I don’t know what has happened to our culture. I grew up believing that everyone had a right to their own opinions and beliefs … a right that no longer seems to hold. We are being governed by politicians who no longer believe that they serve we the people. It seems to me that they only serve a few things. Among these are their interests and keeping their party in power (which they believe will keep them in their over-paid positions). The people in the above post died for us and our country. If they are looking down from above, they have to wonder what they sacrificed their lives for.

(I never thought I would ever say this.) I am glad I am approaching the end of my life,. I shudder at the thought that if things continue, I would not want to see what this country will be like when my thirty-year-old grandson is my age.

I will now retire to my mancave and reflect—make that mourn—for the days when the United States of America stood for open-minded communication, a discussion that was constructive and not vituperative. When differences were discussed, and while we may disagree, we could at least listen and accept the opinions of others when our elected officials worked for us, the people, rather than their own petty goals. In closing, we need to wake up and ensure that all those who gave their lives for the American ideals did not do so in vain.

Let us not overlook the others who also serve: our wives, children, parents, and relatives. Especially the wives. I didn’t have to worry about the home front when I departed for FMFPac (Fleet Marine Force, Pacific). My wife had that duty, she took on all responsibilities to ensure that when I returned everything would be as it was when I left. So on Veteran’s Day and Memorial Day (especially on Memorial day), take a few moments to say a prayer of thanksgiving for those who also served. We have more special days than I can count. For example, I recently heard on the radio that it was National Hot Dog Day. I believe that it is more appropriate that we have a National Those Who Also Served Day. When my significant other and I go about our routine daily chores, people often stop and say to me, “Thank you for your service.” Maybe we should also include the families in that.

 

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