My Memorial Day story...."Laying a Hero To Rest"
I served one year on the USAF Honor Guard Team. Best tour of duty ever. We headed to El Paso on one assignment to lay to rest a fellow Airman. After the long ride on the bus, we exited to find the man was of hispanic heritage, and there was easily a hundred family members there.
We wore the blue berets, white gloves, tailored uniforms, and had the shiniest boots in the military.
We lined up and carried the flag draped casket out of the hearse and to the gravesight. The family was crying, but that was nothing we weren't used to.
Our firing party had polished M-1 Garands, and they lined up to the right, all 7 of them, with the Sgt. out in front. The Firing Party was my favorite. There is just something about the feeling of cracking that 21 gun salute...especially when we nailed it just right.
I was on the Casket Detail that day, on the right side of the casket, facing the widow and family. There was a tent over the family, and I recall seeing a couple little kids next to the widow. That always made it hard.
The Flag Detail was right behind me at the foot of the casket. Two Airmen on each end with M-1's, an Airman holding the US Flag, and one holding the USAF flag. I had been on the Flag Detail many times...always had to worry about locking your knees and passing out in the event we had a long service.
Our Bugler was off in the distance, and we had a 2nd Bugler there this day as well.
It was a nice, cool day. Not a cloud in the sky.
Following the words from the Priest, our performance began. On this particular day, the Bugler absolutely nailed every note to Taps. Better yet, the 2nd Bugler echoed a faded Taps on a delay note, and it was breathtaking. They are just human, and I know its a guy and a trumpet, but they sometimes made mistakes, missed a note, or simply had a bad day. Not today. When we had days like this, when it was perfect, we got chills up our spine. This was one of those times.
And without skipping a beat, a second after the last note was played, the Sgt. called the Firing Party to order and "Fire...POP, Fire...POP, Fire...POP". Three distinct shots in unison from all seven guns for the 21 gun salute. When the first shot went off, the entire audience jumped. The widow cried uncontrollably. We were so taken in and moved by the playing of Taps, that it caught us, all of us, off guard.
After the final shot, we snapped the flag up off of the casket, and began the methodical twists and turns to create a perfectly folded flag. The Sgt. at the head of the casket turned slowly, and accepted three spent shell casings from the 21 gun salute, and placed them inside the last fold of the flag.
He then turned and was met by the Lieutenant, who presented the customary slow version of a salute and took the flag from the Sgt (Sgt. Ken Horton).
The LT then walked over to the widow, handed her the flag and offered his condolences, and gave one more slow salute.
The widow grabbed ahold of the LT and cried, and cried, and cried. I looked across the casket and saw the Airman across from me, and the two to his right. We all had tears in our eyes. For the first time ever, Sgt. Horton, who was a huge man, built like a beast, did an about face and turned to dismiss us, and he was unable to speak. I never saw him quiver, but he did that day. He finally gathered himself and dismissed us, and we marched back to the bus. I remember looking out the window of the bus as we drove away, and seeing the family still embracing as they comforted each other.
It was a long ride back to the base, and not a word was said. As we exited the bus, the LT stood at the door and saluted each one of us as we headed back to the squadron.
I (we) buried a lot of servicemen during my tour on the team, but I will never forget that one. I wanted to go back and meet that family, but never got the chance. So for him, for the family, I always carry a heavy heart on Memorial Day. And that is what Memorial Day means to me.
