Ijust wanted to get the day over with and go down to Smokey's. Sneaking a lookat my watch, I saw the time, 1655. Five minutes to go before the cemetery gatesare closed for the day. Full dress was hot in the August sun. Oklahomasummertime was as bad as ever -- the heat and humidity at the same level --both too high.
Isaw the car pull into the drive, '69 or '70 model Cadillac Deville, lookedfactory-new. It pulled into the parking lot at a snail's pace. An old woman gotout so slow I thought she was paralyzed; she had a cane and a sheaf of flowers-- about four or five bunches as best I could tell.
Icouldn't help myself. The thought came unwanted, and left a slightly bittertaste: 'She's going to spend an hour, and for this old soldier, my hip hurtslike hell and I'm ready to get out of here right now!' But for this day, myduty was to assist anyone coming in.
Kevinwould lock the 'In' gate and if I could hurry the old biddy along, we mightmake it to Smokey's in time.
Ibroke post attention. My hip made gritty noises when I took the first step andthe pain went up a notch. I must have made a real military sight: middle-agedman with a small pot gut and half a limp, in marine full-dress uniform, whichhad lost its razor crease about thirty minutes after I began the watch at thecemetery.
Istopped in front of her, halfway up the walk. She looked up at me with an oldwoman's squint.
'Ma'am,may I assist you in any way?'
Shetook long enough to answer.
'Yes,son. Can you carry these flowers? I seem to be moving a tad slow these days.'
'Mypleasure, ma'am.' Well, it wasn't too much of a lie.
Shelooked again. 'Marine, where were you stationed?'
'Vietnam,ma'am. Ground-pounder. '69 to '71.'
Shelooked at me closer. 'Wounded in action, I see. Well done, Marine. I'll be asquick as I can.'
Ilied a little bigger: 'No hurry, ma'am.'
Shesmiled and winked at me. 'Son, I'm 85-years-old and I can tell a lie from along way off. Let's get this done. Might be the last time I can do this. Myname's Joanne Wieserman, and I've a few Marines I'd like to see one more time.'
'Yes,ma 'am. At your service.'
Sheheaded for the World War I section, stopping at a stone. She picked one of theflowers out of my arm and laid it on top of the stone. She murmured something Icouldn't quite make out. The name on the marble was Donald S. Davidson,USMC: France 1918.
Sheturned away and made a straight line for the World War II section, stopping atone stone. I saw a tear slowly tracking its way down her cheek. She put a bunchon a stone; the name was Stephen X. Davidson, USMC, 1943.
Shewent up the row a ways and laid another bunch on a stone, Stanley J. Wieserman,USMC, 1944.
Shepaused for a second. 'Two more, son, and we'll be done'
Ialmost didn't say anything, but, 'Yes, ma'am. Take your time.'
Shelooked confused. 'Where's the Vietnam section, son? I seem to have lost myway.'
Ipointed with my chin. 'That way, ma'am.'
'Oh!'she chuckled quietly. 'Son, me and old age ain't too friendly.'
Sheheaded down the walk I'd pointed at. She stopped at a couple of stones beforeshe 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 andmurmured 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?'
Shepaused. 'Yes, Donald Davidson was my father, Stephen was my uncle, Stanley wasmy husband, Larry and Darrel were our sons. All killed in action, all marines.'
Shestopped. Whether she had finished, or couldn't finish, I don't know. She madeher way to her car, slowly and painfully.
Iwaited for a polite distance to come between us and then double-timed it overto Kevin, waiting by the car.
'Getto the 'Out' gate quick. I have something I've got to do.'
Kevinstarted to say something, but saw the look I gave him. He broke the rules toget us there down the service road. We beat her. She hadn't made it around therotunda yet.
'Kevin,stand at attention next to the gatepost. Follow my lead.' I humped it acrossthe drive to the other post.
Whenthe Cadillac came puttering around from the hedges and began the short straighttraverse to the gate, I called in my best gunny's voice: 'TehenHut! PresentHaaaarms!'
Ihave to hand it to Kevin; he never blinked an eye -- full dress attention and asalute that would make his DI proud.
Shedrove through that gate with two old worn-out soldiers giving her a send-offshe deserved, for service rendered to her country, and for knowing duty, honorand sacrifice.
Iam not sure, but I think I saw a salute returned from that Cadillac.
Insteadof 'The End,' just think of 'Taps.'
Hand Salute!
