One of my best friends in Law School was a Marine Master Sergeant. One of the finest human beings I've had the pleasure of knowing. He too had been assigned to honor guard duty (he even helped me refold my Father's flag). He told me a story about one particular funeral ceremony that stood out in his memory. I'm not sure who invited the Marines but apparently most of the surviving family and mourners were not happy about their presence. There was a strong Black Power/F the Man vibe to the funeral, almost like a Black Panther gathering. The honor guard did their thing while the attendees just glared at them angrily.
My friend presented the folded flag to the widow. She turned up her nose, refusing it. My friend didn't know what to do. He just wanted to get the F out of there but what about the flag? He moved on to the next mourner. Uh oh. Same reaction. Next in line avoided eye contact. WTF. He can't take the flag with him. He sees a young boy sitting up front. Son? Grandson maybe? Who cares. He presents the flag to the kid who looks up at him wide-eyed. "Take it, kid, PLEASE take it" he thinks as hard as he can as he fixes the boys gaze. The boy timidly accepts the flag and the honor guard beats a hasty retreat (or, as Gen. Oliver Smith would put it, they advanced in a different direction).
Of course the vast majority of families aren't like that. They appreciate the honor guard. Let me tell you my story.
At my Dad's funeral (WWII combat vet) the honor guard was from the VFW. I didn't know they were coming. I had held it together throughout the whole entire funeral until I heard those rifles crack. Three riflemen, three volleys each. CrackCrackCrack ..... CrackCrackCrack ..... CrackCrackCrack.
With the reports still echoing in the air, the bugler (a real bugle, not a trumpet or a recording) sounded taps. Well, that did it. Damn ninjas cutting onions in here. Still can't hear it without, well, you know, my allergies are acting up, that's why my eyes are red dammit. So just as taps ended, a giant jet roared low overhead. It looked close enough that I could count the rivets. The cemetery was near the airport, it was just a coincidence, but my Aunt was convinced it was a flyover ("just like Kennedy"). They folded the flag and presented it to my Mom with one of the casings. I don't think she put it down that day. I don't remember a damn thing anybody said at his funeral, but I will always remember (and be grateful for) the honor guard.
Of course there wasn't an opportunity at the time for me to express my gratitude to the honor guard. That's the way funerals are sometimes. So, on behalf of myself and all the other families that honor guards have helped through a difficult time, thank you Marine1 and everybody else who has ever served on an honor guard.
Alex.
