Cemetery Escort Duty
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 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 flowers 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 paused for a second. ’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.’
‘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.’
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: ’TehenHut! Present Haaaarms!’
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 keep those currently serving and those who have gone before in our thoughts. 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!
February 10th, 2009 at 4:17 pm
I received this e-mail from some guy telling me this was a hoax. I don’t know why he didn’t just leave a comment on here so everyone could read it. It very well could be a hoax, but I couldn’t find anything about it on Snopes.com. Either way, it is a feel good story, passed around by e-mail, and I am sure there are some who enjoyed it.
The story you have posted at
http://www.pawsawhileonline.com/blog1/archives/133#comments sounds very much
like a Hoax
This looks very much like a Hoax story.
1) Much of the dialogue lacks credibility and sounds affected like “ground pounder”.
2) There were no Viet Nam casualties with the surname Wieserman.
3) There is only 1 registered Veteran’s grave with the surname Wieserman, it is for a WWII Navy man from Pennsylvania – who survived until 1999.
4) There is only 1 registered grave for a “Stephen Davidson” – and that is for a man with that middle name who was a WWI Army soldier from Arkansas and survived until 1963.
5) There are 33 recorded “Donald Davidson” veteran graves, but none of them has S for a middle initial.