Doing What is Right - Honoring a Veteran

(picture from The Edmond Sun)

I was hesitant to even tell this story because my intent was never to draw attention to myself, but rather to stand up for what I felt was right in the face of protestors.

It started last week with the news that Army Pfc. David Jeffrey Martin was killed Oct. 31 in Al Mahmudiyah, Iraq, when an explosive device detonated near his Humvee. He was a member of the U.S. Army 101st Airborne Division and a 2002 graduate of Edmond North High School. I mourn every military death, but I feel compelled to attend the funerals of local servicemen just to show my appreciation to the family. As it turned out, I was up late and worked long into the morning of the funeral so I was not planning on attending. That is, until I heard the news on the radio.

The news mentioned that Pfc. Martin's funeral was today and that a group of protestors planned to demonstrate outside. I won't mention the group by name or link to any of their web sites, because they have already received more than enough attention and the thought of them makes me sick to my stomach. I had seen them on the news before and the thought of anyone protesting a funeral, any funeral, but especially the funeral of a 21 year old Army private, stirred up an anger inside of me that just wouldn't go out. I knew what I had to do, so I grabbed the biggest flag in the house (about 3' x 5'), took it to work for one of our warehouse guys to attach it to an industrial strength pole for waving and self-defense (you never know), and headed to the funeral to use my size to block out the hate-filled signs of the protestors.

Upon arrival at the the church where the funeral was held, I unfurled my flag and took my place among hundreds of other "good guys". The American Legion was out in full force, many on their Harleys, revving their engines to drown out the protestors, others were lined up on either side of the road, ready and willing to take any action necessary to keep the "bad guys" from becoming too much of a distraction. As I was standing there next to military veterans, blue star moms, and regular citizens like myself I couldn't help but think of Lee Greenwood's song "... and I'll gladly stand up next to you and defend her still today". I often just watch events like this from afar, but I was glad to stand there and defend the honor of this country, our military and the short life of this fine young man.

The protestors left when the media finally got all of the pictures and interviews they wanted, which was not long after the start of the funeral. That left the majority of us waving our flags and encouraging one another. Over the next 30 minutes or so that crowd had thinned out to just a few dozen people. The motorcylce riders had departed earlier to set up their place along the route to the cemetary. We stayed in front of the church until a woman told us on her way out that the funeral procession would exit from the back side of the church, through a neighborhood, to avoid the hoopla out front. With no protestors in sight and having spent 45 minutes keeping this flag upright in 20-30 mph winds, I rolled up my flagged and headed for my car, although I didn't really feel like I had done a whole lot. Once in my car I kept my eyes open for others who might be lining up somewhere to honor Pfc. Martin.

I didn't have to go far. I saw a man standing on the NE corner of 33rd & Boulevard standing alone waving his flag. I decided to park my car and take up a position directly across 33rd street from him. I didn't know the man but he appeared to be on the same mission as I - trying to find some way to pay respect and show gratitude to a fallen hero from Edmond. Across Boulevard and to the south had gathered all of the veterans with their motorcyles all lined up in a row. It was obvious that this was the route to the cemetary, and that I was about to be a part of something special.

When it happened all time seemed to stand still except for the fire trucks, police cruisers and motorcycle policeman getting themselves into position. 3 fire trucks quickly pulled into the interscetion creating a retaining wall with their trucks to block traffic, another blocked the road to make way for the hearse to exit the neighborhood and enter onto 33rd. Police were everywhere putting cars into position and bringing all traffic to a halt, and then everything just went eerie quiet. The stranger and I were positioned in front of the traffic lights at the entrance to the intersection where all of this was taking place.

Firemen and Policemen were out of their vehicles now, standing at attention beside them. Still not a sound, but idling engines. Then the motorcyle patrolmen exited the neighborhood, followed by the white hearse carrying the flag draped coffin. I stood tall holding my flag as the hearse passed between me and the stranger and entered the intersection, receiving salutes from the firemen and policemen standing there. I held my stance, facing forward but I wanted to follow the hearse as it turned south and headed past the long assembly of American Legion Veterans. I didn't see it, but I could picture the scene in my head as I heard the call to attention, having been to military funerals before it always chokes me up to see these steeley eyed veterans slowly raise their hands in salute as their fallen comrade goes by.

I stood firm holding my flag with pride until the last car had gone by, then the stranger and I turned and walked away. We never spoke a word but we did what we had come to do - take time out our daily routine to stop, pay tribute and give honor to whom honor was due.

Happy Veteran's Day.