a mobilized year

We walked over there at 1830. There it was. The familiar display of the two desert boots of a soldier with his M4 pointed down toward the ground between them. The soldier’s dog tags dangling from the M4 and swaying in the hot breeze. A picture of the soldier there, quietly depicting a happy moment in his life. The battalion’s colors on one side of the display and the United States Flag on the other. This display was different though from the others. This display was for a cavalry scout. Instead of a helmet resting on the butt of the M4, there was a ceremonial black Stetson with gold braids. And, around the boots were a set of spurs. These are items that select cavalry soldiers wear.

By the time I arrived, there were already about 200 soldiers there. We stood around for about fifteen minutes prior to the battalion formation. We engaged in somewhat awkward small talk, glancing at the soldier’s memorial display at every pause in the conversation.

This was the second memorial service in the last two weeks for us. Unlike the other ceremonies that were in the morning, this one was in the evening, which had an affect on the atmosphere. I think it was probably because there was more time during the day to think about the ceremony that evening. That particular evening was also different because of the humidity level in the air. The wind had changed direction for the first time in weeks if not months and was blowing moist air in from the Gulf coast.

We formed up, and the Generals and other dignitaries arrived. The familiar sequence started—the Star Spangled Banner, the invocation, followed by remarks from various people. The company commander spoke, the squad leader spoke and one of the soldier’s buddies spoke. Each talked of the uniqueness of the soldier, his selfless service, his commitment, his competence, and his virtually patented smile. Each of them shared personal experiences that they had with the soldier. Many of the experiences were funny or made me smile. The smiles were followed by sudden heavy and sharp feeling of hurt that I and others there felt from the loss of one of our own.

After the remarks and the recitation of the Fiddler’s Green (a Cav ritual), the NCO in charge of the 7-man firing squad belted out his commands to the firing squad. On his command of “Ready, Fire,” the squad fired in unison. A single loud “crack” echoed through the dense, humid air. There was a pause, then “Ready, Fire!” Again, the single loud crack. And finally once more, “Ready, Fire!” I can feel at will the tenseness in my neck and shoulders hearing those shots. Upon hearing the first volley, I anticipate the next, but yet for some reason I am still surprised when I hear them. The shots remind me of the abrupt, suddenness and finality of death.

After a silent moment, the bugler started playing a slow, mournful Taps. He was about 10 meters from me. I was there with my men behind me. I stood there rigidly; steady drips of sweat were falling down my back, my chest, my arms, my legs, and my patrol cap. I then heard about 100 meters away another bugler who also started playing Taps. They echoed one another. I was soon lost in thought about the soldier and his family . . . his youth, the finality of his death, the loss of the family.

At the conclusion of the ceremony, a recording of bagpipes played. As is customary, each soldier present paid his respects individually to the soldier who has given his life. A single file military line was formed. The over 700 soldiers present individually saluted the picture of the soldier, silently said something to or in remembrance of the soldier before saluting again and moving away.

These ceremonies are very well done, professional, and well-rehearsed. They are far from cold and impersonal. Many a soldier is seen shedding tears. There is no shame in it. They are tears of respect and caring. They are symbols of the brotherhood that has been established with others who you’ve shared common experiences with and with whom you share many values and beliefs.

These ceremonies are hard. I hope this one was my last one.