It had only been one week since we got word of the death of our comrade while deployed to a contingency in a foreign country. But there we were in service dress at a national cemetery, waiting for the funeral with full military honors to begin.

We stood around numb and quiet except for a few handshakes and casual greetings punctuated by very short conversations. There really was nothing to say as we were absorbed in the solemnity of the occasion.

I watched with interest as the honor guard rehearsed their routine one more time before the family arrived. What a beautiful, sunny spring day.

I marked out my spot for the ceremony, in the shade, so as not to be punished by the strong southern sun. Singing birds, blooming trees and flowers and a bright blue sky; these captured my attention. The cemetery director, with a hand held radio to his ear, quietly announced the arrival of the motorcade to the honor guard. They placed themselves before they arrived.

The widow and immediate family were escorted to their places. The chair of honor for the widow, front and center, was a different color from the rest. The flag-draped casket was gently lifted and carried to its place by the honor guard. Hands held over hearts and burning salutes are rendered as the casket was set in its resting place.

I heard words of comfort and wisdom from the minister, but don't recall what was said. Lost in my own thoughts, the cemetery director warned of the three impending rifle reports, but I was still not prepared. I involuntary flinched as the first loud crack rang out. What was that sting in my eyes and knot in my chest? A second and third report sounded, not as bad as the first. I hoped my dark glasses hid my eyes; I swear those weren't tears.

The words on behalf of a grateful nation were spoken as old glory, carefully folded, was presented to the widow. Final sharp salutes were rendered as Taps was played. I struggled to maintain my bearing.

We filed past the family and widow to pay final respects. I gave a deliberately firm but gentle grip as I tryed to convey in a handshake the words I could not find. I thought "peace be with you, my strength is here for you and how proud I am to have known your fallen loved one."

Politely, we milled around in silence waiting for the family motorcade to depart. Three distant rifle reports from across the cemetery awakened us to reality of another being honored. The motorcade departed as we make our way back to our cars with small talk. What a small world we live in. How quickly things change. Life goes on.

Driving back, I kept the radio off as I lost myself again in thought. I took the long route, I guess I wasn't in a hurry for a change. What a beautiful ceremony. I don't know if I've ever felt prouder to pay such an honor. I felt that sting again.

May Spokesman On-Line