Legal Commentary

Semper Momento

For many families, Memorial Day is not a once-a-year holiday, it's a daily dagger through the heart.

In Sag Harbor, New York:

They lined Sag Harbor's Main Street by the hundreds, some with their hands over their hearts, others clutching American flags. Then, as the body of Lance Cpl. Jordan Haerter traveled by in a hearse, many began wiping away tears.

For a few minutes yesterday, the village's normally vibrant business district was solemn and mournful as a large crowd turned out to watch a police motorcade escort the 19-year-old Marine killed last week in Iraq to the Yardley & Pino Funeral Home.

In Cincinnati, Ohio:

The early morning sun had barely warmed the grass in the outfield when the funeral procession turned onto Pete Rose Way, slowly rolling toward the open back gate at Cincinnati's Great American Ball Park.

The rumble of the motorcycle brigade filled the downtown streets, a roar loud enough to make the ticket takers, security officers and ushers - all of whom volunteered to work the funeral for free - wince.

They had been at the baseball park since 5 a.m. yesterday, preparing to honor Army Staff Sgt. Keith Matthew Maupin on grounds that traditionally pay homage to a different type of hero. By the time the funeral started eight hours later, the general crowd would be in the thousands.

Some of the mourners had come to see for themselves that Maupin was finally home. Others were here to find something - a face, a name, an icon - to help them remain connected to a war the country is steadily losing interest in.

That search led them to a casket that rested atop the pitcher's mound of the Cincinnati Reds' ballpark.

It was a long overdue homecoming. On April 9, 2004, while on a security detail protecting a civilian convoy west of Baghdad, Maupin's Army unit was attacked and the young soldier abducted.

About three months after his abductors released a videotape of him, another tape claimed to show Maupin being shot in the back of the head and falling into a grave. But the video never showed the soldier's face and Maupin's remains were found only last month.

In Biloxi, Mississippi:

Army Spec. Benjamin Brosh was laid to rest at Biloxi National Cemetery on Saturday, about a week after he died in an explosion in Iraq.

"He knew there was risk involved, but he wasn't afraid to die," said Father Patrick Mockler of Our Lady of Fatima Church, where services were held.

"He died doing what he loved - serving his country in the military," Mockler told the hundreds of mourners at the church.

In Gaylord, Michigan:

U.S. Army Pfc. John Thomas Bishop came home Tuesday morning. The Michigan National Guard Honor Guard greeted his American flag-draped casket about 10 a.m. at the Gaylord Regional Airport where his family stood shivering and light snowflakes fell.

The 22-year-old Gaylord soldier died in Iraq Wednesday, April 23, when a Mine Resistant Ambush Protected (MRAP) vehicle carrying six soldiers rolled down a hill into a canal.

Approximately 25 family and friends stood waiting for the airplane to arrive, crying. Bishop?s mother, Gaye Bishop, reportedly collapsed on the tarmac.

The Honor Guard had tears in their eyes as they carried the casket to the hearse.

Throughout the state of California:

Across the nation, more than 4,600 have died while in service to the country. Of the California dead, the median age was 23. Their deaths left 205 widows and three widowers, and 300 children who will grow up without their fathers, two without their mothers. Thirty-eight of the 492 were engaged.

About 67% were in the Army, Army National Guard or Army Reserve; 27% in the Marine Corps or Marine Corps Reserve. The Air Force accounted for 2%, the Navy and Navy Reservewomen for 4%. Two percent of those killed were

At least 59 were immigrants. The state's two largest cities, Los Angeles and San Diego, have had the most casualties, but statistics suggest that, per capita, the sacrifice has fallen more heavily on smaller cities, suburbs and farm towns.

The high schools with the most graduates killed are in Clovis (six), Hemet (five) and Simi Valley (four).

But numbers alone are a woeful way to describe the continuing death toll. Each death leaves dreams unfulfilled.

From sea to shining sea, a roll call of dreams unfulfilled.

Once a year isn't enough. Not by a long shot.

An appropriate, mournful, coda by a man who has some credibility, a former Captain in the British Life Guards and a combat veteran, James Blunt: Carry You Home

Full post as published by Counseling Kevin on May 26, 2008 (boomark / email).