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237 years ago today in Tun Tavern (Phila PA)
- Thread starter bczoom
- Start date
Semper Fi and thanks for your service.
This story is an annual repeat but worth reading. Have tissues handy and your screen may get blurry.
Cemetery Watchman.
My friend Kevin and I are volunteers at a National cemetery in Oklahoma and put in a few days a month in a 'slightly larger' uniform. Today had been a long, long day and I just wanted to get the day over with and go down to Smokey's and have a cold one. Sneaking a look at my watch,
I saw the time, 16:55. Five minutes to go before the cemetery gates are closed for the day.
Full dress was hot in the August sun Oklahoma summertime was as bad as ever--the heat and humidity at the same level--both too high.
I saw the car pull into the drive, '69 or '70 model Cadillac Deville, looked factory-new. It pulled into the parking lot at a snail's pace.. An old woman got out so slow I thought she was paralyzed; she had a cane and a sheaf of flowers--about four or five bunches as best I could tell.
I couldn't help myself. The thought came unwanted, and left a slightly bitter taste: 'She's going to spend an hour, and for this old soldier, my hip hurts like hell and I'm ready to get out of here right now!' But for this day, my duty was to assist anyone coming in.
Kevin would lock the 'In' gate and if I could hurry the old biddy along, we might make it to Smokey's in time.
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 looked at me closer.
'Wounded in action, I see. Well done, Marine. I'll be as quick as I can.'
I lied a little bigger:
'No hurry, ma'am.'
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 flower bunches 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 turned away and made a straight line for the World War II section, stopping at one stone I saw a tear slowly tracking its way down her cheek.
She put a bunch on a stone; the name was,
Stephen X. Davidson, USMC, 1943.
She went up the row a ways and laid another bunch on a stone,
Stanley J. Wieserman, USMC, 1944.
She paused for a second and more tears flowed.
'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.'
'Oh!' she chuckled quietly.
'Son, me and old age ain't too friendly.'
She headed down the walk I'd pointed at. She stopped at a couple of stones before she found the ones she wanted. She placed a bunch on, Larry Wieserman, USMC, 1968, and the last on Darrel Wieserman, USMC, 1970.
She stood there and murmured a few words I still couldn't make out and more tears flowed.
'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.'
Kevin started to say something, but saw the look I gave him. He broke the rules to get us down the service road fast. We beat her.
She hadn't made it around the rotunda yet.
'Kevin, stand at attention next to the gatepost. Follow my lead.'
I humped it across the drive to the other post.
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 have to hand it to Kevin; he never blinked an eye--full dress attention and a salute that would make his DI proud. She drove through that gate with two old worn-out soldiers giving her a send-off she deserved, for service rendered to her country, and for knowing duty, honor and sacrifice far beyond the realm of most.
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!
Cemetery Watchman.
My friend Kevin and I are volunteers at a National cemetery in Oklahoma and put in a few days a month in a 'slightly larger' uniform. Today had been a long, long day and I just wanted to get the day over with and go down to Smokey's and have a cold one. Sneaking a look at my watch,
I saw the time, 16:55. Five minutes to go before the cemetery gates are closed for the day.
Full dress was hot in the August sun Oklahoma summertime was as bad as ever--the heat and humidity at the same level--both too high.
I saw the car pull into the drive, '69 or '70 model Cadillac Deville, looked factory-new. It pulled into the parking lot at a snail's pace.. An old woman got out so slow I thought she was paralyzed; she had a cane and a sheaf of flowers--about four or five bunches as best I could tell.
I couldn't help myself. The thought came unwanted, and left a slightly bitter taste: 'She's going to spend an hour, and for this old soldier, my hip hurts like hell and I'm ready to get out of here right now!' But for this day, my duty was to assist anyone coming in.
Kevin would lock the 'In' gate and if I could hurry the old biddy along, we might make it to Smokey's in time.
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 looked at me closer.
'Wounded in action, I see. Well done, Marine. I'll be as quick as I can.'
I lied a little bigger:
'No hurry, ma'am.'
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 flower bunches 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 turned away and made a straight line for the World War II section, stopping at one stone I saw a tear slowly tracking its way down her cheek.
She put a bunch on a stone; the name was,
Stephen X. Davidson, USMC, 1943.
She went up the row a ways and laid another bunch on a stone,
Stanley J. Wieserman, USMC, 1944.
She paused for a second and more tears flowed.
'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.'
'Oh!' she chuckled quietly.
'Son, me and old age ain't too friendly.'
She headed down the walk I'd pointed at. She stopped at a couple of stones before she found the ones she wanted. She placed a bunch on, Larry Wieserman, USMC, 1968, and the last on Darrel Wieserman, USMC, 1970.
She stood there and murmured a few words I still couldn't make out and more tears flowed.
'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.'
Kevin started to say something, but saw the look I gave him. He broke the rules to get us down the service road fast. We beat her.
She hadn't made it around the rotunda yet.
'Kevin, stand at attention next to the gatepost. Follow my lead.'
I humped it across the drive to the other post.
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 have to hand it to Kevin; he never blinked an eye--full dress attention and a salute that would make his DI proud. She drove through that gate with two old worn-out soldiers giving her a send-off she deserved, for service rendered to her country, and for knowing duty, honor and sacrifice far beyond the realm of most.
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!
Great story BCZoom. I won't try to top it but here's mine.
When I got my draft notice I asked to be a Marine. Out of the 1,100 guys at the processing center that day, April 1st 1968, only two of us were there to be Marines.
When I was asked why I made such a foolish choice, one that would put me most certainly in 'Nam, I replied "It was to be surrounded by the best, the meanest Son-O-Bitches in the fight" In truth it was to be sure my mom would have something to bury.
I didn't pass the physical that day, so I got to stay home after one day as a Marine recruit. My friends called me lucky. Funny, none of them are in my life now. Marines are forever, so I just wonder about how lucky I was.
Air force guys have their heads stuck in the clouds
Army has their butts stuck in the latrines
And while the navy swabs get a good sun tan on the deck, marines guard the gates of heaven from the dogs of hell.
I appreciate the service of every man and woman in every branch of the military. Their service is heroic, not for what they have done but for what they are willing to do so I and my children can sleep safe. I would be proud to have stood on the wall with any one of them,,,,,
But I wish, I could call myself, a Marine.
When I got my draft notice I asked to be a Marine. Out of the 1,100 guys at the processing center that day, April 1st 1968, only two of us were there to be Marines.
When I was asked why I made such a foolish choice, one that would put me most certainly in 'Nam, I replied "It was to be surrounded by the best, the meanest Son-O-Bitches in the fight" In truth it was to be sure my mom would have something to bury.
I didn't pass the physical that day, so I got to stay home after one day as a Marine recruit. My friends called me lucky. Funny, none of them are in my life now. Marines are forever, so I just wonder about how lucky I was.
Air force guys have their heads stuck in the clouds
Army has their butts stuck in the latrines
And while the navy swabs get a good sun tan on the deck, marines guard the gates of heaven from the dogs of hell.
I appreciate the service of every man and woman in every branch of the military. Their service is heroic, not for what they have done but for what they are willing to do so I and my children can sleep safe. I would be proud to have stood on the wall with any one of them,,,,,
But I wish, I could call myself, a Marine.
Last edited:
mak2
Active member
Semper Fi Marine.
Yea, this is my son's first full day as a Marine. I cant remember if I talked about it on this forum or not, I have been on that sorry ass phone of mine in San Diego and I have a hard time with it. I am home and on my computer now. Still cant type. Anyway I was back on MCRD 32 years and 5 days after I first arrived on base. After all that time it did not seem much had changed. I kinda got to wander around quite a bit and I remembered where some stuff was. The Squad Bays have not changed a bit. The DI's and recruits look and act the same. The grad ceremony was a lot longer than I remember, but I am not sure how much I forgot. I will still tell him how tough the old Corps was, but I think the Marine Corps hasn't changed much.
30 years ago today I was three days past my 15th anniversary of active service. Seems both long ago, and just yesterday.
Getting old is a bitch.
Semper fi, Marines. I may have picked on you sea-going bellhops in the past, but I really am proud to call you all,
"Brother"!
Semper fi, Marines. I may have picked on you sea-going bellhops in the past, but I really am proud to call you all,
"Brother"!
Ditto! Cheers!
TexasAirCooler
New member
My daughter graduated M.C.R.D.P.I. on Nov. 9th. It was very moving to be part of the birthday celebration on the 8th, depicting the history of the Marine Corps, the way the uniforms have changed and the cutting of the cake.
TexasAirCooler
New member
Will do!