Mission to Miramar National Cemetery

The published schedule indicated staging was at 12:00 PM.  As usual, however, they began arriving at 11:15 AM.  Older, graying gents coming together for a solemn purpose.  For some, it would be the first time.  For others, it was another in a countless series of similar events, which they call missions.

By ones and twos they arrive at the designated location.  After parking, they shake hands all around, greeting familiar faces and learning new names.  The most common conversations revolved around shared experiences and locations.  You know, the old “have you been” to some place or another.  There was some low key chats, even though they gathered for an exceptionally serious purpose.  Listening, the quiet discussions weren’t any different that others overheard at similar missions.  But then something changed.

The reason for their mission was the death of an active duty soldier, one who had gone to war.  Like many, all too many missions, a member of our Armed Forces had died and this bunch of gray beards assembled to help honor the fallen.  In this case, the cause of death was suicide.  A senseless loss of life.  A warrior dying not from enemy action, but by his own hand.  Heads were shaking all around. 

Then it was time for the first portion of the mission: standing a flag line, which is comprised of the gray beards standing at Attention and holding American flags at Present Arms as the casket was transferred to the hearse.  Standing there, each could see the visible, painful anguish of the family.  The cries and tears hammering each of the volunteer gray beards.  After the dignified transfer of the casket to the hearse, these older gents then mounted their motorcycles and escorted the soldier, his family, and friends to the Miramar National Cemetery.

At the Cemetery, because of another funeral, there was some down time awaiting the services.  Gathered in small groups, these older, graying gents vocalized their anger.  “Why isn’t someone helping these young men?”  “Why are there so many suicides among the young generation, active duty and veteran?”  “Too damned many suicides!”  Some even stated that for the grace of God, maybe they would have ended up that way.  The overwhelming sentiment, however, is anger.  

Anger at a nation that sends its young off to war and then doesn’t adequately take care of them after they come home.  One muses, “If there are battle buddies in combat, why don’t they have battle buddies back at home?” 

Gearing up again, they move down to the specified site for the final elements of the ceremony.  Once more, the family anguish hits everyone.  Somber and solemn become inadequate to describe the scene.  A few words from the Army Chaplain, rifle volleys, the playing of Taps, and old warriors from another generation holding American flags at the Present Arms.  Painful wailing. 

All due to a young warrior’s suicide.

When will our country step up and adequately assist this generation, active duty and veterans?