Final Farewell
A group of veterans gathers at the American Legion Hall in Lyndora, though not all belong to the post.
They're dressed alike, but hail from all branches of service. Their histories span from Desert Storm to World War II.
So many stories to tell. But the endings converge in a common conviction.
“I think we're all dedicated to providing a service,” said retired Navy Chief Ben Rattigan of Butler, who coordinates the group.
The service Rattigan cites is offered by the VFW Post 249-American Legion Post 778 Honor Guard. Called upon by funeral directors when requested by families, the group plays a role in burying veterans.
“We all have a sense of pride,” Rattigan said. “It's hard to see a veteran go down that you don't have this service.”
Flanking the mausoleum sidewalk at Memorial Park, 14 veterans in navy blazers quietly cross their white-gloved hands.A hearse arrives, and seven of them are called to present arms. The others stand at attention as a flag-draped casket is wheeled between them.Salutes remain steadfast. Grieving loved ones gather inside.The veterans then move away from the sidewalk, lining shoulder to shoulder against the building, where they stand throughout the events inside.As part of the service on this day, retired Lt. Col. Gary Kuhn speaks to the mourners about honor and duty and explains the 21-gun salute to follow: Seven riflemen will shoot three blank rounds to signify God, duty and country. The spent shells are folded into the flag, then presented to the family.Another member of the group, on hand with a bugle, concludes the service by playing taps. Although funeral durations can vary, the honor guard portion lasts roughly 10 minutes.Thirty-four volunteers make up the group, but not all were present that day.“Usually we have from 18 to 22,” explained Bob Cockroft, assistant coordinator of the group and an officer at VFW Post 249.“To do it right, we need about 14 guys,” he added, listing a speaker, bugler, chaplain and three flag folders along with the rifle squad and the person who directs them.
“We post two guys at the door,” he added. “Sometimes we actually have to be pallbearers.”Attending about 75 funerals each year, surplus in the roster ensures a minimum of 12 can show up each time — although when possible, all step forward.“I've really had to cut it off at 34,” Rattigan said, explaining most participants are retired and therefore available.“I only have a couple that work now, but they'll show up for a ritual in the evening.”With a high demand for its service, the honor guard sometimes does two graveside ceremonies a day. The rituals Rattigan speaks of are scaled-down versions at funeral homes when the group has a scheduling conflict.“(The funeral directors) know it's first come, first served,” Rattigan said. “But as long as I can work it in, were going to do it.”Using the telephone to summon each member, Rattigan puts in the hours. It's time-consuming, but appropriate.“It's better if I call them personally,” Rattigan said. “I try to get their wives' names down. ... They seem to know my voice now. I'm like the grim reaper or something,” he said.“(But) if they can be there, they'll be there. I've got a good bunch of guys.”
Although Rattigan might fear his requests seem morbid, the volunteers are pleased to comply.“It takes a special person to do anything like this,” said Bill Jackson, 82, an Army veteran from Butler. “It's a nice outfit. I'm glad to be part of it.”Since joining nearly four years ago, Jackson has missed only a few funerals, describing his service as gratifying rather than sad.The same holds true for Jim Bianchi, commander of VFW Post 249.Although Bianchi joined a year ago after he retired, the Vietnam veteran estimates attending 20-plus funerals.“I don't count 'em. I just go. It's one of the most personally gratifying things I've ever done. I always feel good at the end: that I was able to do this,” he added.“Does it still raise the hair on my arms? Yes.”“It's an honor to do this for my comrades,” agreed 64-year-old Ted Anthony of Center Township, who also served in Vietnam. “I made that commitment when I was in the service.”Ray Laurent committed about seven years ago after attending his own brother's funeral.“The honor guard came up and did his service,” said Laurent, 87, of Penn Township.“There were three fellas that graduated from high school with me. It really impressed me. I said ‘I want to be a part of that.'”
According to members, taking part entails more than showing up. The men buy their own grey pants, blue blazers, white shirts and black shoes, but the gloves and flag-themed neckties are issued. Funeral directors bring the flag.Once summoned, the men meet up to carpool from the Lyndora American Legion or Butler VFW, depending on the cemetery locale. Unlike some honor guards, the Butler group doesn't charge a fee.“They're not footing the bill for our gas or none of that. We're all dedicated to doing (funerals for) all veterans,” Rattigan said, noting the occasional donation goes to the clubs.Members say taking part also can mean burying friends. In those cases, the members will be offered the chance to present the flag to the family.Norm Rettig, an 85-year-old World War II veteran, estimates attending “hundreds and hundreds” of funerals since joining 45 years ago, about the time the group was formed. Many were funerals of friends.“Yes. I've had some very very close friends — and it really upset me, but I wanted to be there,” he said.“I'm always up front, and I can stand there and look at the family when taps is going. It's hard on you. It's hard on you even if you don't know them personally.”“Sometimes it's very hard for me not to tear up, and sometimes I do,” agreed Cockroft.“In the end, they always thank you. I've had two or three that would walk around and shake every man's hand and say, ‘Thank you so much,'” he said.But the gratitude goes both ways.“We always thank the family for allowing us to present the military honor,” Cockroft added.“We are there for the family, but we are also there for the deceased and to honor (them) in (their) service to our country.”
