I have some memories in the back of my meandering mind that have never left me and even as I age they seem to be as vivid as ever. Growing up in Staples, a booming railroad town in those days, I would often go to the depot in the evenings and sit on the baggage carts that stayed stored under a sheltered corner of the building and wait for the trains to come in, There was something so mesmerizing about the power and might of those big steam engines in those days and I never tired of it.
The year was 1952 or 53 and we were in the middle of the Korean War. Several times a week freight trains came through town, loaded down with artillery, jeeps and tanks. But all of that wasn’t on my mind that day. I had only come to see the evening passenger train arriving. When the train shrieked into view with a blast of that whistle, clouds of steam, hissing brakes and those steel wheels sliding to a squealing stop on those steel rails; I jumped down off the cart to watch the passengers disembark. Right in front of me was the mail car and the baggage car. The door suddenly slid open and there stood two U.S. Marines in their red, white and blue uniforms. I froze in place because between them was a flag draped casket. I was only twelve that year but I knew what was happening and I turned and looked around the corner of the building and there was a waiting hearse.
Those Marines were so focused, so stoic, they didn’t even look real but as the funeral director came with the casket carrier they got off and followed their comrade to the vehicle. I was unable to move and I stood and cried. I knew about the war and I knew about what could happen but reading about it and seeing it, was something I wasn’t ready for. This wasn’t G.I. Joe; this was the real thing The Marines paid their final respects, got back on the train and the train immediately left. The engineer had been waiting for them to reboard. The hearse left down Fourth Street and I watched until it turned the corner and was out of sight. I never found out whom that Soldier was even though I looked in the papers. I wished I knew so I could have paid my respects in person. The depot served more destinations then just Staples and he may have lived a long way off. All I knew was that somewhere that night a grieving family had their son back and their lives were forever and immeasurably changed.
My life has been filled with many Veterans; most of then thankfully came back riding in the train and not like that. But every time one of them dies and is honored with a military funeral I think of that day and what it meant to me, as a kid, to see the respect and honor that had been afforded that soldier on his long way back home. Also it brought front and center to me, in a startling way, that the wages of war is often death. I don’t like war movies. It’s not entertaining to me, to see people killed even if we won the war.
So on this Veterans Day I salute all of you. I once bought a home and the loan officer told me they gave out points if you were a Veteran. Somehow I think heaven gives out those same points to Veterans. If not, I think they should.
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