By Carol Lucas
Last month I wrote about the passing of a dear friend, Walter Ledbetter. Walt was a few days shy of his 94th birthday when he left us, and to say that he lived a very full life would be a huge understatement.
But this piece isn’t about Walt, although it is hard to write without referring to him. Instead it is about the military service held for him on Friday, Sept. 15.
You see, I had never attended a military funeral ceremony before. Yes, I probably saw clips that may have appeared on the news when some notable figure was interred in Arlington National Cemetery. On that note, I might mention that Colonel Ledbetter could have had his resting place in Arlington. God knows, he met every possible requirement and then some.
Not surprisingly, however, Walt opted for the place where he had spent a good part of his life, Beaufort. While I don’t know this for a certainty, I am willing to bet that his humility came into play when making that decision. I can almost hear him saying to his wife, “Hell, Nancy Belle, I don’t need a lot of pomp and circumstance at a place three states away.”
While there was pomp and circumstance at the Beaufort National Cemetery, it was completed with such exquisite understatement that I know Walt was looking on and smiling that wonderful grin that always encompassed his face.
The day was surprisingly cooler than the all-consuming heat that had held us hostage for so many days, and there was a comfortable breeze. As we stood waiting for the ceremony to commence, old acquaintances were renewed, and new introductions were made. I had come to know Walt’s two daughters and his grandchildren, now beautiful adults of whom he was very proud.
While we all agreed that we wished our reunion hadn’t been under these circumstances, hugs of long duration were exchanged, and yes, tears were shed. And the memories; we revisited those as well, and so we were able to laugh at a time of sorrow, a huge relief for all of us.
Finally, we were given the word that the cars could proceed to the small pavilion, and we slowly wound our way to the place where we would commemorate the life of a man so beloved. We were told to gather outside to view the flyover of three military fighter jets. When this occurred, the chills I experienced reflected gratitude more than anything. Gratitude in having been fortunate enough to attend this very meaningful ceremony and gratitude that I live in the United States of America. And most of all gratitude to all those like Walt Ledbetter, who fought and put their lives on the line so that we might live as we do.
Walt’s history while in the military is legendary. He flew helicopter missions that saved innumerable lives of those trapped in mine fields. One of those men who had been saved by Walt and his crew chose to come from Colorado to deliver a talk about his time serving under the Ledbetter command. I was taken, though not surprised, by the following … he conveyed that when Colonel Ledbetter met with his team the first time, his opening comment was, “I will not ask you to do anything that I won’t do myself.” He went on to talk about his time in Vietnam with Walt, and how he could not have asked for a more compassionate commander. Compassion, such a missing trait these days.
Two of Walt’s favorite poems were read by both grandchildren, showing another side of the man, the lover of poetry that a few of us knew. Then the flag was folded and presented to his wife with all the respect this demands. Yes, I had seen this gesture, and yet to observe the ritual, the exchange of those Marines who were there to honor someone whom I knew as a dear friend and consummate cosmopolitan maker, was something I will carry with me for the rest of my life.
And finally, there was the playing of the bagpipes. Is there a more sorrowful sound than the music put forth by this instrument? As they wailed the notes of ‘Amazing Grace’, the tears I had tried to control were no longer mine to hold back.
It was then that I was reminded of something that had occurred at my late husband’s celebration of life, held at my home. I had secured a recording of Amazing Grace to be played, but somehow forgot to do so. When I mentioned this to Walt and Nancy later, Walt replied, “I’m glad you forgot because I would have lost it. I always do when I hear that song.”
And so my introduction to a military funeral was that of someone I held close to my heart and perhaps it was meant to be that way. I strongly believe that Walt was watching all that took place. I will state with certitude that his pride as a Marine and the tribute provided by those from the local base fulfilled any ceremonial wishes he might have had. I am equally sure that he must have uttered the words “Semper Fi.”
Carol Lucas is a retired high school teacher and a Lady’s Island resident. She is the author of the recently published “A Breath Away: One Woman’s Journey Through Widowhood.”
