Soldier's Son

4. The Memorial Day Parade and Ceremony

THE fllEfllORIRL DRV PRRRDE HOD CEREIfiOflY Masontown, Pennsylvania May 1948 We watched the Memorial Day parade from our screened-in, second-story porch, shouting and waving to neighbors lining the street and to friends marching in the parade. The region's high school bands, Scout troops, and men in uniforms marched, carrying banners . New convertibles and old, shined-up roadsters puttered slowly by, bedecked with crepe paper, pretty girls, and dignitaries. Youngsters rode bicycleswith red, white, and blue streamers trailing from the handlebars and woven between the spokes. Firemen clung to the {24} I) THE MEMORIAL DAY PARADE AND CEREMONY { 25 } sides and the back of their newest truck, as the driver revved up the engine, flashed its lights, and blew its horn and siren. Men and women in brightly colored western outfits rode well-groomed horses. One lady in a fancy suit and a top hat sat astride a high-steppingTennessee walker that made a loud clop-clop-clop sound as it gaited by. Several children rode their ponies, some with braided manes and long ribbons intertwined in their tails. Just after the American Legion contingent passed by our house, Mom led myolder brother, mysister, and me through the side street, across Washington Street, and beyond the red stone parking lot by the football field to the cemetery.Mom carried a triangular-folded flag that she had taken from a box in her closet. The scent of mothballs swirled around us as we walked. When we neared the large trees by the cemetery's entrance, we could hear the combined church choirs singing "The Battle Hymn of the Republic." In the beauty of the lilies Christ was born across the sea, I With a glory in His bosom that transfigures you and me:... At the entrance, Mom paused, looked around slowly, took a deep breath, and waded into the crowd, nodding her head with a fixed smile as folks greeted her. { 26 } THE MEMORIAL DAYPARADE AND CEREMONY As He died to make men holy, let us die to make men free, I While God is marching on. I Glory! Glory! Hallelujah ! I Glory! Glory! Hallelujah! I Glory, glory, Halklujah! I His truth is marching on. We made our waythrough the crowd of townsfolk to the reserved chairs at the front. The Breakwells, the Vittones , and the McCanns were already seated there, along with others I didn't know. Several women held folded flags on their laps. Grandmother McClelland, with her shiny pin of the Gold Star Mothers, had saved seats for us next to her. In front of the choirs, on a row of chairs facing us sat lots of preachers. Iknewour minister, ReverendShields, and recognized my buddy Ronnie Smith's minister, Reverend Enid Pierce, as well as Father Kolb, the priest at the church my cousins TommyDick and Rosemary attended, and Father Gaydos from the Russian Orthodox church. The priests weredressed in black suits with stiff white collars around their necks. Reverend Shields wore anavyblue suit and astriped tie. Mrs. Pierce stood out in a light blue jacket and skirt with matching hat and shoes; a colorful, long, silk scarf draped down the front of her white blouse. Next to her sat some men in different kinds of service uniforms; they had medals THE MEMORIAL DAYPARADE AND CEREMONY { 2/ } like the ones I had seen in Mom's bottom dresser drawer. On the end in dark business suits sat men whom Mom called "our representatives." They offered prayers and made speeches between the hymns the choir sang. Grandma McClelland sang and hummed along with the choir. When they sang "My Country, Tis of Thee" and came to "land where my fathers died," I thought of what my family had said earlier during the parade: your father was a war hero, died for our country , saved the world from the Nazis. As the ceremony progressed, the flag on Mom's lap, warmed by the sun, radiated waves of mothball odor, as did the uniforms of the solemn-faced men who marched crisply past us in single file, rifles shouldered, to the woods where the gravestones ended. Following muted commands, piercing rifle shots flew into the blinding sun overhead. A pair of startled birds flapped out of the trees. After a pause came another volley. Another pause and another volley. Just when I recovered from one sound blast, another one hit. With each rifle report Mom's head...