EDITOR’S NOTE: Karen McKay, a retired U.S. Army lieutenant colonel, is a resident of Leicester.

By KAREN MCKAY

Special to the Daily Planet

He was a WWII fighter pilot. His ashes rested in a polished wooden urn at the front of the little funeral chapel. His life had been full of years, years of success, of joy, of respect, of love of country. A man who had led a Godly, honest life.

The chapel is spare but tasteful, a few rows of polished wooden pews. Suitable for use by any religion or no religion for the last farewell to one who had served his or her country in uniform.

This day it was crowded with people come to say their final goodbyes to this veteran, husband, businessman, father, brother, cousin, uncle, neighbor, friend, philanthropist, civic servant. His beloved wife of more than 60 years sat in the center of the first row, surrounded by family. One person after another came forward at the invitation of the pastor to relate a brief anecdote about the good man who had touched so many lives, painting a rich tapestry of a well-lived life. There were many more who wished to pay tribute, but the clock was ticking.

A flag, folded in the proper triangle, was presented to the widow by an Air Force captain. From somewhere, a recording of taps was played. A volley of shots from an unseen rifle squad outside rang out. It sounded like a live final salute, not a recording, although a percussive shock wave of rifle fire could not be sensed through closed doors and windows.

In the silence that followed, a casually-dressed cemetery employee, a young woman, walked in, picked up the urn and walked out with it. Another employee invited the mourners to the patio outside the chapel, and they obediently filed out into the sunshine.

With the grieving widow, they watched the young woman get on a four-wheeler with the urn and drive down a slope to a spot where two men leaned on shovels. The employee in control of the mourners, having allowed a few respectful minutes, directed them toward the exit to the parking lot.

One of the mourners muttered that it was like seeing someone take out the trash when that woman took the urn from the podium.

When I moved to Western North Carolina, I was drafted for the Honor Guard at my new Legion post. The team was busy, rendering honors at several funerals a week. They needed an officer, and even better, I was field grade, a lieutenant colonel (retired.) Tradition calls for the folded flag to be presented to the next of kin by a uniformed member of the branch of service and the same or higher rank as the deceased whenever possible.

The services in the chapel were solemnly and movingly conducted by a retired Chief Master Sergeant of the US Air Force. But the mourners could not accompany the deceased to the grave site, would not experience the moving ceremony of the traditional military graveside honors ceremony and the closure it offers.

I asked the cemetery director why we didn’t have graveside services. “Prohibited by OSHA,” he snapped. OSHA? What does OSHA have to do with funerals? I called the Occupational Safety and Health Administration in Washington. “We don’t have anything to do with funerals.”

So I contacted the office that administers North Carolina State Veterans Cemeteries. The Veterans Cemetery Program Manager wrote a letter to me, saying that, well, “There are many reasons for the procedures we use during burial operations.  The ‘OSHA’ reason given to you is just one of the many reasons, but not the primary reason...We do not conduct or allow graveside services, because we follow the procedures used by the National Cemeteries... This procedure is done at all National Cemeteries.  This is the procedure that we use in the conduct of interment services. It is an efficient procedure...”

I’m an old soldier. I’ve attended or participated in many graveside services in national cemeteries. I called Arlington National Cemetery to see if there had been a change in policy. There had not. 

Our Honors team commander informed me that he had been ordered by our cemetery director to get rid of me or the Legion team would not be permitted to perform Honors in the future at his cemetery. I’d rocked the boat. It is not good to mess with a bureaucrat’s fiefdom. 

I had the opportunity in a veterans meeting to ask this same cemetery director again about graveside services. Not permitted because “it would be offensive to the mourners to see the backhoe next to the grave.” The director addressed another veterans meeting. I was there, and again asked about graveside services. Not permitted. Why? “Well, it could be snowing, or raining, or very hot. We don’t want our mourners to be uncomfortable.”

That is the fact. The North Carolina Department of Military and Veteran Affairs prohibits graveside services in its veterans cemeteries, and requires mourners to exit the grounds immediately after the chapel service.

Why? It just is. Because they can set their rules. Those rules do not provide the dignity and honor that the deceased veteran deserves, and the closure his or her mourners need. They’re just rules.