Search the Community
Showing results for tags 'jessie'.
Found 1 result
-
as some of you know i serve in the army national guard in Ohio i am also privilaged enough to serve on the honor guard for the last 7 years the cincinnati enquire did a story about the way we ( cincinnatians) honor our vets if you like you can follow this link to check out the pics and video http://news.cincinnati.com/multimedia. the still photo's are titled "honor guard" Local news Cincinnati.Com » Local news Last Updated: 2:16 pm | Friday, January 22, 2010 A promise kept: Saying goodbye to veterans By Cliff Radel • cradel@enquirer.com • January 22, 2010 Comments (8) Recommend (5) Print this page ShareThis Font size:AA WESTWOOD - They call themselves promise keepers. For, when a veteran dies, they make sure Uncle Sam keeps his word. "Our government only promises so much for our service," Army Master Sgt. Steven Jessie said as he shivered in the mid-morning chill of fog-blanketed Baltimore Pike Cemetery. "They might put us in harm's way. They might feed us crappy food. They might not always take the best care of us. But, they do promise to remember our service and I'm here to keep that promise." • Photos: Military honor guard Jessie stood just outside the cemetery's chapel. He adjusted and readjusted his spotless white gloves. He repositioned the shiny black visor of his cap. He gave his dress blues the once-over. Time to for another "mission." That's what he calls leading the honor guard at a veteran's funeral - another "mission." The 50-year-old coordinator for the Ohio Army National Guard's Southern Ohio Honors Team averages 30 funerals a month. A soldier since enlisting out of Norwood High school in 1978, he has been on honor guard detail - with time off for a tour of duty in Iraq - since 2002. Two years earlier, President Bill Clinton signed into law the act ensuring that every honorably discharged veteran can receive, if requested, a funeral with military honors. Those honors include at least two members of the armed forces, the ceremonial folding and presentation of the flag and the playing of taps by a bugler or a recording. The act, and fate, created a need for honor guards. World War II veterans are dying at the rate of 1,000 per day. The wars in Iraq and Afghanistan created a shortage of qualified personnel. The duty then fell to the National Guard. "And so, sir," Jessie said in his yes-sir, no-sir, take-no-prisoners master sergeant tone of voice, "this has become my full-time job. "And, this," he noted, "is my team." He nodded to two sergeants - Ron Henry of Price Hill and Franqui Ovington of Blue Ash - and one civilian volunteer bugler, Larry DuPree of Montgomery. "We are waiting today," he added in a somber near whisper, "for our guest of honor." Jessie likes to know "about the veteran we are honoring. Was he young? Or, was he in World War II, a Private Ryan, as I like to call them?" He holds onto that knowledge and then he lets it go. "In the end, it doesn't matter whether he was young or old," he said. "Each veteran is going to get our best." On this day, the guest of honor is the late James Bussell Sr. The carpenter and painter died Jan. 13 at 54. Early in a life cut short by a massive stroke, the Price Hill man enlisted in the Army, attained the rank of private and served two years. "He was stateside the whole time," recalled his sister, Patricia Collins of Bridgetown. "He never talked much about his time in the Army. But he was proud to serve. So, we wanted him to have military honors because he deserved a great send-off." Private Bussell's send-off was one hour away. While mourners paid their last respects miles away in Price Hill at the Ralph Meyers & Deters Funeral Home, Jessie greeted his team. They had to go over the day's drill. "We will stand by the chapel's entrance," he said. "As the hearse approaches, we'll greet the guest of honor. I will call my soldiers and my bugler to attention and we will salute. When the hearse stops, we will stand by at parade rest. When they bring the casket out of the hearse, we will salute." After the casket passes the honor guards, they will follow it into the chapel. "We stand in the back," said Jessie. "After everyone has spoken, we approach the casket and salute. "The salute is the bugler's cue to exit the building and play taps. We hold the salute through taps." Bugler DuPree nodded and looked down at his horn. He wanted to make sure no fingerprints marred its highly polished silver bell. Some honor guards use a digital bugle. A soldier holds the horn, presses a button and out pop the notes. "They're fake!" Jessie said. "When the family sees that horn with the device in the bell, they're going to think their loved one's service didn't mean that much. That's why I always use a live bugler. I use Larry a lot. In over 300 funerals, he's never blown a sour note." DuPree is a man of exactitudes. The former Air Force medic who served in Vietnam during the Tet offensive keeps track of the number of funerals where he's played taps since 2007. Today's mission is No. 378. The team's combined total exceeds 3,000 veterans. "Some days, we have three funerals," said Jessie. In the war on mortality, there are no cease-fires. DuPree keeps another number - 368 - in his head and in his heart. That number stands for the missions he logged in Vietnam. None lasted longer than 20 minutes. "You picked up the wounded in a helicopter and took them to a hospital," he said. "I never knew their names." No time for chit-chat when blood's spurting from a wound. Still, DuPree said, the impersonality of that "always bothered me." To make amends, he performs a ritual before playing taps. As he puts his bugle to his lips, he whispers the name of the veteran who's about to be buried. The flag-folding ceremony is all about ritual. "The folds are triangles and creases and getting it right," said Ovington. "You say over and over to yourself: 'Don't drop the flag.' " She stopped talking and stared at Henry's cap visor. It was smudged. That had to go. He buffed the visor with his glove. Smudge gone. "One funeral I drove my motorcycle," Henry said. "I put my jacket in the trunk. Sgt. Jessie told me: 'I better not see so much as one wrinkle.' " If the coat had been wrinkled, Jessie said, "I would have sent him home. We must look our best." Jessie's passion for the mission is palpable. When asked why he cares so much, he took a very deep breath. "I want the family to know," he replied, "that their veteran did something that I regard as very honorable." He stopped again. He heard the low hum of a hearse's engine. The guest of honor had arrived. Just as rehearsed, the team assembled and slowly saluted as the hearse came to a stop. "Sgt. Jessie is right out of central casting," said funeral director Terry Deters. "But he and his team are not putting on a show. They are utterly sincere." As the pallbearers assembled, Jessie and his team stood at ease. A woman stepped forward and hugged each honor guard. "The men and women in uniform are America's true heroes," said Geraldine Dill, a sister-in-law of James Bussell. "I just wanted them to know they're appreciated." After the hugs, Jessie called his team to attention. The pallbearers struggled to take the casket from the hearse to the chapel. Some brief remarks followed. At the conclusion, the team marched to the casket. The bugler opened the chapel doors and marched in the opposite direction. As the honor guard saluted the flag-draped casket, DuPree brought his horn to his lips. He softly said "James Bussell." Then, taps' mournful notes drifted through the chapel's open doors. When DuPree finished playing, he did an about-face and slowly retraced his steps and delivered a smooth salute. That was the team's cue to begin folding the flag. The chapel filled with the swishing sounds of cotton gloves folding a cotton flag. With the final fold, Henry and Ovington saluted the casket and turned to leave. The crowd silently parted, making room for them to leave. Jessie held the flag to his chest as he walked to where the guest of honor's son, Jimmy Bussell Jr. sat. Leaning over, making direct eye contact - "I want them to know that what I'm about to say is personal and not mechanical" - and speaking ever so clearly, the master sergeant declared: "As a representative of the United States Army, it is my privilege to present to you this flag. Let it be a symbol of our nation's grateful appreciation for the honorable and faithful service rendered to our country and our flag by your loved one." He handed the flag to the weeping young man. Slowly straightening his back, Jessie raised his right hand in slow motion. For the last time, he saluted Private Bussell. Another mission accomplished. After the crowd departed, the three sergeants removed their jackets and placed then in garment bags. Zippppppppp! They closed the bags in unison. Those dress blue jackets must stay wrinkle-free. Tomorrow, there will be another mission. Another veteran to bury. And, another promise to keep. 8 Comments >> Read and share your thoughts on this story. A Promise Kept (02:16) They call themselves promise keepers. For, when a veteran dies, they make sure Uncle Sam keeps his word. http://news.cincinnati.com/section/VideoNetwork?bctid=62892581001
