We Have Signed The Check

The Great War ended on November 11, 1918. American soldiers, sailors and marines came home singing “How you gonna keep ‘em down on the farm after they’ve seen Paree”.

Fifty three years earlier the War Between the States ended in the drawing room of the McLane home in the hamlet of Appamattox Courthouse. Not until our young men followed General John J. “Blackjack” Pershing into battle did sectionalism near an end. With the onset of WWI, our country had finally come together in a common purpose. It was difficult for a Southerner to hold a grudge against a Northerner when they had stood shoulder-to-shoulder in the muddy trenches of the “Front”.

From this came the American Legion. Posts were formed across the nation. The men of The Great War soon welcomed those of World War II, who then took into their ranks veterans of Korea, Viet Nam and other combat actions.

Post 241 of Sneads was one of these Posts. In recent years it has had a membership of between seventy five and a hundred, with a strong Auxiliary that complements its work. It is often the patriotic conscience of the area. The Post awards scholarships to worthy high school seniors. It provides for sending juniors to Boys’ State. On appropriate days American flags are placed along U. S. 90 in mounts installed by Legion members. The flags are supplied by the Post, and Dillon Kilpatrick, with some assistance from others, sees to it that they are put up and taken down with respect and care. Dillon also was the “mover and shaker” who led the charge to construct the monument to our county’s fallen heroes that stands on our courthouse lawn.

Dillon’s image is engraved on the Korean War Wall in Washington. I was standing in line one day at the Wall: We were all quiet and… there he was! There was no doubt! I laughed out loud, and got some strange stares.

Post 241 has an Honors Detail. Throughout our part of Florida and in Alabama and Georgia, about a hundred times a year, the Detail renders the final salute to a veteran, usually at graveside, on occasion in a memorial setting. We stand in a single file facing the casket, each man armed with the Ml Garand rifle. A leader reads appropriate words and prays. He then folds the Flag and presents it to a survivor. We fire three volleys. A bugle sounds Taps. We have rendered the final salute to a comrade. Our pay is the honor that we receive by doing this.

Sometimes the salute is referred to as a “21 Gun” salute. Only a President is entitled to twenty one volleys. All veterans are entitled to receive three volleys. One interpretation for this is that the firing signifies that the guns are empty, and peace, at least for this veteran, is here.

Taps is played electronically. We would like to have a regular bugler. The notes ring out and fade into silence, much as it has been played since the Civil War: at the end of the day and at the end of an earthly life. Guy Edwards holds the bugle, and afterwards he may be complimented for his skill. Usually he just thanks the person.

The volleys ring out. Sometimes we are coordinated; often the sound is ragged. The Garand is much heavier to us than it was fifty years ago when we first made acquaintance with this instrument of war that is now a reminder of peace.

One day stands out in my memory. Early morning found us at a small country church. It was nestled among old trees, and the cemetery was typical: tree roots pushing against grave markers and grass overgrowing plots. Inside we heard singing: Just a Closer Walk, When the Saints Go Marching In, I‘ll Fly Away. The pallbearers carried the casket to the grave and we did our part. We then drove to Tallahassee to a well kept memory garden setting. A large canopy protected the family. A motorcycle group, carrying flags, arrived. A piper played Going Home and Amazing Grace. Again we honored the dead. Two settings, different but very much alike.

We have had a couple of World War II members. C. A. Dickson and Fauline Wester are of that generation, but no longer participate. Adell Miles was with us until a short time before his death.

George Segrest, a career Army NCO who served in Korea and Viet Nam, is often there. He places his cane on the ground and fires the Garand, and then retrieves the cane.



One of our newer members is Gene Lanier, owner of the Lanier Andler Funeral Home. We rag him about his participation, and accuse him of spying on his competition.

Reverend David Pipping of Victory Christian Academy wields his rifle well, even though he could by profession be standing by the graveside.

Jerry Alexander, Max Basford, Doug Neal, Bobby McDaniel, Ralph Camp, Clark Riddle and others are there.

The flag is folded, and presented “on behalf of a grateful Nation”. I have heard that each fold has a significance, but I do not know. When we fold it we want it done right, and tight, and smooth, so that it will be a remembrance for the family. And we salute the folded ensign one last time.

Glenn Edwards is our presenter. He does the job beautifully, from memory. He tells of the feeling we have for our comrade, even though we do not always know his name. He prays, expressing the certainty of the Resurrection. When Glenn is not present the task falls to me. I have not yet memorized the words, so I must read them. But I do add something that I feel tells what all veterans offer to our country. It is simple.

“Each member of the Armed Forces has signed a check made payable to our Country. The amount is left blank, for it is good up to and including the member’s life.”

That says everything that needs to be said.