By Tom Reilly
Today, we buried Elmer Joseph Heck, an American patriot. Army veteran. Vietnam warrior. Helicopter door gunner. I felt camaraderie with Elmer, as we traveled similar paths in war. By the grace of God, I had a softer landing. His wounds of war traveled home with him. He suffered from PTSD, alcoholism and paralysis. Elmer was bullied and homeless. What price must a patriot pay? How much is too much?
At 10:30, we gathered in Sylvan Park, the assembly area for the Barracks. Elmer’s burial was scheduled for 11:00, but they wanted us there early since it was a busy day at the Barracks.
Four motorcycles and ten cagers (biker jargon for cars and trucks) led his cremains to Committal Shelter Four. The shelters are roofed, open-air pavilions with columns on the perimeter—a blend of open air and intimacy. This covered shelter has two rows of seating and standing areas for the immediate family. That, along with the street, provides space for approximately 50 people. Elmer did not need that much space today. He didn’t even need two rows of benches since he had no family.
On this day, we were his family. We received that message in our mission sheet, “We are his family today.” Eight PGR members, two US Army Honor Guard members, four members of the Caseyville Polish American War Veterans rifle team, eleven various attendees which included his aging caretaker, the mayor of Waterloo, and a few local VFW members.
The tragic reality of his life added to the solemnity of this service today. Taps blew louder this day with no family to absorb the tribute. I startled on the second volley of shots, which I never do. It interrupted my silent prayer for this man. The Honor Guard folded the flag and presented it to his caretaker who in turn donated it to the local VFW. The mayor’s eulogy lasted a few moments. He used the word “kind” several times to describe this man. Imagine, a tortured soul who had time to be kind. Quite a tribute.
And then, it was over.
Less than ten minutes.
I stood there, not wanting to leave just yet. I felt like we owed him more time. We all must have felt that way as we retreated slowly to our vehicles. It was done. Elmer Joseph Heck would be placed in a vault with his brothers in arms—his American family.
We gathered again at the entrance to the Barracks. Another patriot was on his way for an 11:30 burial, and we planned to participate in this, too. As we stood there, I said to my friend, Dan, “How do we explain this to people … what we do?” He replied with one word, “Respect.” His wife Sandy said, “As I stood there praying for him, which I often do, I found myself saying, ‘You are homeless no more, Mr. Heck.'”
You are finally home. RIP, American Patriot.
Tom Reilly is the author of Hope In The Shadows Of War.
