When Brent left for New Mexico Ann was certain that she did not want a service at all. Jack wanted to be cremated so she would do that, but then no service. Maybe we would scatter some ashes on the mountain. Maybe just raise a glass in his honour. But no service. Neither Jack nor Ann are religious people. Jack, much like me, was raised in a religious house but did not continue as an adult. Ann is as committed to being nonreligious as my parents are committed to their religion. So there would be no church funeral.
When Jack's chain of command found out that Ann didn't want a service they asked her to reconsider. That it would mean a lot to them to be able to honour Jack. And they asked to be able to handle the details. So it came to pass that by the time Christopher and I made it to Albuquerque it was decided that Jack would have not only a service but a full blown military funeral.
We had a small gathering at Ann's condo before the service with just friends of the family and us. We toasted Jack and called him a son of a bitch and did the things he would have wanted done. Steph Jr. did the catering. She did the catering when Jack and Ann remarried. She did the catering when Ann graduated with her counseling degree. If Christopher has his way she will do the catering when he graduates as well. She is also the daughter of one of Ann's very best friends. So it was family, friends, food and alcohol. A lot of people trying very hard to find the right words to say when there are none. And knowing that soon we would all have to leave to say goodbye one last time.
When that time came Brent, Christopher, Ann and I arrived at the facility and were escorted down front and center of the seating area. Fall in Albuquerque is still very warm and very sunny. The service was held at the New Mexico Veterans Memorial. It's a beautiful setting. ( http://www.nmvetsmemorial.org ) There is an outdoor amphitheater that faces the Sandia's. It's a stunning view. The facility is new since we lived there and I could not get over how well done it was. Amazing the things you can focus on when your mind is racing a million miles a minute.
In front of us were Jack's boots, his helmet, his dog tags and his picture. To the left of us was a giant photo collage from his time in Afghanistan. Jack didn't like getting his picture taken and they had a devil of a time finding shots he was actually in front of the camera instead of behind it, but they found them. As we were sitting waiting for everything to begin people Jack was stationed with kept coming to us to show us pictures they had of him. And of the things he had done in Afghanistan. The things he had built. The people he had trained. The thing that was the most amazing to me was how well all of these people knew us.
Jack's military life was somewhat of a separate thing. He had just gotten to the point where he could talk about Vietnam. Most of what he worked on was classified and he couldn't talk about specifics. His time in Afghanistan was so recent that we hadn't really heard much about it, except from his emails. He was writing a book while he was over there and I was looking forward to reading it to find out what it had been like for him. But what I found out that day was though he kept his military life apart from us, he never kept us apart from his military life.
As people would come to talk to us, they would ask if Christopher was the boy genius they had heard so much about. The boy genius is how we refer to him when we are joking around. Because it's true, so that makes it funny. The would say how proud Jack was of Brent. About his MBA, about his work. They even knew I was in school at the time and how glad Jack was that I was leaving my old place of work.
As it got closer to time for the service my family arrived. It is only the third time in the history of my marriage to Brent that both sides were together at one time. Our wedding, Christopher's baby shower and Jack's funeral. Significant events all. I was glad they were there. When I turned to great them I was struck by how many people were coming. My mother let me know there were many more in the parking lot and still coming in off the street. By the time the service started most of the amphitheater was full. When I was first thinking to write this I would have put the number at 200 people, but when I went to the website to find the link to the memorial, I saw that they hold 400. I am again very moved by the number of people that came. It amazes me. It touches me. It makes me very proud.
Jack was a working class grunt. In the civilian world he was a lawyer and could have pushed the point and gone JAG when he went back in to the service. But he stayed enlisted. And he was proud of that. So everyone at the funeral was in their desert camos, not their dress uniforms. Looking out over the crowd that was gathered there was a sea of beige looking back. The chaplain let us know before the funeral that so many of his colleagues has volunteered to be in the honour guard that they had to draw names. The honour guard stands duty over the remains through the entire service. Early September in Albuquerque can easily reach 90. And they volunteered to stand, in uniform, during the entire service.
Then the rumble of motorcycles could be heard. The Patriot Guard had arrived. They were escorting Jack's ashes from the funeral home to the memorial. The Patriot Guard, for those of you that don't know are a group of mostly Vietnam Vets who formed in reaction to a vile nasty little bit of business in Kansas City that dares to call themselves a church. If you ever doubt that there is evil in the world and that some choose to practice it, you should pay attention to this group. They protest military funerals. In vile ways. The Patriot Guard makes sure the family is not affected by them. Jack's funeral was a big enough deal that they were worried the protesters would show up.
During the service itself I can't tell you all of what was said, but some of it resonated. A lot of different people came and spoke. They talked about his dedication. They talked about how good wasn't good enough. That the people he was training soon learned that even if they thought they had done well, Jack knew they could do better. I reached over and held Brent's hand as they were describing his relationship with his father and didn't even know it. They talked about his walk and how the Afghan soldiers would imitate it. This made me smile. My father-in-law had a very distinctive walk. Almost a waddle/lope combination. Christopher walks like this as well. The funniest part of that for me is that Brent had never noticed. It was just part of who his dad was. They talked about his wit, dry as the desert they were serving in. They talked about his love for his family back home. People he worked with in the District Attorney's office spoke. They talked about his sense of justice. They talked about his intelligence. They all said how they had felt working with him or serving with him had been an honour,a privilege and that they were better at what they did by being around him.
At one point in time the photo collage blew over. The person speaking made a joke that it must have been Jack sick of seeing those photos. They never could get it to stay on the stand after that, I guess he was right. The end of the service eventually came. The honour guard folded the flag and presented it to Ann. It's a ceremony into itself and very moving. Taps was played. The volley of three was shot. Gun fire in the silence will make you flinch every time. Even when you know it's coming. I am not sure if birds were released or just scared out of the eves by the gunshots, but there were birds.
Then the final roll call. Names of active duty service men and women were called. I am not sure but they might have picked one from each of his commands and then each service that was represented at the funeral. The name was called and they responded. Ayuh. Here. Present. Then... First Sergeant Jack Mastenbrook........First Sergeant Jack Mastenbrook......First Sergeant Jack Mastenbrook. They called his name three times. Silence covering the area. If you could see a heart break, you would have seen four all shatter in that silence. After the last period of silence...First Sergeant Jack Mastenbrook, mission accomplished, job well done, stand down, rest in peace.
After the service we shook hands with almost everyone there it seemed. And discovered another tradition. Command coins. Military men and women have command coins. They represent their rank, the operation they were serving in, any number of things. In Afghanistan they carried their coin with them everywhere they went. If you were caught without it and challenged you could be made to do the person's laundry, or sit ups or whatever task they felt they could get you to do. I am not sure if this is standard, it probably is, Brent's time in the Navy was with the Nuclear field and they had their own traditions and customs.
So after the funeral as people would shake Brent's hand, or Ann's or Christopher's they would press into their palm a coin. We ended up with stacks and stacks of these coins. The chaplain said it was another way of showing respect. They were giving us a part of them to show how much Jack had been a part of them. It was very touching.
When we left the Patriot Guard was to escort us back to the house. Brent out drove them. They didn't notice us walking out at first and could never catch up. Jack had been a gear head in High School and still loved old cars and fast cars. We thought nothing could be a better tribute to him than his son out driving a group of bikers leaving his service.
Mission accomplished, job well done, stand down now, rest in peace.
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