Ramp Ceremony

Heartening and solemn same time to be with hundreds of Marines at the Ramp Ceremony at 10 p.m. to honor the one young man killed in a firefight yesterday, Lance Corporal Jackson. The silence of the ceremony, punctuated only by the Gunnery Sergeant shouting direction, rings inside self. Dark on the tarmac, a light on the top of a pole showed what looked like a thick fog but it was dust rolling through the warm, dry, night air. We formed two files and walked in snaking lines, in step, then divided into three rows on either side and about 100 yards long, behind and leading to the ramp into the C-130 aircraft. A single bright light bathed the waiting cargo space inside, empty except for the American flag hanging vertically, clearly, still. We, in our rows, waited. A booming voice pierced the night, “Ahhhhhtennn huh!” All, even the civilians without military experience, snapped to standing, feet just so, head held steady, eyes forward. Then the same sharp voice offered, “Paaahrade rest.” Feet separated. Hands met at the small of the back; we all bowed our heads with, "Let us pray." The chaplain prayed. The words, “ultimate sacrifice,” rang true. Silence. Then, “Ahhtennhuh,” again; the voice called, “Preeee  zent...arms.” As if some mystical slow rhythm managed our right arms, each Marine brought a heavy open-palmed, straight-fingered hand up to salute; the civilians covered heart. Through the middle of our rows, seven Marines, along with the chaplain, walked at a measured pace with the flag draped coffin. As they walked by, each of us turned a 45 degree angle to allow our eyes to follow, in salute, hand on heart. Moments of facing the flag draped coffin under the illuminated flag in cargo space went by. Their work transferred to the plane, the seven walked back out, down the ramp and through the middle. Meanwhile, the generals and senior civilians entered the cargo space with the chaplain for final honor and respect before the body’s last flight home. Then the voice called, “Cennnter... face.” We all turned to center. “Orrr derr...arms.” Slowly again, our right hands returned to our sides. Pause. A final shout, “Diss..missed.” Three steps back, turn around and it was done. This man’s life meant something to each of us in our gathering as we walked away silent into the night, considering, somber and resolute. Nobody talked until we were well away in our vehicles on the long slow dusty crawl back to our side of the base.