A friend of mine here in Dallas sent me

the following account, from a woman at his church, of her nephew’s military

funeral in his small Texas town. He died serving America in Iraq. My friend

sent photographs showing what the woman describes below. I wish I could post

them. To see the somber faces of schoolchildren standing on the side of the

road, watching the hearse go by, holding Old Glory in one hand and having

the other hand on their hearts, is moving beyond words.

Here’s an excerpt from the soldier’s aunt. I apologize for the length, but

you need to read this:

<<However, the most incredible thing was what happened following the
service on the way to the cemetery. We went to our cars and drove to the
cemetery escorted by at least 10 police cars with lights flashing and some
other emergency vehicles, with Texas Rangers handling traffic. Everyone on
the road who was not in the procession, pulled over, got out of their cars,
and stood silently and respectfully, some put their hands over their hearts,
some had small flags. Shopkeepers came outside with their customers and did
the same thing. Construction workers stopped their work, got off their
equipment and put their hands over their hearts, too. There was no noise
whatsoever except a few birds and the quiet hum of cars going slowly up the
road.
When we turned off the highway suddenly there were teenage boys
along both sides of the street about every 20 feet or so, all holding large
American flags on long flag poles, and again with their hands on their
hearts. We thought at first it was the Boy Scouts or 4H Club or something,
but it continued — for two and a half miles. Hundreds of young people,
standing silently on the side of the road with flags. At one point we passed
an elementary school, and all the children were outside, shoulder to
shoulder holding flags — kindergartners, handicapped, teachers, staff,
everyone. Some held signs of love and support. Then came teenage girls and
younger boys, all holding flags. Then adults. Then families. All standing
silently on the side of the road. No one spoke, not even the very young
children. The last few turns found people crowded together holding flags or
with their hands on their hearts. Some were on horseback.
The military presence — at least two generals, a fist full of
colonels, and representatives from every branch of the service, plus the
color guard which attended James, and some who served with him — was very
impressive and respectful, but the love and pride from this community who
had lost one of their own was the most amazing thing I’ve ever been
privileged to witness.>>