Sometime back I received in the name of our country the bodies of four Marines, who had died while on active duty. I said then, that there is a special sadness that accompanies the death of serviceman. For were never, quite good enough to it. Not really, we can’t be, because what they gave us is beyond our powers to repay. So when a serviceman dies, it’s a tear in the fabric, a break in the whole and all we can do is remember. It is in a way, an odd thing to honor those who died in defense of our country. In defense of us. In wars far away. The imagination plays a trick. We see these soldiers in our mind as old and wise. We see them as something like the founding fathers grave and gray-haired. But most of them were boys when they died and they gave up two lives. The one they were living, and, the one they would have lived. When they died they gave up their chance to be husbands and fathers and grandfathers. They gave up their chance to be revered old men. They gave up everything for our country, for us. All we can do is remember. There’s always someone who is remembering for us. No matter what time of year it is or what time of day. There are always people who come to this cemetery leave a flag, or a flower, or a little rock on the headstone. They stop, bow their heads and communicate what they wish. They say hello Johnny! Hello Bob! We still think of you. You’re still with us. We never got over you. And, we pray for you still and we’ll see you again We all meet again!