Ever look on Heaven's scenes...

Another Marine reported for duty recently.  

This Marine wasn't one that I didn't know before, rather, my great uncle Bill (William N. Hoag) who I fondly remember from my childhood.

His memorial service was Saturday (8 May) and there was never any question about me making the trek north to make sure I was able to pay my last respects and tell him that his duty was done here, the rest of us would take the watch.  I got in around 0130 on Saturday morning, got a few hours sleep before starting the day.  

 The day was wet and dreary.  It was fitting for the mood of most in the funeral home.  The service was short and later we all crossed the street to gather at the church.  This is where the true service began, because the rain stopped, the sun peaked out, laughter filled the air and everyone ate too much.  It was just as Uncle Bill would have wanted.

Someone, I couldn't remember her name, asked me "What did you whisper to him at the funeral home?"  I didn't realize that I'd been spotted kneeling at the casket.  I smiled and said, "Only something a Marine would understand."  

Uncle Bill enlisted in the Corps on 16 September 1958 and was assigned to Platoon 199, 1st Recruit Training Battalion at Marine Corps Recruit Depot Parris Island. 

Because of the timing of his service, my super secret (not so secret) method of following his service through the muster rolls simply cannot be done.  However, I can tell you that he served at Cherry Point and Quantico, and spent nearly every free moment on the road home to NY where he was head over heels for a gal that happened to be my grandfather's youngest sister, and his future wife.  

Uncle Bill's life wasn't all about the Corps.  Like so many before him, and so many after him, he did his four years and  was discharged.  He returned home to Upstate New York, where he raised his family.  He drove truck, farmed, was a mechanic and a good father.  His youngest son was my age, so we often spent summers at Uncle Bill's and Aunt Bobbie's.  I remember him as a man with a warm heart, an easy smile and a laugh just waiting to bust forth.  

Unlike many of the Marines I've known or studied over the years, Uncle Bill didn't come home with a chest full of medals, didn't earn distinction in combat, nor did he remind you every waking moment that he was a Marine.  He simply did his duty, returned to home and made a good life for his family.  In my book, that's just as noble as all the ribbons and medals put together.  

I was one of the last to leave the church Saturday; knowing I had to be on the road back home the next morning, there was little time to do anything except get some rest.  But on the way home, the sun was nearly down, but it was a beautiful sky.  I stopped on on a back road that offered an outstanding view across the open fields and valley, and snapped a few images with my phone.  Maybe Uncle Bill painted this particular sunset for his family as a thank you for their love and tributes that day.  

"If the Army and the Navy
Ever look on Heaven's scenes,
They will find the streets are guarded
By United States Marines."

Rest in peace, Uncle Bill.