thedrifter
05-24-06, 06:57 AM
At Arlington Cemetery Burial, 'Today We Add One More Hero'
By Stephanie McCrummen
Washington Post Staff Writer
Tuesday, May 23, 2006; B03
Once again, a line of shiny sedans and limousines pulled up to Section 60 of Arlington National Cemetery, where five long rows of fresh white tombstones have marched across the green grass since the beginning of the Iraq war more than three years ago.
Yesterday, the procession, the 235th at Arlington, bore the cremated remains of a 21-year-old from Seaford, Del., Marine Cpl. Cory L. Palmer, who was wounded when his Humvee was hit by an explosive near Fallujah on May 1, according to his local newspaper, the (Wilmington) News Journal.
He died of his injuries May 6 on the way to a hospital in San Antonio, where his parents, Charles and Danna Palmer, were waiting to greet him, the paper said.
Their son is one of 2,457 U.S. military personnel to die in Iraq, according to the Defense Department.
He was assigned to the 2nd Reconnaissance Battalion, 2nd Marine Division, 2nd Marine Expeditionary Force, based at Camp Lejeune, N.C.
On Sunday, Palmer's memorial service in Seaford was chosen apparently at random for a protest by members of a Baptist church from Topeka, Kan., who believe that soldiers are dying in Iraq because of the United States' embrace of homosexuality, but they were drowned out by a larger counter-protest of people shouting "USA! USA!," honking from passing motorists and more than 1,000 locals who came to support Palmer's family.
Yesterday's ceremony at Arlington was nothing but calm.
Palmer's military service qualified him for standard honors, which included a coffin team, a firing party and a bugler to play taps.
And so, just after 1 p.m. on a blustery, cool day, the gentle and quiet rituals began for the young man who played varsity soccer his senior year in high school, who was a "fun, loving guy" on his second tour in Iraq.
A white-hatted, white-gloved Marine saluted the box carrying Palmer's remains as it was lifted out of a car. Three Marines carried the box to the waiting grave, then unfolded an American flag above it. Palmer's mother, father, other relatives and friends -- more than 100 in all -- followed across the grass.
It was difficult to hear what was said at Palmer's graveside, but the words included "victory" and "hero." A Navy chaplain referenced the Vietnam and World War II memorials nearby and said of Marines such as Palmer, "It will be years before we realize the significance of their sacrifice.
"Today we add one more hero who died so we can live free," he said. "A man of honor, a man of courage, a man of commitment."
The crowd prayed then, and a line of Marines tilted their rifles and fired three shots into the sky in salute. A bugler played taps, and off to the side, a few people there to visit other graves stood at attention and watched.
The honor guard folded the flag again and gave it to Master Sgt. Barry Baker, who dropped to his knee and presented it to one of Palmer's two brothers. He took off a white glove to shake hands with Palmer's mother, father and several others seated on the front row, and then, it was over.
Ellie
By Stephanie McCrummen
Washington Post Staff Writer
Tuesday, May 23, 2006; B03
Once again, a line of shiny sedans and limousines pulled up to Section 60 of Arlington National Cemetery, where five long rows of fresh white tombstones have marched across the green grass since the beginning of the Iraq war more than three years ago.
Yesterday, the procession, the 235th at Arlington, bore the cremated remains of a 21-year-old from Seaford, Del., Marine Cpl. Cory L. Palmer, who was wounded when his Humvee was hit by an explosive near Fallujah on May 1, according to his local newspaper, the (Wilmington) News Journal.
He died of his injuries May 6 on the way to a hospital in San Antonio, where his parents, Charles and Danna Palmer, were waiting to greet him, the paper said.
Their son is one of 2,457 U.S. military personnel to die in Iraq, according to the Defense Department.
He was assigned to the 2nd Reconnaissance Battalion, 2nd Marine Division, 2nd Marine Expeditionary Force, based at Camp Lejeune, N.C.
On Sunday, Palmer's memorial service in Seaford was chosen apparently at random for a protest by members of a Baptist church from Topeka, Kan., who believe that soldiers are dying in Iraq because of the United States' embrace of homosexuality, but they were drowned out by a larger counter-protest of people shouting "USA! USA!," honking from passing motorists and more than 1,000 locals who came to support Palmer's family.
Yesterday's ceremony at Arlington was nothing but calm.
Palmer's military service qualified him for standard honors, which included a coffin team, a firing party and a bugler to play taps.
And so, just after 1 p.m. on a blustery, cool day, the gentle and quiet rituals began for the young man who played varsity soccer his senior year in high school, who was a "fun, loving guy" on his second tour in Iraq.
A white-hatted, white-gloved Marine saluted the box carrying Palmer's remains as it was lifted out of a car. Three Marines carried the box to the waiting grave, then unfolded an American flag above it. Palmer's mother, father, other relatives and friends -- more than 100 in all -- followed across the grass.
It was difficult to hear what was said at Palmer's graveside, but the words included "victory" and "hero." A Navy chaplain referenced the Vietnam and World War II memorials nearby and said of Marines such as Palmer, "It will be years before we realize the significance of their sacrifice.
"Today we add one more hero who died so we can live free," he said. "A man of honor, a man of courage, a man of commitment."
The crowd prayed then, and a line of Marines tilted their rifles and fired three shots into the sky in salute. A bugler played taps, and off to the side, a few people there to visit other graves stood at attention and watched.
The honor guard folded the flag again and gave it to Master Sgt. Barry Baker, who dropped to his knee and presented it to one of Palmer's two brothers. He took off a white glove to shake hands with Palmer's mother, father and several others seated on the front row, and then, it was over.
Ellie