The funeral of Ray Plewacki Sr. at Arlington National Cemetery was one of the most compelling testaments to the human spirit that I’ve ever witnessed. The chapter title, “92 and Growing” in my new book, Wide and Deep: Tales and Recollections of a Master Maine Guide refers to Ray Plewacki Sr. We had been friends for 14 years. Ray lived large, all of his nearly 94 years, but long before my time, he had done amazing things over the Pacific as a Navy aviator in World War II. Ray flew with famed Black Sheep Squadron pilot, Pappy Boyington (even though Pappy was in the Marine Corp and Ray was in the Navy) on the same mission when they were both shot down during a raid. As you will read, things went remarkably well for Ray, and remarkably badly for Pappy.
Every detail of a full military honors funeral at Arlington is considered and choreographed to the fullest affect. The best word I can find to describe it is “overwhelming.” Close to 100 men and women are involved. A caisson with full Navy escort and the proverbial riderless horse led the way to the burial site about a quarter mile through the labyrinth of Arlington memorials. A Navy band played flawless accompaniment. After the flag was ceremoniously folded over the remains, a lone bugler standing a football field’s distance away began “taps” right on cue. The “Lady of Arlington” presided throughout, there to represent the President, the Navy, and the nation.
Ray never talked of his missions, his medals, or his sacrifices. That was all done for him at Arlington National Cemetery this past weekend. Among those of us participating, there were no dry eyes.
