The small boat rocked and rolled like a bath toy, slowly plowing through the water; the fog lay thick across the waves, making visibility beyond twenty yards nearly impossible. The coxswain navigated up and down the swells, glancing from the bow of the boat to the radar screen before him, every few seconds sounding his fog horn to any other vessels that may be in the area. As I sat in my chair behind the crew, clutching boxes on the table before me to keep them from sliding off onto the deck, I silently prayed that my queasiness would subside enough to allow me to accomplish the task before us. All the while peering out upon a horizon of greenish-blue water, grey clouds, and white, misty fog. A deep feeling of isolation fell over me, and I once again adjusted my arms over the sliding packages.
From time to time, I am called upon when I journey down to the Coast Guard Station to help the crew with burials at sea. I’m sure that for many of you, the idea of a burial at sea conjures images of old World War II footage of flag-draped remains being slid into the sea from the deck of a great warship. In your mind, there is much pomp and circumstance about the proceedings, with smartly dressed servicemembers snapping to attention with uniformed salutes. And while there are indeed moments of such formality among the burials at sea that I have performed, they are the exception as opposed to the norm. Let me tell you how it normally proceeds.
First of all, burials at sea almost always require the honored member to be cremated. The burial of actual bodies at sea is reserved for moments of wartime and while ships are in active combat zones. In the case of our stateside services, the law requires that the person be cremated and that they be laid to rest at least three miles offshore. And while this is at times performed by one of the Coast Guard Cutters, with family members and guests in attendance and the ship’s company at the rail, the most often performed ceremony is much more humble. Many times, the service members’ remains are simply left to the Coast Guard Station to take out on a patrol and committed to the sea without any family or friends in attendance. The reason for their absence is not always known, and every effort is made to include them, but often it is simply the patrol crew performing the task. A box arrives from a funeral home, bearing the name of the departed, and inside is a small bag of the cremated ashes of the honored person. Little is known about their background, unless the family has provided it. All we know is a name and their request to be buried at sea. A member of the Station’s crew will make the arrangements, sometimes coordinating with me a date to perform the ceremony, and then the journey begins. This is what I encountered on my trip down to Galveston this past Friday.
