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Dedication, to the very end

Making sure their brothers in arms get a proper final sendoff is of primary importance to the VFW Honor Guard. But as time marches, their numbers, too, are dwindling.

By MARY SPICUZZA
Published May 29, 2005

	[Times photos: Kathleen Flynn]
	Harry Gowans and Drobina pull the casket during the funeral for World War II veteran Robert Titmus. Gowans is a veteran of the Korean War and Drobina of WWII.
	Chaplain George Drobina of Spring Hill VFW Post 10209 Honor Guard comforts Faythe Chuman during the funeral for her husband, Carl Chuman, at the Florida National Cemetery.

SPRING HILL - Capt. Raymond Malec spotted the family members first as they arrived at the cemetery's outdoor pavilion.

"They're here," he said. "Suck in your tummies."

Six men from the Veterans of Foreign Wars Honor Guard of Post 10209 Spring Hill quickly straightened their line near the casket of Robert Titmus, 81, an Army veteran of World War II.

White gloves on, they held their left hands behind their backs. They balanced their rifles on the ground with the right.

"Honor Guard, attention!" Malec said as the family approached. "Present arms!"

In unison, the men stiffened their backs and raised their rifles perpendicular to the ground in both hands.

It is a ritual that comes with increasing frequency these days for the Honor Guard from Post 10209, the third-largest VFW post in the state. Nationally, World War II veterans are dying at a rate of more than 1,000 a day. For these men, most of whom are veterans of World War II and the Korean War, that sometimes means attending as many as three funerals in a day.

And even as more people call on the volunteers to help send veterans to their rest, the group's own ranks are thinning.

The Honor Guard of 10209 used to have about 20 members. It's now down to 12.

This month, they had to say goodbye one of their own. Carl Chuman, 78, an Army veteran who served in World War II and Korea, died. He had been a dedicated volunteer for years.

"The hardest part is when we do a funeral for one of our Honor Guard," said Harry Gowans, a Korean War veteran. "It sort of hits home."

On that day, they honored Chuman as a quiet but dedicated worker, a sweet man and a committed volunteer in the biannual poppy sales.

"The Honor Guard people are very dedicated," post commander Ed Noll said. "They go out when it's pouring rain. They feel it's coming to a veteran, and he earned it."

Dedicated may be an understatement.

This all-volunteer group attends a funeral at the request of a veteran or a veteran's family. They pay for their own uniforms - the white shirts, black slacks, black patent leather shoes, and the yellow-rimmed brown hats.

The men, mostly retirees in their 70s and 80s, attend countless funerals and burials in all kinds of weather. Monday they will be out again, for a Memorial Day ceremony at Florida Hills Cemetery in Hernando County.

"We have older guys out there in the sun," said Chaplain George Drobina, 78. "We've had a couple pass out."

Many attend services despite health problems, much to the dismay of their wives and doctors.

The men say it keeps them busy.

"If you sit back, you don't live long," member Paul Markar said.

But the Honor Guard is clearly more than a hobby to these men. It's about celebrating the life of a comrade and remembering each veteran's service to the country.

"It's about paying tribute to those that served," Malec said. "To see that they get a decent burial."

Markar, who always brings candy in the Honor Guard van in case children attend the funeral, said the services are also about giving a veteran's family the ritual of a final farewell.

Two of Markar's relatives are buried at the Florida National Cemetery in Bushnell - his Uncle Paul and his father.

He said being in the Honor Guard gives him the chance to pay tribute to them, too.

"Every time I'm up there, I take my cell phone with me," Markar said. "I call my mom and I put the phone on the grave so she can talk to my dad."

Each time the Honor Guard goes to a cemetery or funeral, the trip is a ritual unto itself.

Some of the men car pool. They file into the VFW Post on Spring Hill Drive and head for its bingo hall, where they gather their rifles and ammunition.

Eventually, they all climb into the white Honor Guard van.

On a trip to Bushnell last week, the men started cracking jokes almost immediately.

"He's our chaplain, and he knows more dirty jokes than anyone," Lauren "Itch" Edwardson said of Drobina.

Jokes about the driver are also a favorite.

"Get 'em, Harry!" Edwardson yelled as the driver, Harold Dowlin, sped toward the back of a truck, swerving away just in time.

"When we get back to the post, we all have a drink because we're all so happy we made it alive," Paul Howard said, sitting on the edge of his seat in the back of the van.

"We go up joking," Drobina later explained. "But it's to relieve the tension. It could get depressing if we don't have an outlet."

After Dowlin steered the van into the cemetery, though, the tone changed immediately.

"We shut off, and we're totally business," Drobina said.

Their white gloves went on. The rifles came out.

The men slowly shuffled toward the service.

Chaplain Drobina has done his blessing so many times now he has it memorized, but he keeps the prayer booklet in his back pocket just in case.

Harry Gowans followed, speaking of "respect for our fallen comrade," Robert Titmus, who "left his home to defend his country."

Next in the Honor Guard ritual came the final salute, also known as the 21-gun salute even though Post 10209 never uses 21 guns.

Each of the six men fired three rounds.

As the gun smoke cleared, taps started playing.

Like most modern Honor Guards, the men of 10209 no longer have a member who can play taps on the bugle.

"We had a bugler," Noll said. "But now we do it the new way. CDs!"

The Spring Hill post is considering investing in an automatic bugle as other posts have.

"We heard this one woman bugler and we thought, "Man, she's doing a beautiful job,' " Drobina said. "But then we realized she'd just pushed a button."

These days, VFW posts across the country are facing more than a shortage of buglers.

As World War II veterans die, the Honor Guard is in decline.

"It's harder and harder to find guys to join," Drobina said. "They have to spend time with family. Every meeting we try to get people to volunteer."

They said that members' deaths are making it difficult for the Honor Guard to continue.

"We've been so short-handed," Drobina said. "We can't get the guys out all the time."

The loss of longtime member Chuman has hit the group especially hard.

But for the 40,000 or so veterans who live in Hernando County, the group does as much as it can.

As taps ended at the recent service, three Honor Guard members lifted the American flag from the casket and began to fold it.

Each of the 12 folds in the flag represents a principle, including life, belief in the eternal life and honor and remembrance of the veteran.

They then placed three shell casings into the flag and presented it to the family.

"Lock 'em and clean up, people," Malec said.

The men searched the ground for the other shell casings.

"They don't like the lawn mowers to hit these," Markar said quietly.

As they climbed back into the van and pulled out past rows of tombstones, the mood was more somber.

After another close call with a truck, the van pulled into the VFW post's parking lot. The men put away their guns and filed into the canteen for a hot dog lunch.

"This is our pay," Drobina said, holding a hot dog in one hand and a glass of O'Douls nonalcoholic Amber Ale in the other.

Noll and the Honor Guard members rubbed the day's service from the dry erase board.

Then they started planning for the three scheduled later in the week.

Times photographer Kathleen Flynn contributed to this report. Mary Spicuzza can be reached at mspicuzza@sptimes.com or 352 848-1432.

[Last modified May 29, 2005, 01:17:09]