By Morris Rote-Rosen
Private First Class Albert Libert, the first of Granville's war dead for overseas, came home ... Former comrades-in-arms turn out to pay their respects to one of their buddies ... With a few remnant of the thinning ranks of World War I veterans among them ... The thermometer registers 23 degrees below zero ... And the veterans gather in the post room for final instructions ... In the room which was once the gathering place of the veterans of the Civil War and of World War I ... Rifles are issued and flags are unfurled ... The order to "fall in" in heard and the group marches out.
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"Right shoulder, arm! Forward march!" And the veterans proceed to 46 Church street ... They stop and line up in formation at the entrance, ready to accompany a Gold Star to his final resting place ... "Present arms!" and the uniformed veterans, soldiers, sailors, marines, snap to "Attention" in salute ... The front door opens slowly and the stripes of the flag draped casket slowly comes to view ... As the bright winter sun, peering out from under light-gray scattered clouds, sheds its rays directly down to bring the large flag in full view.
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Eight veterans, gently, with slow and deliberate steps, carry the casket to the waiting hearse ... Heads are bared and flags are dipped to hang motionless in the still cold winter air ... The rear door of the hearse is opened and the rollers break the deathly silence as the casked slides down into place ... And the door is closed ... Led by the veterans' organization color bears one each side of the hearse, followed by members of the American-Italian society, the command "Forward March" is given ... The starters on automobiles grind out a moaning sound ... And the cortege moves toward St. Mary's church.
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The marching feet of the veterans crunch in unison on the snow packed street ... The chains on the tires of the hearse beat a tattoo, like a muffled drum, as they break through the icy surface on Potter avenue ... The veterans marching in a snappy military step, come to a sudden halt ... As the bellow of St. Mary's announce the approach of the procession ... Two files are formed at the entrance of the church and again the flag draped casket is saluted ... Henry Brannick, whose brother "Bill" was the first Granville Gold Star in World War I, swings open the doors of the church.
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The warm air from inside the church is a welcome relief to frozen hands and ears ... And the waiting pews are filled in a few moments ... As the soft strains of the church organ and the flickering candles in the in the sanctuary greet a soldier who was come home to seek eternal rest ... Gold Star mothers attending the service are soon bringing up handkerchiefs to their face ... Another sits with head bowed reciting the rosary ... Soft, melancholy footsteps follow the casket as it comes to rest in the lower center aisle ... As the sunlight through the stained colored church windows glows on the starts and stopes embracing one who served her faithfully.
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Father John J. Dignan is celebrant of the high mass. Father John J. O'Brien is deacon and Father Krzysko is sub-deacon ... The service concluded and Father O'Brien intones: "may he rest in peace" ... The veterans are given the signal to file out in formation of two ... And as the casket is slowly wheeled towards the church door, the organ strikes up again and from the church balcony comes the hymn: "Oh, What Could My Jesus Do More?" ... Friends along the sides turn to take a last glimpse at the casket containing the remains of one of Granville's boys, whom they knew in life, to bid him a last farewell.
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Bearers lift the casket and walk with it to the waiting, open hearse ... Noticed among them are those of three faiths: Roman Catholic, Protestant and Jewish ... United as one in war and sorrow ... A unity, our country needs in time of peace for which Albert Libert gave his last full measure of devotion ... The cortege led by the colors of the veterans organization and the tri-color of the Italian society marches towards Quaker street, turns up Main street ... The cold air makes them step lively at a fast pace ... Few people are on the sidewalks as the procession passes ... The cold weather drove most of them inside.
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Stores are closed for the occasion and some business places have their window shades down ... David W. Pritchard, in spite of his age and the extreme freezing weather raises his hat in salute ... A farmer on the street, lowers his head, places his right hand over his left shoulder ... An old lady in black, her lips moving, as if in prayer, eagerly scans the marchers, trying to take a peek at the casket ... A young lady, who had been walking fast, comes to an abrupt stop, not realizing at first, and then lowers her head ... Silence everywhere, until the village square is reached ... And a fire alarm startles the procession for a moment ... And then silence again.
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At the North street triangle the line halts for the marchers to get into their automobiles for the drive to the cemetery ... Which is blanketed with snow four feet deep ... Grave stones are entirely covered, some stone tops showing partly through ... The large canvas canopy and tent breaks the chill of the winter blast for those inside ... It's the Libert family pot ... At the entrance is a stone, inscribed: "Mother ... Rose Molito ... Died 1940" ... Spared the agony and the heart-aches to be present at the return of her boy ... Who was an only son ... Now reunited in spirit.
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Flower petals are strewn around the open grave - yellow, pink, red, purple, white ... On the snow bank outside the tent, in a row, are wreaths, bouquets and sprays, from friends who remembered ... The surrounding thin, white birches stand bare in the cold winter ... Symbolizing summer's life extinct in winter death, waiting for the spring resurrection ... The casket is placed over the opening and Albert Libert, the father, enters, his face tear-stained ... His four daughters stand beside him ... "Our Father, Who Art In Heaven" comes from a voice inside the tent ... And the large flag, covering the casket is lifted.
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Commander Gardner Norton of the Veterans of Foreign Wars stands at one end and Commander John Lawler of the American Legion at the other ... The flag is held over the casket and folded to the traditional triangular shape and handed to the father, the head of the family ... With trembling hands he receives the last symbol of his boy's service on earth ... "Farewell Comrades" are the parting words by the attending veterans ... A sharp command outside the tent brings the firing squad to "Attention" ... Rifle bolts click as three volleys are fired in honor of a comrade.
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The crack of the rifle fire echoes a shrill sound which gradually fades away in the distant woods ... The sun now is partly obscured by the gathering clouds and a chill breeze sweeps across the cemetery ... And all is silent again as the notes of "Taps" offer a soldier's final farewell ... A Gold Star Mother breaks into sobs and is comforted by friends standing nearby ... There is a pull at the heart-strings and the heart-beat sounds like a loud drum beat ... And all is still again ... Pfc. Albert Libert has come home.
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