A helmet sits on a rifle stuck in the hillside. A cool breeze this morning isn't enough to shake it from its perch. Nor are the old soldiers bothered by the chill. They accompany the casket from the hearse to the burial site. They stand at attention.
Gunshots startle the quiet.
Words are said quietly. The flag on the casket is folded. Precisely, over and over. At the end just the stars show. And he hands the flag, like it is a delicate piece of the freedom it symbolizes, to one who remains.