Fair Winds and Following Seas

Sunday, September 2, 2018

It was a hot day, with a light breeze which gently moved the half-mast flag as we drove onto the yard. Mom, Dad and I parked at the Club, where dad and the other Honorary Pallbearers were designated to meet. We saw many old friends from the class of ’58, and from McCain’s 2000 Campaign. Many wore pins from the Campaign. Hugs and conversations passed back and forth until it was time to walk to the chapel. I noticed a friendly looking guy wearing a brown felt hat and using a cane enter, but didn’t know him. Later I found out it was Ron Perlman. We had to leave before Dad, so that the Honorary Pallbearers could have a briefing about their duties. Before we left I ran to the car and grabbed dad’s cane. He scowled when I handed it to him. A group of us, comprised of friends and classmates and extended family, entered the chapel. Mom and I took our places in the 12^th pew, just a few rows behind Joe Lieberman, Joe Biden, Lindsey Graham, John Warner, the Sec Nav, and the empty rows for the Honorary Pallbearers. On the opposite aisle, where the Senator’s family were to be seated with other close friends, sat Alice Widemann, my godmother, with Sally, the wife of Admiral Chuck Larson, who John would be buried next to. We were seated a good 20 minutes before the service was scheduled to begin. I turned to the person next to me and said, “Hi, I’m Judy Gamboa, Frank Gamboa’s daughter” and extended my hand. He said, “Hi, I’m Lorne Michaels”. It took a moment to hit me as I smiled politely. Then I looked at him closely, recognized him. I said, “wait, Lorne Michaels? As in, SNL?” He smiled and said, “yes.” I quickly pulled up a cute picture of dad and John to show him, the one with McCain in the ’58 Corvette and Dad holding a thermos. He loved it and talked about John probably getting the car as a graduation present. I told him I’d try to find another picture. We chatted a bit about he and dad being roommates. I did not embarrass myself, I think.

The service began with the honor guard bringing in the casket, followed by the pallbearers, then the family. Mark Salter did a reading, then Senator Graham spoke, and his words did not sit well with me. He brought up 9/11 and winning wars, only one facet of this great man. General Petraeus spoke more deeply of the conviction and patriotism that is imbued in a man of military service, and his reflection was sincere, and delivered respectfully. He added a bit of humor about being from West Point. The most touching eulogy of the day was delivered by John’s son Jack. He was in full dress uniform, accompanied by his wife also in full dress uniform, and their very young son Mac (JSM 5). He spoke about his father’s strength of spirit, humor, and profound love for his country. There was laughter and joy as well as tears. It was more in keeping with how I remember John - funny, fierce, and strong. The Navy Glee Club sang “Amazing Grace”, “Faith of our Fathers” and the last hymn was the Navy Hymn, “Eternal Father.” During that final hymn was when I felt most emotional.

Eternal Father, strong to save,
Whose arm hath bound the restless wave,
Who bidd'st the mighty ocean deep
Its own appointed limits keep;
Oh, hear us when we cry to Thee,
For those in peril on the sea! 

The casket was turned, and it was time for him to be laid at rest. We exited the side doors, so that the procession could exit the main chapel portico. We went to the front and as we watched, the casket was carried by the honor guard down the steps to the waiting caisson. One mounted black horse led, and the six horse carriage carrying the casket had three caparisoned horses. The honor guard played and marched ahead of the horses. McCain would have laughed at the horse who broke the solemnity of the occasion by depositing a large pile of manure before pulling him away to his final resting place. Those following had to widen their paths to avoid it. It was over ¾ of a mile on foot in the humid, hot, peak of the day. McCain’s family followed the honorary pallbearers. Just before leaving, tiny Mac’s nanny gathered him into her arms. Meghan’s shoulders visibly carried the weight of her grief, but she was stoic in her four inch black heels. Cindy was pristine with a round hat perched at an angle on her fair blonde hair, neatly coiffed. John’s sons exuded strength and immense pride. My father, the second pallbearer on the left side, stood tall, behind his friend, wearing his class of ’58 tie, and holding his cane. Mom and I were worried about dad’s ability to walk in the heat, but he persevered. He later said he was thinking of his buddy with every step.

Mom, Alice, Sally and I boarded a bus, and as we rode slowly in the line, following the procession, the streets of the yard were lined with the entire brigade of midshipmen, who saluted as the procession passed. It was hot, but they formed a perfectly uniform line, evenly spaced, their bodies braced and hands forming fists at their sides. They saluted as the caisson rode by. I looked at their faces. Each one showed no emotion, simply facing front, eyes forward. One poor mid went down at the exact moment we passed - and he held his position - so he went down like a plank. Thankfully his shipmate quickly grabbed his arm as he fell, or he would have face-planted on the pavement.

Once we were down by the grave site, there was a tent for us to stand under. Out across the water there was gathered a crowd of private boats that had come to pay their respects, and they got as close as they were allowed. There must have been 30 or 40. The interment service was brief, and the flyover happened just at the beginning. It was incredibly moving to see the “missing man” formation.  There was a 19-gun salute, and a round of three volleys. Taps was played, as the flag over the coffin was ceremoniously folded and given to Cindy. I don't know if it was an osprey or an eagle, but a large majestic black and white bird flew over.

So we said farewell to a hero. And my father said goodbye to his roommate and dear friend. He said, “I will remember him at the setting of the sun, and at the beginning of the day”