Every time I pray in gratitude for the men and women who serve in this nation’s armed forces, I always remember to include the many millions we never see or hear about. I am talking about those who never fire a weapon or drive a Humvee but who, in the great scheme of things, are just as important to our freedom as the troops who deploy to Iraq or planted our flag on Iwo Jima.

Anyone who ever once wore a uniform is sacred to me and some of our veterans still need help. Tonight’s big music concert at the First Tennessee Pavilion is because a very rich man in Pennsylvania, one who wants to remain anonymous, is underwriting a pet project to raise money for groups that help veterans.

Steve Thurman, a grand Nashville promoter who never has forgotten he grew up in Red Bank, made sure Chattanooga was on the list of cities that would benefit and, when you pay $30 to hear my buddies from Overland Express, the Edgar Winter Band, and the classic rock group Kansas tonight, all the profits will go to veterans no matter shape, size, rank or ribbons.

Pete Waddington, whose restaurants include North Shore Grill and Coltrane’s on Ninth, promises they’ll be enough food and the guys at KZ-106 even scrambled around to come up with a couple of RVs because there are no changing rooms available at the pavilion.

In other words, there are a whole lot of people getting in on the act who you’ll never see or know about – just like in the military – but who are real important to make the whole thing work. The music starts early, right at 7, because a noise ordinance requires the music to stop too early (11 p.m.), but I’m assured those who attend will still get quite an earful. This is for one heck of a cause because, believe me, we can never say “thank you” enough.

Some time ago I read about some of those nameless and faceless behind-the-scenes heroes when a Marine was killed in Iraq. He had a very unusual request – he wanted to be buried at sea. It has been years since any soldier was buried at sea, but he had left instructions that if anything were to happen, this was his wish.

In a wonderful story, the Marines got in touch with the Navy and suddenly the Marine officer had the best destroyer in Norfolk at his disposal. The Navy band heard about it and offered to bring their drums and trumpets and gorgeous uniforms aboard. So did a U.S. Navy choir. Soon it became a huge event because men and women – veterans one and all – volunteered to join in the tribute.

As is the way these things work, with hundreds of behind-the-scenes workers involved, it was wisely decided there should be a “dry run” the day before the fallen Marines’ family and friends would actually come aboard and sail out of Norfork to deep water and back.

So literally hundreds gathered for the pre-funeral practice - the destroyer casts its mooring lines and off the ship went, the ship’s officer making sure everything was in place, telling the sailors where to stand the next day in their starched whites, and rehearsing the details down to the minute.

During the practice, they even used a casket because nobody in the naval yard had ever taken part in the ritual that was abandoned long ago. So as the band practiced what its members would play the next day and the choir sang and all the ship’s sailors watched with rapt attention, the “practice casket” was dedicated to the sea and – guess what – it floated. Today’s caskets are water proof.

Now what? That was the foremost question as the destroyer lumbered back into port and as telephone calls and radio transmissions sought a solution, the United States Navy, at the behest of the United States Marines, was suddenly stumped on what to do.

When the gangplank was soon secure in Norfolk, the commander in charge of the huge Naval yard was waiting on the Marine at the dock with a unique idea. The two went to an old tavern near the ship yard where real old veterans sometimes retired to tell old yarns. There they found a couple of World War II “salts.”

And it was there they found that you drill about six 12-inch holes at strategic points in the casket, throw about 400 pounds of lead shot in the bottom of the box, and a few other pointers – like, for God’s sake, don’t ask just six sailors to try to carry it once it is duly equipped

The next day, in a funeral that now included the World War II veterans with tears streaming down their cheeks, the band played, the choir sang all the way out of port and back, and every sailor stood tall and starched for their fallen brother. The Marine’s casket settled on the sea after the valiant soldier’s farewell and then, ever so gently, sank to the bottom of the ocean.

We must never forget that every veteran makes a contribution, that no matter how seemingly small or insignificant, it is each of the parts that make the whole. So if you go to the concert tonight, remember that the money you spend will help all of our heroes.

Never forget it is each one of them that makes this the greatest country this world has ever known.

royexum@aol.com