Like many Chattanoogans, I heeded the call Wednesday afternoon to stand alongside the funeral procession and pay tribute to Medal of Honor recipient Capt. Larry Taylor, who had died on Jan. 28 at the age of 81 of cancer complications.
While it was about 80 or 90 percent patriotism in thanking this Vietnam veteran for heroism in carrying four soldiers to safety with his heroic helicopter rescue in that faraway Southeast Asian land in 1968, it was also about 10 percent nosy reporter. That is, even though I was not planning on writing anything.
But it seemed like such a unique and worthwhile event that I was inspired after being out there on the equally uplifting day of perfectly sunny and mild February weather.
I had done enough of the important activities I needed to do by about 2 p.m., so I headed out from my home in the Northgate Mall area to Bailey Avenue not too far from the National Cemetery, where he was to be buried. I was thinking that if there were a big crowd already there, I could maybe park at Warner Park and walk a couple of blocks over.
But I turned right on Bailey Avenue from Holtzclaw Avenue after coming via Amnicola Highway, and I saw the Chattanooga Area Schools Federal Credit Union off Spruce Street with an open parking lot. I decided to park there and sit and grade some papers I had brought from the adjunct journalism class I teach up at the University of Tennessee. I was also hoping no one would come out and tell me to leave.
They did not, so I eventually got out and crossed over the side Spruce Street and sat on the short wall of a long-gone homesite and continued grading papers. It was a wonderful and peaceful setting next to this empty-but-grass-covered lot. In fact, I actually thought I had gone back in time with the numerous old homes around me. It could have even been a World War II event if not for all the late-model automobiles and the handful of newer office buildings.
As the time reached between about 2:45 and 3 p.m., I decided to cross over Bailey, which had a car of maybe someone like an auxiliary policeman sitting horizontally and keeping people from going east toward Holtzclaw. I stood near the cemetery wall and fence and, after noticing for the first time a simply beautiful and large tree in front of the Southeast Financial Credit Union diagonally across the street, realized I was evidently going to witness an important part of the ceremony.
There where the old entrance gates were open on this rare occasion stood a glass-covered carriage with two large horses of differing breeds. Several people stood around them, and I could tell the two women and man and others taking care of the horses had friendly manners and did not mind people coming up and talking to them. There were no comments telling people to get away as you sometimes see at such events.
I did hear one of the young women say the horses were maybe tired of standing for an hour or more.
Also standing around this area and waiting were white people, black people, older and younger people, and even a few people wearing Tennessee Vols clothing, perhaps an ode to Capt. Taylor’s alma mater. It was a nice mix of various Chattanoogans. They were evidently united by Capt. Taylor’s valor to uphold the freedoms and opportunities in America.
As the traffic that had been coming down Bailey Avenue ceased about 3 p.m. or shortly after, I knew something was getting ready to happen. I have forgotten the order, but at different times came about five cars with flashing blue lights, another single vehicle with a flashing light, too, and going at an extremely high rate of speed, and several police motorcyclists stopping traffic from entering the side roads.
Then came a long line of the procession led by some more motorcycle law officers, and there was something beautiful about it all to me. In fact, I got a little choked up. And that included when the horse-drawn carriage pulled out onto Bailey Avenue to rendezvous with the Lane Funeral Home hearse carrying Capt. Taylor’s cremated remains.
I must admit that as a non-veteran or non-law officer, I was not sure what I was supposed to do, so I alternated just standing still, putting my arm over my heart, and sneaking in a few photos – as most of the 10 or 15 people in that area were doing as well.
When the hearse stopped behind the horse carriage, four soldiers in slow precision that resembled slow motion took the small casket-like wooden container out of the back and slowly marched over and placed it in the glass container of the horse carriage.
Then, with one or two of the young women walking beside them, the two horses very powerfully pulled the carriage now carrying his remains at a seemingly fast-walking clip around to Holtzclaw Avenue and into the cemetery for the committal service. As they had headed to Holtzclaw, the horses amidst the backdrop of a giant American flag being draped over the intersection by two cranes made for an impressive scene.
A dozen or more vehicles carrying family members and close friends in bus-like vans and other cars soon followed, after being stopped in traffic briefly for the transfer of the remains. A bus carrying some Vietnam veterans was also in the caravan.
Soon, however, Bailey Avenue returned to normal. The end had come for this procession that was, due to Capt. Taylor’s long and fruitful life, seemingly much happier than it might be for someone killed on the field of battle at a young age.
Capt. Larry Taylor had long ago carried four soldiers to safety in enemy territory, and now a carriage was carrying his remains to his final resting place at the National Cemetery in his beloved and friendly hometown and country.
And plenty of others – including me - were carrying thankful thoughts of him in their hearts.
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Jcshearer2@comcast.net