In Memory of Jesse Wayne Dietrich
by Elaine Smith
Glad for the shade of a small tree, I sat on a bare spot of ground beside Highway 377 to wait and reflect on what I
had seen during my walk around downtown. Flags fluttering, horses swishing their tails, people chatting, all were
waiting to pay their respects to a young, fallen soldier. The funeral procession taking United States Army specialist
Jesse Wayne Dietrich to his chosen burial space beneath a large oak tree on a ranch near Gustine, Texas was due
to pass through Dublin. The riding club members were ready in their bright red shirts, white gloves and holding
large, American flags. Flags also lined Patrick Street, creating an almost festive atmosphere until the grave visage of
a man in uniform standing in the sun came into view—awaiting his opportunity to salute the fallen. One motorist
asked me if there was going to be a parade. Taken aback, I gently informed her of the unusual event about to take
place.
Having buried both my parents, WWII veterans in the DFW National Cemetery with military honors; and knowing that Jesse, a twenty year old man, not yet old eno ՝