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They brought his body back home to Michigan and put it beside that of his young wife. An unmarked plot. No reminder that this was a good guy, a loyal friend, a brave soldier. Just a grave.

Mel isnʼt your normal friend. Heʼs way better. He enlisted the help from another cannoneer who was at that remote outpost over four decades ago. Another good guy... one who measures his words, expresses his thoughts, and keeps his promises… Larry.

Mel and Larry fought another long battle to get a proper military headstone. Here, the story took a sensational turn that touches the heart: The quarry, the engraver, the shipper, and the cemetery all donated... donated... their products, skills and services to get the stone to Andyʼs grave.

The day may have been dreary. The mood solemn. The memories sobering. But, thanks to a lot of Andyʼs true friends (and others of us who know the horrors of that day so long ago), Sergeant Andy Bailey has been accorded the dignity he earned. A beautiful piece of granite... and a vial of dirt from that firebase in Vietnam... now guard his grave.

During my speech, I mentioned the 25th Infantry and saw three faces in the back row light up. Iʼd held my emotions through the prayer, the reading, the 21 gun salute, and even the mornful 24 notes that play “Taps.” But now, after the cermony, I was touched by those three when they approached my buddy Carl and me near the stone.

They were 25th infantrymen who were briefly at our location.  They fought the ground war in the “Battle for Tay Ninh Province.”  The three were all from Michigan and had remained friends. They had heard about the ceremony and travelled quite a way to be there.

“Weʼve been wanting this chance for years,” one of them said.  “We came to meet A Battery of the 2nd/32nd. You guys saved our lives a few times.”

Carl and I told them it was the other way around... they had bailed us out many times over that year in the jungle.  We left it as a situation of mutual respect and appreciation.