for those of you who used to enjoy OEH's writings, whether they were humor or serious. This is his latest.
he funeral procession swung off the paved road onto the well packed gravel lane
leading up to the gate keeper's cabin. The gunny was standing on the porch waiting
for them. His dress blues were not keeping him warm but there was no quiver to his
erect stance and his salute was quick and snappy when the hearse pulled up.

His spit polished shoes glistened and contrasted with the soft white snow as
he walked to the back of the hearse. He had expected that he would be gone long
before this day would come, but the old elk hunters cancer had been advanced
and merciless. He was found by his wife where he had slumped over the M70 he
was cleaning at his reloading bench. There was one fired 30-06 case laying on
the bench near his ever present coffee mug.

The casket was carefully transferred from the hearse to the back of the gunny's
old pickup and on top of a bed of freshly cut pine boughs. The occupants of the
limosines crunched through the snow and clambored up into available seats in
the pickups, jeeps, and other 4x4's that made up most of the procession.

It was a slow and slippery route through the gate and up the many miles to the
meadow where the elk still gathered. No one in the procession complained.
No one said much at all. The elk herds moved off to the side of the meadow
as the procession neared the rock where the old elk hunter's blind still stood.

A diverse group bailed out the rigs carrying shovels and picks to the base of the rock.
The wood that made up the blind was moved aside as men turned to the hard job
of digging a grave in the nearly frozen soil. Boards were laid across the completed
hole and the casket set on top. Words were said as Marines, hunters, and
other friends bowed their heads and hid their emotions if they could. After the
prayers a few grizzled old men went to their rigs and pulled out well worn rifle
cases and prepared for the final salute. One young Marine joined them with his M16.
He was surprised when his aunt brought a rifle case out of the gunny's truck
and told him to use the old M70 instead. She said that his uncle wanted the
rifle to go to him and she thought this was the best way for him to start using
it.

The gunney gave the orders as the old heavy barreled Springfields and M70's
pointed skyward and gave the final salute. Unnoticed were the elk who did't run
at the sound of the salvos. They had stood motionless until the salvos were
finished before they finally faded into the pines.

After the last shovel full of cold earth was packed on top of the unmarked grave.
The wood and limbs of the old blind were piled on top of the grave and the mourners
departed leaving the high meadow once again to the elk and the elements.

Month's later the old elk hunter's nephew returned to visit the gunny in his gate
keeper's cabin. The nephew was now out of the service and beginning civilian life.
He listened intently as the gunny told him many stories of his uncle and friends
and the many hunts they had shared. He even got to like the cowboy coffee the
gunny made. He knew he would return in the fall to hunt elk in the meadow as
his uncle had done. He also decided to use the old M70 for that hunt. His
aunt had given him one empty fired case to reload for that hunt. She told him
he would only need one since the Marines had taught him well.

On the way out of town he stopped his heavily loaded pickup at Nosler. There
was little room left in the truck among the old elk hunters gear that his wife had
given to the young man. He had one special purchase to make as he walked
into the warm building. The retail shop was a wonderful place full of fine rifles
and reloading components. When asked he told the clerk he wanted just one box of 180
grain 30 caliber Partitions. He quipped to the clerk that box would last him 100
hunts like an earlier box had his uncle and great uncle. Curiousity lead the clerk
to ask what was behind that statement and the young man proudly told the story
of the original box of bullets hand made by John Nosler.

Sensing the special nature of the customer's request the clerk asked him to wait in
the shop a bit. The old elk hunter's nephew didn't mind waiting with so many fine
firearms and gear to look at. Eventually the clerk returned with a wry grin on his
face and he was followed by a very old man who placed a dusty bullet box on
the counter and said "Here young man, this box should last you a long time". The young
man opened the old box and saw that it held lathe turned Partitions. Realizing what the
old man had given him he barely got out "What do I owe you Mr. Nosler?".

The old man replied "Not a damn thing Kid. Glad to help a young elk hunter get started.".


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Another great one from OEH