More - so sad
Daniel Evans, an older brother, gave an emotion-filled eulogy. After looking out from the altar at the sea of faces, he said, “Wow. What a view. My brother touched so many lives.”
Then he added: “He was the gentlest of giants on whose shoulders we stand today.”
Turning to a large contingent of VMI cadets dressed in gray uniforms and wearing black wrist bands inscribed with “John Evans,” his brother said, “His love of VMI ran deep. And by never giving up and staying the course, this will keep my brother’s memory alive.”
As the recessional hymn “On Eagles Wings” filled the sanctuary, pallbearers slowly wheeled Evans’ mahogany casket down the aisle, and family members followed.
At the rear of the church, the pall which had covered it during the Mass was removed, and replaced by a U.S. flag.
Outside, under a leaden sky and slight drizzle, an honor guard stood at attention, waited to salute the casket.
A bugler sounded taps. Then a seven-member firing squad offered a 21-gun salute whose sharp volleys echoed over a rain-sodden Howard County cornfield.
After the flag was removed and folded with military precision, an officer presented it to Evans’ mother with a crisp salute.
VMI '70
Three rifle volleys, not a 21-gun salute.