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Dave Taylor and Dennis Lamb, left, and Rob Taylor, right, help carry the casket carrying Tom Lamb III to its burial site Friday at Aspen Hill Cemetery. The three were part of a military honor guard for the elder Lamb, who served in the U.S. Navy in WWII and was an American Legion member for more than 60 years. NEWS&GUIDE PHOTO / BRADLY J. BONER

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He arrived to flags blowing gently in the wind. An American flag, a Wyoming flag, a Veteran’s flag and the flag of American Legion Post No. 43. The servicemen and women stood straight as his car passed, some of their postures a shadow of what they were years ago.

The sound of a bagpipe greeted him. The flags lowered as other service members opened the door, helping him out, his casket draped in an American flag.

It was time to offer Tom Lamb III, a Jackson Hole native and World War II veteran, a final salute.

Almost once a month, members of American Legion Post No. 43 honor fellow veterans at their funerals. Sometimes they don’t know the deceased personally, but they always know a part of them, the veteran part, said David Bentlage, post commander.

“Even if I didn’t know them, it still gets to me,” he said.

Sometimes the dead served only brief stints in the military. Others made it their career. It doesn’t matter how long they served or when, Bentlage said.

Tom Lamb III was a patriot. He joined the Navy in 1942.

For years, he put flags on graves of veterans every Memorial Day. During more than 60 years in the American Legion, he attended countless funerals.

Dennis Lamb, his grandson, remembers one funeral several years ago. It was freezing; snow was blowing. His grandfather was in his 80s, holding the heaviest of the flags, the American flag.

He was like a statue.

“That was inspirational to me,” Dennis Lamb said. “We were standing there a long time, and he didn’t move a tick. That was his way to honor the veteran. And if Grandpa wasn’t going to move, by God, I wasn’t going to move.”

Lamb was 88 when he died Feb. 8.

In 60 years, people might not remember the sacrifices those currently in Iraq made, but those veterans still will be honored following in tradition, Bentlage said.

“It’s our way of giving a final thank you for a fellow veteran,” Bentlage said.

Even those serving only a few years never forget some things: How to hold a rifle, to always salute the American flag when it goes past, to never forget the others who have served.

“It’s kind of ingrained in you, somewhere deep inside,” he said. “Once it’s instilled in you, it’s always there.”

Dennis Lamb resisted joining the Legion years ago. It seemed self-serving at the time. But after a few funerals, he realized the Legion was about something bigger.

“It’s about honoring the veteran, of course, but the family as well,” he said.

Sometimes families don’t realize a person was a legend or a war hero, or the significance of their service, until the funeral. The Legion lets family members know their loved one contributed to something greater than themselves, he said.

“It’s the final respects for someone who did something so selfless,” Lamb said of Legion honors.

He learned firsthand what that meant when he led a line of Legion members, including three cousins, into the First Baptist Church on Friday and stood before his grandfather’s coffin.

The Legion honor guard is an assortment of volunteers, some in their 80s. Different members play different roles depending on who can attend a service. They come from all branches of the military, some recently having left the service, others decades away from wearing a uniform. They move differently, remember different commands.

Eligible deceased veterans are entitled to at least the playing of taps and the folding of a flag by two service or former service members.

The Legion tries to provide a full honor guard with members holding flags and offering a 21-gun salute, depending on families’ wishes. Bentlage tries to make sure full honors always can be given if that is what a family wants.

They gather before to practice, never sure how many will show up, or sometimes even who the funeral is for. The call to duty sometimes comes the night before, so people try to scramble to juggle schedules and get time off.

“It’s a duty that needs done and honor for us to do it,” Bentlage said.

When there are seven, they pull out the rifles, listening and relearning the commands from Bentlage.

“Do not pull the trigger, though,” Bentlage reminded members practicing inside before a December funeral.

The movements get crisper with each practice.

“Present, huh.” The guns are straight up and down.

“Parade, huh.” They relax and a hand falls behind each back.

The movements and orders bring back the discipline of the military, Dennis Lamb said.

“It’s a reminder it’s important to have that attention to detail,” he said.

At the First Baptist Church on Friday, Tom Lamb III, lay in a flag-draped coffin. Legion members stretched the flag out, holding it up, before moving together. Bentlage held his salute.

They had practiced the 13 folds, working to get them just right, so they made a perfect triangle.

On Friday, Dennis Lamb’s hands shook as the final folds were made and the flag was left with him.

He kneeled. “I present this flag on behalf of a grateful nation,” he said to his grandmother.

He saluted the flag, and his grandfather’s service, again before marching out.

“Giving my grandmother that flag was one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do,” he said. “It was also one of the most honorable.”

The presentation of the flag to the widow is the most moving part of the honors given to military, even if the Legion member doesn’t know the family, Bentlage said.

It is like there is a spotlight on him and the widow.

“It’s very difficult to look, even an old woman, in the eyes and say ‘I’m sorry for your loss,’ ” he said.

Bentlage still remembers the first flag he presented about 10 years ago. Often the widow will touch his hand as the flag is passed. Emotion often wells from deep within.

“As military, you try to hold it together,” he said. “You try put forth the proud traditions of the military.”

“Hopefully, you can choke it down and do it right and move on to the rest of the ceremony,” he said.

Widow Cile Lamb left the church Friday, the flag sitting on her walker. After lunch it was brought back in and, with the same reverence and ceremony, the casket was re-draped before the Legion members offered another solemn salute and Tom Lamb III was taken on one last trip around the Town Square and then to Aspen Hill Cemetery.

Bentlage was there waiting. He adjusted the positioning of those with rifles, ever so slightly, before stepping out to offer commands.

There was the click of the rifles as they loaded.

Bentlage ordered, “Aim, fire,” three times.

And then the lonely sound of taps echoed, drowning out the sound of skiers cutting down the mountain at nearby Snow King Resort.

Legion members often quietly depart when their role is done. But at Lamb’s service, many hung behind. Bentlage paused before the coffin and placed one shell from the gun salute among the scattered roses.

As Cile Lamb got into her pearl Cadillac, the flag on the dashboard, Dennis Lamb brought his son Matthew to the graveside.

The 6-year-old asked about saluting properly and why it was done, first putting up the wrong hand.

It is to show respect, Dennis Lamb always tells his son.

Lamb showed him the correct way.

And the two stood facing the coffin, fingers at their brow, offering one final salute.