October 21, 2000
Seaman recruit, killed on Cole, buried at Arlington

By STEPHANIE A. CROCKETT
© 2000, The Virginian-Pilot

Virginia Beach resident Louge Gunn, father of Seaman Apprentice Cherone Louis Gunn, 

salutes his son after his burial at Arlington National Cemetery. Photo by Genevieve Ross / The Virginian-Pilot.

 ARLINGTON -- First, there were the cars. Twenty-eight of them, in a row. All following the hearse that held Cherone Louis Gunn of Virginia Beach.

Navy seaman recruit. Brother. Son. Friend.

Those who loved him stood by silently as the Navy ceremonial guard pulled his flag-covered casket from the hearse.

Heads held high, they followed as his body was escorted to its final resting place on hallowed ground at Arlington National Cemetery. Among war veterans and others who died on active duty.

Beside Richard Costelow, who died with Gunn and 15 others aboard the destroyer Cole.

Where he belongs.

``God has chosen to take our brother Cherone...

The honor guard held the American flag taut above the gray coffin while prayers asked God to welcome Cherone into eternal life and to comfort those who grieve for him.

Louge Gunn, Cherone's father, grabbed his wife Mona's hand and kissed it under the clear sky and warm October sun.

Shots rang out. One. Two. Three, from seven rifles, with a bracing formality that this country reserves for those who lose their lives protecting her.

The lonely strains of ``Taps'' sounded in the distance. Cherone's mother wiped her eyes.

In locked precision, the honor guard tightened their grip on the flag and folded it over and over until it was a tight triangle.

On bended knee, Rear Adm. W. Clyde Marsh placed the flag that had draped Cherone's coffin gently in his mother's lap.

Four more times flags were ceremoniously placed on the coffin, then presented to each of the immediate family members: Cherone's father, then the younger brothers, Jason and Jamal.

Anton Gunn, Cherone's older brother, took a deep breath when Marsh presented him with the flag.

He held it for a moment as he stared down at the flag in his hands. Then he exhaled as he wrapped both arms around it and pulled it tightly to his chest.

``He was born of dust and to dust he shall return. . . ''

At the end of the 20-minute ceremony, Louge Gunn, retired Navy chief, walked slowly to the casket where his 22-year-old son lay.

He placed the flag against the coffin, fell to his knees, and rested his head against it.

For a moment he stayed there, letting the flag catch his tears.

Then he rose and tucked the symbol of freedom under his left arm. Holding the flag and ignoring the tears streaming down his face, he stood above the coffin and gave a salute, a final farewell to his son, his hero.

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Click on links below to visit Seaman Gunn's Living Memorial Site

web master brdavidcsf@aol.com