The First Fold
is the symbol of life

The Second Fold
is a symbol of our belief in eternal life

The Third Fold
is made in honor and remembrance of the Veteran departing our ranks, who gave a portion of their life in defense of our Country, to attain peace throughout the world

The Fourth Fold
represents our weaker nature

For, as American citizens trusting in God, it is to Him we turn to, in times of peace, as well as in times of war, for His Divine guidance

The Fifth Fold
is a tribute to our country for the words of Stephen Decatur:

"Our country, in dealing with other countries,
may she always be right, but it is still our country ,
right, or wrong"

The Sixth Fold
is for where our hearts lie
It is with our hearts that we pledge allegiance to the Flag of the United States of America, and to the Republic for which it stands, one Nation, under God, Indivisible, with Liberty and Justice for ALL

The Seventh Fold
is a tribute to our Armed Forces
For it is through the Armed Forces, that we protect our Country and our Flag, against all her enemies Whether they be found within, or outside the Boundaries of our Republic

The Eighth Fold
is a tribute to the one who entered into the Valley of the Shadow of Death, that we might see the light of day.

The Ninth Fold
is a tribute to Womanhood
For it has been through their Faith, Love, Loyalty and Devotion, that the character of the men and women who have made this Country great have been molded and to Honor the Mother for whom it flies on Mother's Day

The Tenth Fold
is a tribute to the Father
For he too has given his sons and daughters, for the defense of our Country, since they were first born.

The Eleventh Fold,
in the eyes of a Hebrew citizen, represents the lower portion of the Seal of King David and King Solomon and glorifies in their eyes, the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob

The Twelfth Fold,
in the eyes of a Christian citizen, represents an emblem of Eternity and Glorifies in their eyes, God the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost

When the Flag is Completely Folded, the stars are uppermost.
Reminding us of our National Motto:
"In God we trust"

After the Flag is completely folded and tucked in, it takes on the appearance of a cocked hat.
Ever reminding us of the Soldiers, who served under General George Washington and the Sailors and Marines who served under Captain John Paul Jones, who were followed by their Comrades and Ship Mates in the Armed Forces of the United States, preserving our rights, privileges, and freedoms we enjoy today.

My name is Corporal Rudy Ibarra Jr.
I am stationed at Henderson Hall and work at Headquarters Marine Corps.
I have seen a lot of things in my time and have been a part of many interesting adventures in the Marine Corps.
But nothing in my past could have given me the pleasure of experiencing the Marine Corps as I did today.
I was asked to volunteer for a funeral for retired Sergeant Major Herbert Sweet, fourth Sergeant Major of the Marine Corps and a true Marine.
I knew very little about this man, just that he was a Marine.
That's all I needed to know.
If his wife wanted a Marine present at his service, then a Marine she would get.
I did not feel that it was a painful service and something that I had to go out of my way to do.
I felt it was my great honor to represent my father and all the men who served with the Sergeant Major during World War II.
My father and Sgt. Maj. Sweet probably never met, or even knew of each other's existence, but they were Marines, and Marines are brothers for life.
He was on Iwo Jima during the time Sgt. Maj. Sweet was chewing the same dirt, as all the other great men who gave of themselves and their lives on that island. This funeral meant more to me then just another detail that I was assigned to; it was a time to give back a little of what the Marine Corps has given me and all others before me.
I arrived early at the funeral parlor.
We had a Sergeant, a Lance Corporal and one other Corporal, besides myself.
We entered the room that held the Sergeant Major's coffin.
We set up the flags, and I walked half way up to the coffin.
I stopped.
A flash of memories and future events rolled through my mind.
I saw my childhood friend, Ronnie, who died in a car crash.
I went to his funeral.
He was a Marine and died just before he was supposed to get out.
He wanted to make a future for himself outside of the Marine Corps.
I saw my Father ...this was the worst vision.
I saw my father in that coffin, with the draped American flag.
I saw all of this in a matter of seconds, but it seemed like hours.
I wanted to leave, but I could not, because I could not disgrace my father, or my Corps, by leaving.
My Father told me once: "Don't ever disgrace my Corps, or my country son.
Too many Marines have died, for you to mess it up".
He loves the Corps and to imagine the feelings my father has for his Corps, after all this time, is something that can only be experienced through serving in the Corps yourself.
People often ask me why I joined, and I tell them because of my father.
He never told me to do it, or even hinted at it.
He is a great man and a Marine.
One who I would love to be like.
One who is respected wherever he goes and by whomever he talks to.
He hardly mentions his time in and what he has seen.
But you know he was in because of his faded tattoo.
An Eagle, Globe and Anchor, on his right forearm.
It is black and white, faded, and not as sharp as it once was, when it was young.
As time pressed on, we were told that Sgt. Maj. Sweet's family was present and on deck.
We placed our covers and headed to the door to meet a woman I had never seen.
She and her whole family were in the main entrance waiting for us.
We Marines, whom she had never met, yet wanted to see us, to tell each of us "thank-you" for volunteering to come.
She shook the hands of two Marines before mine, but when she got to me she said:
"Thank you for coming and volunteering your time."
I said: "It was an honor to be here and represent my Corps to your husband."
I told her my father and her husband had chewed the same dirt on Iwo Jima together and that I represent not only myself, but my father in his absence.
I shook with both my hands, surrounding her one, but after I said that, she put her other hand on mine.
She was proud of her husband and what he stood for, so she was proud of us.
This is just what I have been trying to express to all Marines I meet.
It is incredible what love there is for you, just because you're a simple word:
"Marine".
To this woman, it meant enough to embrace us and to accept us into her family.
She didn't care what we had done in the past, or if we were the best the Marine Corps had to offer.
All she knew is that her husband and we, were equal in one way;
a title that we all had to earn and all must maintain throughout our career.
"MARINE"...
That word is such a simple word...but so powerful.
It is more than a title;
it means that you are now a part of a brotherhood that will never die,
"because the Marine Corps will live forever."
Many people came in to the funeral parlor and the first few were mostly civilians.
I had the pleasure of meeting former Sergeants Majors of the Marine Corps, World War II Veterans, Korean War Veterans, and Marines who are still serving.
All expressed love for their Corps and their fellow brothers, who have died and the ones who still serve our Country.
A lot has changed since the days of World War II.
But one thing remains the same...
You never forget people you meet in the Marine Corps.
They will never forget Sgt. Maj. Sweet.
A man who influenced them, not because he was the Sergeant Major of the Marine Corps, but because he was a man who cared about Marines.
You do not get four Purple Hearts for standing by and watching other people work and carry your load.
He earned one of his Purple Hearts when he was a First Sergeant.
He wanted to fight and fight he did.
He put his life on the line for his Marines.
He could not ask them to put their lives at risk, if he did not give of his own.
The local chapter of the Fleet Reserve Marine Force was there.
A Chapter that the Sergeant Major was a member of.
They had a little meeting in a separate room away from the coffin.
They had wanted to move the colors in front of the coffin for a ceremony they conduct when one of their fellow shipmates passes on.
I had overheard them, so when they came out of the room, I went up to the leader of the chapter and asked if he wanted us to move the colors.
I figured he would just want us to move them in front of the coffin and that would be it.
He asked if I and the Sergeant would hold the flags on either side of the coffin and stand at attention.
We said yes, and proceeded to get the colors.
I took the Marine Corps flag and the Sergeant took the American flag.
The head of the chapter led the other members to the front of the Sergeant Major's coffin after we had posted.
One man called attention to orders.
He read words from a sheet of paper that seemed like poetry.
"Here we have today, our shipmate who has fallen, but will never be forgotten ..."
I really can't remember, word for word, but it started out so beautifully.
He continued:
"Sergeant Major Sweet has been given orders to serve post at the side of God."
That brought memories of our song, the Marines' Hymn.
We guard the Gates of Heaven, and now the Sergeant Major guards the Commandant of Heaven.
After he read his message, he called roll.
All members were present until he called:
"Sergeant Major Sweet ...
Sergeant Major Sweet ...
Sergeant Major Sweet ...
Sergeant Major Sweet."
He said this four times, then one man in the rear responded:
"He is unable to answer his presence, for he is now at a new post".
In those few moments, when his name went unanswered, I felt my own heart filled with the same emotion as all others who knew him.
I have lost a brother and a friend.
As a child, I was told never to cry and as I grew up in the Marine Corps, I was told never to show emotion.
"Bearing", is what we call it.
A stone face and a cold heart.
My eyes watered up and one tear was about to leave my trembling face.
Then, the end of the names were read, and a man from the chapter standing over a cassette player, pressed a button and played Taps.
All stood at attention, and all stood proud.
As I heard the sweet, sad song of the lone Bugler, my eyes began to shed tears.
My emotions let loose, because this is what I will one day have to do for my Father and my future family will have to do for me.
Stand at attention for a 'Fallen Brother'.
His coffin draped with the Flag for which he fought.
A Flag which he loved very much.
I did not care who saw my tears, or if it was not manly to show them in public.
I cried with all the others who heard that song played that day.
I knew the men in the chapter saw and most of them cried as well.
I heard their hearts, as I heard my own.
We all lost a brother that day.
In fact, we lose Marines every day.
Most of them under preventable circumstances, that could have been avoided.
All are important and all, no matter what they have done, are still Marines.
"Semper Fidelis" is not just "Always Faithful", but a code by which we all live.
No matte r if you like the Corps or not, you will always be loved by me and my fellow Marines, who have shaped t his Marine Corps, as we know it today.
So if you ever think of this Corps in a negative way, just remember what you are doing.
You are disgracing my Corps and the many Marines who died to give us what we have today.
You are disgracing a title that everyone knows.
A title that everyone has to earn and maintain.
A title called:

The good Lord was creating a model for military wives and was into His sixth day of overtime when an angel appeared.
She said:
"Lord, you seem to be having a lot of trouble with this one.
What's wrong with the standard model?"
The Lord replied:
"Have you seen the specs on this order.
She has to be completely independent...
possess the qualities of both father and mother...
be a perfect hostess to four, or forty, with an hour's notice...
run on black coffee...
handle every emergency imaginable, without a manual...
be able to carry on cheerfully, even if she is pregnant and has the flu...
and...
she must be willing to move to a new location, ten times in seventeen years.
And, oh yes, she must have six pairs of hands!"
The angel shook her head:
"Six pairs of hands? No way."
The Lord continued:
"Don't worry.
I will make other military wives to help her.
And I will give her an unusually strong heart so it can...
swell with pride in her husband's achievements...
sustain the pain of separations...
beat soundly when it is overworked and tired...
and...
be large enough to say:
"I understand", when she doesn't...
and say:
"I love you'... regardless."
"Lord," said the angel, touching his arm gently,
"Go to bed and get some rest.
You can finish this tomorrow."
"I can't stop now," said the Lord."
"I am so close to creating something unique.
Already this model...
heals herself when she is sick...
can put up six unexpected guests for the weekend...
wave goodbye to her husband from a pier, a runway or a depot...
and...
understand why it's important that he leave."
The angel circled the model of the military wife, looked at it closely and sighed, "It looks fine, but it's too soft."
"She might look soft," replied the Lord.
"But she has the strength of a lion.
You would not believe what she can endure."
Finally the angel bent over and ran her finger across the cheek of the Lord's creation.
"There's a leak," she announced.
"Something is wrong with the construction.
I am not surprised that it has cracked.
You are trying to put too much into this model."
The Lord appeared offended at the angel's lack of confidence.
"What you see is not a leak," He said.
"It's a tear."
"A tear?" What is it there for?" asked the angel.
The Lord replied,
"It's for joy, sadness, pain, disappointment, loneliness, pride, and a dedication to all the values that she and her husband hold dear."
"You are a genius!" exclaimed the angel.
The Lord looked puzzled and replied:

"I didn't put it there."

Author Unknown

The following commentary was submitted anonymously and recently appeared in "The Scout".
The Command newspaper serving Camp Pendleton, Calif.
A Foreign Diplomat who often criticized American Policy once observed a United States Marine perform the Evening colors Ceremony.
C The diplomat wrote about this simple but solemn ceremony in a letter to his country. Quote:

During one of the past few days, I had occasion to visit the U.S. Embassy in our Capital after official working hours.
I arrived at a quarter to six and was met by the Marine on Guard at the entrance of the Chancery.
He asked if I would mind waiting while he lowered the two American Flags at the Embassy.
What I witnessed over the next 10 minutes so impressed me that I am now led to make this occurrence a part of my ongoing record of this distressing era.
The Marine was dressed in a uniform which was spotless and neat;
he walked with a measured tread from the entrance of the Chancery to the stainless steel flagpole before the Embassy and, almost reverently, lowered the Flag to the level of his reach where he began to fold it in Military fashion. He then released the Flag from the clasps attaching it to the rope, stepped back from the pole, made an about face, and carried the Flag between his hands --
one above, one below -- and placed it securely on a stand before the Chancery.
He then marched over to the second flagpole and repeated the same lonesome ceremony.
On the way between poles, he mentioned to me very briefly that he would soon be finished.
After completing his task, he apologized for the delay -- out of pure courtesy, as nothing less than incapacity would have prevented him from fulfilling his goal -- and said to me:

"Thank you for waiting, Sir.
I had to pay honor to my country."

"I am sorry for the delay, Sir.
I had to honor my country."

"A Marine Introspection"

"The Same Star"

you see a single star,
twinkling in a darkened sky,
gazing ... remembering ...hoping
holding back the fear,
alone with your rifle,
silence ...
broken only by sporadic gunfire,
off in the distance,
another life ... a world away,
warmth there ... love there ...
sadness here ...
sadness you can taste
and despair !
a star shines there and here,
there, it's lovers talking softly
here, it's danger from the light,
the same star ...
twinkling there ...
dimming here ...
the same star,
radiating it's serene message there
and sending slivers of fear raining down here,
the same star ...
the folly of men ... the "glory" of war,
you close your eyes ... the star has faded,
you guard your post,
you cry ...
and die a little inside ...