REQUIEM FOR A MARINE

In church near where he once played, Dieruf is honored

The flag-draped coffin stopped in the outer hall of the church. Six young Marines, their white gloves on tight, stood at attention. They folded the flag slowly, minding each crease, until it was a triangle in a Marine's arms.

Hundreds of people filled the pews at the Cathedral of Christ the King yesterday for Marine Cpl. Nicholas Dieruf, 21, who was killed by a rocket-propelled grenade in Iraq April 8.

The church organ played deep, mournful notes.

The priest walked down from the altar with a white shroud in his hands. He said Dieruf wore such a shroud at his baptism as an infant and now, as he left this world, he would be covered with a similar cloth.

Though the Rev. Paul Prabell didn't say it, many in the pews knew that Dieruf spent his youth in Lexington running and playing on the tree-lined streets just blocks away.

The priest spread the shroud over the gray steel coffin and sprinkled it with holy water.

"God of loving kindness, listen to our prayers," Prabell said.

The coffin was wheeled down the aisle, with Dieruf's family walking behind. His 22-year-old widow walked alongside a Marine from Dieruf's battalion. She was sobbing. The Marine looked straight ahead.

The church's bell sounded once, and then again, and again, with long lulls between.

There was a series of readings of biblical passages. The first, from Ecclesiastes, said that to everything there is a season, ending with the words: "A time to love, and a time to hate; a time of war, and a time of peace."

The death of a young man, a young soldier, always raises difficult questions, said the priest.

"We can be sure that Nick has fought the good fight as a faithful Marine," he said.

Blessed is the man who respects his country, and the many opinions of its people, the priest said. Blessed is the man "who dedicates himself to preserving their freedom."

"Blessed is Nick."

As the coffin was wheeled back down the aisle, the organ played The Battle Hymn of the Republic. The coffin stopped, again, in the outer hall. The shroud was removed, and the same six Marines unfolded the flag, slowly, and furled it across the coffin.

They picked it up, and carried it out the front door, into the bright sun.

A Cadillac limousine hearse took Nicholas Dieruf's body to Calvary Cemetery on Main Street. The wind blew through the pine trees and dogwoods. A train rumbled by, blowing its horn.

The six Marines slid the coffin into their hands, carrying it to the grave site.

They, once again, began folding the flag, watching its red stripes and white stars disappear. A bugler played taps. There was a 21-gun salute that made the crowd jump a little.

The flag was handed to the young widow, who trembled so much that her mother-in-law's arms, wrapped around her, trembled too. A few minutes later, she pressed her face to the coffin, crying, with the flag in her hand.LEXINGTONIAN laid to rest