It is a blustery day, the wind snatching many of the words of comfort from the preacher’s mouth before those assembled at the gravesite can decipher them. No harm done, Nick thinks. Unless this is their first funeral, they’ll know the gist of what is being said. The deceased is an ex-marine named Conrad Mitchell. Connie, to those who knew him. The honor guard is from the local American Legion post—veterans, volunteers. Not all their uniforms exactly matching. Some wear garrison caps, others have baseball caps, both identifying the post number; they all wear long-sleeved white shirts with honor guard