Before the two stainless steel caskets were closed for eternity the funeral director had a final mission, the last thing to do for the strangers who had become part of her life.

And then it would be over.

She’d never get answers to questions that had haunted her since October, when she received a phone call after the bodies of both men had been found.

Who were they?

How did they get to Portland?

Who loved them?

Who did they love?

The men had died of natural causes, both found in their rooms in two of the city’s low-income apartment buildings.

They were buried Tuesday in Willamette National Cemetery not in the uniforms they wore when they served their country during the Vietnam War, but each in a pair of well-used jeans and a functional jacket, a different uniform, one worn by many men in the Portland’s downtown core, men getting by the best they can.

That didn’t seem right to Crystal Purdy-Newland, who has been in this business for 14 years, the last 11 at Lincoln Memorial Park & Funeral Home across from Willamette National Cemetery.

She took two sheets and stood over the caskets that would soon be draped with American flags. Gently, she used a sheet to tuck in each man, just the way a mother does at the end of the day when she wants to comfort her child before it’s time to sleep.

“I looked at each of their faces and acknowledged them,” said Purdy-Newland, 39. “I’m not terribly religious, but I’d like to think, somehow, they were aware I cared.”

She closed the caskets.

***

It began last month with two phone calls from the Multnomah County Medical Examiner’s Office to Purdy-Newland. Her funeral home is part of the Dignity Memorial Homeless Veterans Program, a national organization that’s provided 1,700 funerals for veterans whose bodies were not claimed.

On the morning of Oct. 4, Purdy-Newland learned that no one had come forward to claim the remains of Danny Joe Mendenhall, 62, a U.S Navy veteran of the Vietnam War whose body had been found in a Northwest Portland apartment.

On the afternoon of Oct. 17, she got a second call, this one because no one had claimed the body of Douglas Ray Walls, 64, a U.S Marine who had served during the Vietnam War.

With the help of data bases and researchers, Purdy-Newland found only a distant cousin to Mendenhall.

“He lived far across the country in another state,” she said. “He told me the last time he’d seen Mr. Mendenhall was 40 years ago at his aunt’s wedding. He knew nothing about him.”

She learned Mendenhall had been born in Tacoma. His parents had died, and he had no siblings. She could not find out when he arrived in Portland or what he did in town. She learned even less about Walls, only that he’d been born in a small town in Iowa and somehow made his way to Portland.

Both veterans, she believed, need to be buried with full military honors. Her funeral home paid for the caskets and all costs associated with burial, about $6,500 for each man.

“We have the resources to assist in situations like this,” she said. She then used social media to tell people about the funerals, asking that people in the community come pay their respects.

“I always do that on these cases,” she said. “We’re not asking for donations. Just come out from the goodness of your heart. I never know how many people will respond.”

In her office Tuesday, a few hours before the funeral, Purdy-Newland, mused about family, life and death.

“These two men died alone” she said. “Yes, the bodies were not claimed. But unclaimed does not mean not loved. The people who come to this funeral will be a stand-in for the family, a way to express love and compassion.”

She looked at the paperwork for the two men, lives condensed to a few sheets of paper.

“No one,” she said, “wants to be forgotten.”

**

In another part of the funeral home, Purdy-Newland’s husband, Ian, was getting ready for the reception that would follow the funeral services. He is a chef with Epic Catering.

“I made all the food,” said Newland.

On his suit jacket, Newland wore a Purple Heart, awarded for service when he was wounded while in the U.S. Army fighting in Iraq. In 2006, a foreign fighter dropped a grenade into the Humvee that Newland and his buddies were riding in. A 19-year-old gunner used his body to cover the grenade. He died. Newland, severely wounded, has scars and shrapnel in his body.

“Today we are serving sweet chili meatballs and sandwiches,” he said. “Cookies and brownies.”

He fell silent.

“Cooking for these two men was intimate,” he said. “I considered it an honor, a way for one vet to honor two others.”

***

Ninety minutes before the funerals would take place, Purdy-Newland met with the woman who would accept one of the two flags draped on those caskets in a back room.

The military funeral, complete with taps and a gun salute, is a solemn affair. In each case, the flag is folded with precision and then given to a family member, presented with the words thanking the loved one for their service and sacrifice.

But what if there is no family member to accept the flag?

Last week, Purdy-Newland called Pat Lucas, filled her in about the funerals for two forgotten men and asked if she would accept the flag for Mendenhall. Cyrus Faussete, a 10-year-old private in the Lewis and Clark chapter of the Young Marines, would accept the flag for Walls.

There was no question about the answer.

“I am a gold star mother,” said Lucas, who lives in Molalla.

Her son, Jeffery Lucas, was a Navy Seal, killed in Afghanistan on June 28, 2005.

He is buried in Arlington National Cemetery.

He was 33.

Lucas, 72, sat in the Lincoln Memorial Park & Funeral Home, waiting until it was time to go across the street for the two ceremonies.

“This is my way to serve,” she said. “The flag I received at Jeff’s funeral was in a cedar chest my grandfather made for me when I was 16.”

And the flag she would receive Tuesday will go in the chest when she gets back home.

“I prayed for those two men this morning,” she said. “I will pray for them again tonight.”

***

About an hour before the funerals were supposed to start, only a handful of people were there to watch. Understandable. It was raining, and why come to a funeral for people you don’t know?

But those who were present said they needed to be there.

“It tugs at my heart,” said Paula Scott. “I hate to see anyone leave this world by themselves. I held my father’s hand as he passed. Everyone deserves a send-off with humanity.”

Barb Brandon saw a notice about the funerals in the obituaries and called two of her friends, Mary Blankenship and Nancy Clifton. They agreed they had to be at Willamette National Cemetery.

Service.

Sacrifice.

Commitment.

Clichés?

Perhaps.

But not when uttered as the rain fell and there were other places the three women could be.

A while later, the two hearses arrived, turning off Memorial Drive and making their way down Mount Hood Drive, stopping in front of men holding flags, waiting for the two caskets to be brought into a shelter.

Now, maybe 100 people were gathered to honor Douglas Ray Walls and Danny Joe Mendenhall.

And then came the cars, trucks and motorcycles.

Two.

Four more.

Ten more.

The line of traffic stretched from Mount Hood Drive down through Willamette National Cemetery to Southeast 112th Avenue and then all the way to Southeast Foster Road.

Hundreds and hundreds and hundreds of people.

In the rain.

All coming to say goodbye.

--Tom Hallman Jr.

thallman@oregonian.com; 503 221-8224

@thallmanjr

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