On paper, the decision to cut the caisson outfit is not nearly as painful as some of the governor's other recommendations released Thursday. The state has laid off 5,700 employees in the past three years, and that number will go up under Sanford's plan. If the caisson's $100,000 is cut, nobody will be out of a job, a scholarship or financial coverage for an important surgery.

But for the military community and those who have watched their loved ones ferried to their final resting place by the state's eight regal draft horses, the age-old ceremony is worth far more than the $100,000 of taxpayer money that goes into feeding, boarding, transporting and outfitting the team every year.

"When you're starting a budget process $350 million in the hole and you're trying to protect and, in many cases, increase funding to those core services government ought to provide -- education and health care -- difficult decisions need to be made," said Sanford spokesman Will Folks. "The governor is not at all disputing the fact that this is a worthwhile program."

In the fall of 1999, Elaine Weaver Williams watched the caisson carry the body of her husband, James Elliott Williams, the most decorated enlisted man in the history of the U.S. Navy. She described the procession as "very moving and beautiful."

"I had never seen it before except on television, but it meant a lot to me to know that they felt so highly about my husband," she said. "It's a tradition that I think should be upheld."

Maj. Steve Riggs, who heads the detachment on a volunteer basis, recounts numerous such testimonies as proof of the caisson's worth. Riggs has been the driving force behind the caisson, literally and figuratively.

An insurance salesman with no experience with horses, Riggs built an authentic cannon so his son could participate in Civil War re-enactments. He teamed up with Mark Herron, a downtown carriage driver, and started towing the field piece with horses.

His enthusiasm gained momentum, and he soon had eight white draft horses donated from the Army unit that handles six or so caisson burials a day at Arlington National Cemetery in Virginia.

State funding followed thanks to Sen. Glenn McConnell and others, but not before Riggs sunk $100,000 or so of his own money into authentic cavalry saddles and uniforms.

His outfit was sworn into service as part of the adjutant general's office in November 1998. Since then, the caisson outfit has helped bury about 25 soldiers, police officers and dignitaries and has marched in at least as many parades and re-enactments. Last year, the team drilled for about 8,000 schoolchildren.

The custom of the horse-drawn casket dates back to the 1600s, when teams of draft horses and trailing gurneys were used to clear battlefields of the wounded and dead. The procession developed into a solemn and formal ritual during the Napoleonic Wars. More recently, a caisson team was the last earthly transport for slain President Kennedy.

The South Carolina's caisson detachment, which has been active since late 1998, led the funeral processions of U.S. Sen. Strom Thurmond, U.S. Rep. Floyd Spence, Williams and a number of police officers killed in the line of duty. On Saturday, the caisson team carried the casket of Capt. Kimberly Hampton, a helicopter pilot from Easley who died Jan. 2 when her craft was shot down in Iraq.

About half of the $100,000 state allocation goes to feeding and boarding the shaggy-legged horses. The rest pays for gas, veterinary bills and horseshoes and for keeping the vintage gear polished and in working order. Riggs and his crew of 14 work strictly on a volunteer basis. He estimated that if his group drew pay, the caisson would cost $300,000 a year and a single burial would run $6,000.

"There are certain things that transcend money," Riggs said. "What price do you put on someone who spent their last moments on Earth protecting us?"

President Bush personally thanked Riggs for his initiative in July 2002, using Riggs as an example of his USA Freedom Corps plan, in which he urged Americans to volunteer their time for philanthropic causes.

Sanford, who was running for governor at the time, was in the crowd with Riggs waiting to greet Bush. Riggs said he asked Sanford whether he would cut the caisson's funding if he became governor. He said Sanford replied that the state would lynch him if he did.

"He's in the Reserve, and he's said he wants to be a role model to his children," Riggs said. "What kind of role model cuts one of the last true vestiges of military tradition in the state?"

But the governor has left few stones unturned in his crusade to present a "zero-based" fiscal plan for the state. To keep state spending under $5.1 billion, Sanford wants to consolidate 15 of the state's 87 agencies, cut phone and travel expenses across the board by 15 percent, and trim higher education funding by 2.6 percent. He's probed more deeply than his predecessors into little-examined corners of government, pitching plans to sell off about 6,000 of the state's vehicles, rights to a private jet and a lot of real estate.

Folks said Sanford promised to help raise private dollars to keep the caisson rolling if the Legislature decides to cut its funding.

Riggs doubted Sanford's willingness to pass the hat and said he and the 12 or so volunteers who care for the horses are stretched too thin to drum up $100,000 from donors.

"I've done all that I can do; if it gets cut it's over," Riggs said. "In truth, I really don't need this. I've got three kids in college, but it sure would be tough to leave it."

Whether the General Assembly will OK Sanford's proposal is questionable. The caisson team has been widely supported by members of both political parties. Former Gov. Jim Hodges neglected to include caisson funding in his 2002 budget plan, but McConnell, a Charleston Republican and president pro tempore, got the $100,000 tacked onto the final tally.

Sen. Hugh Leatherman, a Republican from Florence and the chairman of the Finance Committee, said he would do everything he could to make sure $100,000 was earmarked for the caisson team when the budget is voted out of his committee.

"I understand we're in a tight budget year, but with something like this, those who have need for it should still have it," Leatherman said. "If we can't provide a caisson for those protecting our freedom and willing to give their lives, I don't understand it."

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