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Arlington National Cemetery on Veterans Day
(November 13, 2010) |
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| WASHINGTON, Nov. 12, 2010 – Visiting Arlington National
Cemetery on an ordinary day makes the day itself
extraordinary. It is a place that imposes its own mood:
reflective, sweetly melancholic, unabashedly patriotic.
Rank upon rank of small white crosses stand among gently
rolling, green hills. Old Guard soldiers, solemn and remote,
endlessly pace a slow and ceremonial vigil before the
nation's entombed and revered dead.
The Tomb of the Unknowns is here, as is the tombstone of
heavyweight champion and Army veteran Joe Louis. Ira Hayes'
grave is there, and Lee Marvin's. The last Buffalo Soldier
and a young woman killed in the Virginia Tech shootings --
the daughter of veterans -- also rest here.
On Veterans Day, Arlington National Cemetery is the
military's sacred grove, its place of deepest mystery. On
this day above all others, people seem drawn to its
sanctity.
Thousands of visitors speaking every language under the sun
pass through Arlington's gates on Nov. 11. This year, as a
former soldier and the wife and daughter of soldiers, I
gathered my small courage to come here to honor the fallen.
Each Veterans Day, an American leader places a wreath at the
Tomb of the Unknowns to honor America's veterans and
servicemembers who have died in combat. Today, hundreds of
people gathered at the tomb, the heart of Arlington National
Cemetery, in the hour before the ceremony.
Dotted through the diverse crowd were white-haired veterans
in their service caps and men and women in uniforms –- and
in wheelchairs. Patiently and quietly, adults, teenagers and
small children watched and waited. The Old Guard soldiers
paced.
Black wool overcoats rubbed shoulders with leather biker
jackets, and red pumps stood next to running shoes. Apart
from an occasional murmur from the scores of solemn
spectators lining the steps, the only sounds were the
whisper of falling leaves and the crisp crack of brass heel
plates as the honor guard at the Tomb of the Unknowns paced
off the measured movements of the Army's 3rd U.S. Infantry's
vigil.
At 11 a.m., Vice President Joe Biden, accompanied by Maj.
Gen. Karl R. Horst, commander of the U.S. Army Military
District of Washington, walked into the space where normally
only the guards may enter.
It is a silent ceremony. Honor guards from each service
slow-march into position before the wreath is placed. They
are resplendent in dress uniforms -- disciplined, solemn,
young, all races, both sexes, all services, completely
magnificent.
Except for the commands of their leaders and the
announcement of the official party's arrival, there is no
speech. Speeches will follow, away from the tomb, but within
that space so reverently, so ceremonially guarded, there is
no room for talk.
Biden moved forward and set the ceremonial wreath in place.
He stepped back and placed his hand over his heart as the
piercing bugle notes of “Taps” floated through the chilly,
sunlit air.
Throughout the year, Americans old and new come to
Arlington, perhaps, because Arlington holds something of all
Americans.
The graves belong to veterans and their families. But those
veterans were part of, not apart from, their country. Like
today's veterans, like today's servicemembers –- like so
many in today's American population -- they were humans
called to sometimes superhuman effort.
Earlier this week, a sergeant-turned-entrepreneur told me he
believes Americans simplify our veterans as either victims
or heroes. Veterans are people, Zack Bazzi said, and they
are as complex and multifaceted as any other people.
I believe Zack is right. He was speaking to me at a
volunteer event with other veterans. They were building a
house, and there was sweat, dirt, laughter and talk of beer.
It's possible that Arlington's secret is that it shows both
sides of those who rest here.
These men and women simply were ordinary people who chose to
serve in the armed forces of our country. Many of those
resplendent young men and women at Arlington yesterday --
and the generals too, most likely -- went home last night
and watched television, read a bedtime story or walked the
dog.
Arlington National Cemetery is a military place. The U.S.
military is an American institution. Part of us is in it -–
a son or daughter, niece or nephew, father or mother -- and
it is part of us. It is part of our history, part of our
legacy as Americans, a symbol of our national grief and our
national strength.
A military funeral here is imbued with a weight of dignity,
of profound sorrow for a brother or sister in arms. Visiting
the cemetery to say goodbye to a friend or loved one brings
an added dimension to the profound and dreaded act of
grieving a death.
It offers a glimpse, even to those who have never served, of
the simple but mysterious bonds –- truly the bonds of a
family -- rooted deep in the heart of those who wear or have
worn the nation's uniform.
Next year, I hope to be among the visitors at Arlington on
Veterans Day once again. I'll bring my daughters, and I hope
they'll share the awe that I felt here on Veterans Day 2010. | |
By Karen Parrish
American Forces Press Service
Copyright 2010
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