Serving the Fallen · 11:02pm May 31st, 2021
The following excerpts are taken from "Sacred Duty: A Soldier’s Tour at Arlington National Cemetery," written by retired 1st Lieutenant Tom Cotton, 101st Airborne (Bronze Star Medal, Combat Infantry Badge, Ranger Tab), reflecting on his tour of duty with the Old Guard at Arlington Cemetery. You can read the full reflection here.
Memorial Day honors the soldiers of our nation who gave their lives in the defense of freedom. No nation can ever truly be worthy of its fallen heroes, but their example may make us strive to do better. That effort is the best way to express our gratitude.
***
"Every headstone at Arlington tells a story. These are tales of heroes, I thought, as I placed the toe of my combat boot against the white marble. I pulled a miniature American flag out of my assault pack and pushed it three inches into the ground at my heel. I stepped aside to inspect it, making sure it met the standard that we had briefed to our troops: “vertical and perpendicular to the headstone.” Satisfied, I moved to the next headstone to keep up with my soldiers. Having started this row, I had to complete it. One soldier per row was the rule; otherwise, different boot sizes might disrupt the perfect symmetry of the headstones and flags. I planted flag after flag, as did the soldiers on the rows around me. Bending over to plant the flags brought me eye-level with the lettering on those marble stones. The stories continued with each one. Distinguished Service Cross. Silver Star. Bronze Star. Purple Heart. America’s wars marched by. Iraq. Afghanistan. Vietnam. Korea. World War II. World War I. Some soldiers died in very old age; others were teenagers. Crosses, Stars of David, Crescents and Stars. Every religion, every race, every age, every region of America is represented in these fields of stone.
I came upon the gravesite of a Medal of Honor recipient. I paused, came to attention, and saluted. The Medal of Honor is the nation’s highest decoration for battlefield valor. By military custom, all soldiers salute Medal of Honor recipients irrespective of their rank, in life and in death. We had reminded our soldiers of this courtesy; hundreds of grave sites would receive salutes that afternoon. I planted this hero’s flag and kept moving.
On some headstones sat a small memento: a rank or unit patch, a military coin, a seashell, sometimes just a penny or a rock. Each was a sign that someone—maybe family or friends, or perhaps a battle buddy who lived because of his friend’s ultimate sacrifice—had visited, honored, and mourned. For those of us who had been downrange, the sight was equally comforting and jarring—a sign that we would be remembered in death, but also a reminder of just how close some of us had come to resting here ourselves. We left those mementos undisturbed.
After a while, my hand began to hurt from pushing on the pointed, gold tips of the flags. There had been no rain that week, so the ground was hard. I asked my soldiers how they were moving so fast and seemingly pain-free. They asked if I was using a bottle cap, and I said no. Several shook their heads in disbelief; forgetting a bottle cap was apparently a mistake on par with forgetting one’s rifle or night-vision goggles on patrol in Iraq. Those kinds of little tricks and techniques were not briefed in the day’s written orders, but rather got passed down from seasoned soldiers. These details often make the difference between mission success or failure in the Army, whether in combat or stateside. After some good-natured ribbing at my expense, a young private squared me away with a spare cap. We finished up our last section and got word over the radio to go place flags in the Columbarium, where open-air buildings contain thousands of urns. Walking down Arlington’s leafy avenues, we passed Section 60, where soldiers killed in Iraq and Afghanistan were laid to rest if their families chose Arlington as their eternal home. Unlike in the sections we had just completed, several visitors and mourners were present. Some had settled in for a while on blankets or lawn chairs. Others walked among the headstones. Even from a respectful distance, we could see the sense of loss and grief on their faces. Once we finished in the Columbarium, “mission complete” came over the radio and we began the long walk up Arlington’s hills and back to Fort Myer. In just a few hours, we had placed a flag at every grave site in this sacred ground, more than two hundred thousand of them. From President John F. Kennedy to the Unknown Soldiers to the youngest privates from our oldest wars, every hero of Arlington had a few moments that day with a soldier who, in this simple act of remembrance, delivered a powerful message to the dead and the living alike: you are not forgotten."
***
"Since 1948, when The Old Guard became the Army’s ceremonial unit and official escort to the president, it has marched in inaugural parades, performed ceremonies at the White House and the Pentagon, and provided color guards and a drill team for events around the capital, among other missions. But one mission takes priority above all else: military-honor funerals in Arlington National Cemetery. In manning, in training, in operating, funerals always come first, and they are a no-fail, zero-defect mission. While we often performed more than 20 funerals a day, we knew that—for the fallen and the family—each funeral was a once-in-a-lifetime moment, a lifetime in the making. No matter how often we conducted funerals—and most of us performed hundreds of them—the pressure to achieve perfection for the fallen and their families never relented.
Lieutenant Colonel Allen Kehoe, the battalion commander in charge of Old Guard funerals, has served in the 75th Ranger Regiment and is a five-time combat veteran. Yet he told me, “I’ve never experienced pressure like this anywhere else in the Army.” He paused and added, “I know that sounds crazy.” Perhaps to some, but not to me, and not to his soldiers. We felt the same pressure every day in Arlington, the pressure to perform our sacred duty to honor America’s heroes.
Nothing interferes with The Old Guard’s mission in Arlington—and when I say nothing, I mean nothing, not even 9/11. On that beautiful morning, the 9 o’clock funerals were underway when American Airlines Flight 77 slammed into the Pentagon, blasting debris across Washington Boulevard into the cemetery’s southeastern corner. The Old Guard’s Medical Platoon rushed to the scene, becoming the first soldiers to deploy to a battlefield in the War on Terror. Yet those funerals continued. So did the 10 o’clock funerals. And the 11 o’clock funerals. Over the next month, even as hundreds of Old Guard soldiers pulled guard duty at the Pentagon and carried remains from the crash site, funerals never stopped in Arlington.
Last year was no different during the state funeral for President George H.W. Bush. As the nation awoke to news of his passing, The Old Guard had already assembled in the pre-dawn darkness of a Saturday morning. Over the next six days, hundreds of Old Guard soldiers would honor the old aviator in Texas and at Andrews Air Force Base, the Capitol, and the Washington National Cathedral. Yet far from the limelight, funerals in Arlington continued as planned. As one Old Guard soldier told me, “Our standards remain the same, whether it’s President Bush or a private first class.” Old Guard companies have industrial-quality press machines in their barracks to achieve razor-sharp pant creases. We measured uniform insignia out to one-sixty-fourth of an inch. Sitting down in uniform between funerals was prohibited to avoid wrinkles. We prepared for funerals in sweltering summer heat, winter blizzards, and driving rain. Even when inclement weather shuts down the cemetery, it does not stop The Old Guard from performing funerals on time and to standard.
Each morning, casket teams practiced folding the flag, even though they had folded thousands of them. Firing parties practiced their three-volley salute, seven rifles cracking as one in the parking lot. In the cemetery, we talked through the key sequences and cues before each funeral, sometimes conducting the very same talk-through six times in a day. Nothing was taken for granted. For rare or complex funerals, The Old Guard goes to even greater lengths. I participated once in a group burial for twelve soldiers killed in a helicopter crash in Iraq. We rehearsed it for several days. Last year, The Old Guard dedicated the newest 27 acres of the cemetery by laying to rest two unknown Civil War soldiers whose remains were recently discovered at the battlefield of the Second Battle of Bull Run. The soldiers involved rehearsed the mission six times. Researchers believe, incidentally, that the two soldiers may have died from wounds suffered during the Union’s failed assault on the third and final day of the battle—an assault in which The Old Guard participated.
Arlington is not the only site of The Old Guard’s mission to honor our fallen. Since the earliest days of the Iraq War, The Old Guard has performed the dignified transfer of remains at Dover Air Force Base in Delaware, where our nation’s fallen soldiers return home for the last time. My tour with The Old Guard coincided with the Surge in Iraq, so sadly we had Dover missions almost every night—and they typically happened at night, given the flight times and time zone changes. Whatever the time and whatever the conditions, The Old Guard was there when the remains landed. My soldiers and I once drove to Dover two days early to get ahead of a potential blizzard. If a soldier was coming home, we would be there to honor him. Most Americans have seen the iconic photographs of flag-draped cases at Dover; few have stood among them on that windy ramp. But Old Guard soldiers have. We’ve stood alone in the cargo hold, inspecting flags for the slightest deficiencies. We’ve strained with a heavy case of a fallen soldier still in full combat gear, packed in ice. We’ve felt the lightweight cases of the dissociated remains of a soldier killed by an improvised bomb, the enemy’s most deadly weapon in Iraq and Afghanistan. We’ve saluted from the airplane as the remains were driven away to be prepared for the return to their family."
***
"No one summed up better what The Old Guard of Arlington means for our nation than Sergeant Major of the Army Dan Dailey. He shared a story with me about taking a foreign military leader through Arlington to lay a wreath at the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier. Sergeant Major Dailey said, “I was explaining what The Old Guard does and he was looking out the window at all those headstones. After a long pause, still looking at the headstones, he said, ‘Now I know why your soldiers fight so hard. You take better care of your dead than we do our living.’”
***
I'd like to close with some words of my own. Many have fallen in the cause of freedom, and many of their still-living comrades still need support. I encourage you to consider how you might contribute to that duty once undertaken by the fallen.
That may mean supporting a charity; I’ve listed a couple that I’m more familiar with below.
That may mean buying from a veteran-owned and operated business like Black Rifle Coffee Company (who’ve made it their mission to employ 10,000 veterans; also, their coffee rocks).
That may simply mean reaching out to the veterans in your own life and making the connection, because the need for human connection is a universal constant of our species.
Raising awareness of the frequency and dangers of Traumatic Brain Injury (TBI, see Warriors Heart below) can save lives, as many soldiers don’t report their injuries at the time and then are denied VA care later. Raising awareness for psychological support is also critically important.
Thank you all for reading.
Thank you to all who served, and may the fallen rest in the peace of God.
Warriors Heart: Strength Through Healing - https://www.warriorsheart.com/kyle-lamb-john-lovell-discussion/
Headstrong - https://getheadstrong.org/
Veteran Support Line - https://www.veteranscrisisline.net/
Well said, as always.
I have the great fortune these days to be living down the road from a Vietnam veteran. We don't talk much about the war or experiences therein, but even being in his presence brings a kind of awe and air of respect that I haven't felt around a lot of people. Makes me appreciate his service and sacrifice all the more.
One of the most humbling things I've ever done was go overseas in direct support of an armed forces mission. I'm certainly no expert on the subject, but it did occur to me at the time - and especially when we heard of the incidents of the USS Fitzgerald and USS John S McCain, for it was around that time - that we could be called on at any time to be heroic.
None of us who go abroad ever think of ourselves as heroes, no matter what feats we end up performing. To do so would be a disservice to the heroes of our nation's past, we think. No hero ever asked or applied to be a hero. It's just what anyone would do, they say.
5528357
I'm always struck by how literally every Medal of Honor guy I've heard talk about what we did always seems so uncomfortable with the decoration - they don't want it. They can only ever think of the guys who didn't make it back and they don't want to be called heroes. The thing is, if their brothers were still alive to see them, they'd say, "He's a hero."
5528189
That's great that you feel that way. Vietnam vets were so mistreated during the war, and they're often still treated shamefully now. You give him the respect he often didn't get at the time.
I'll always respect and give my eternal gratitude to the men who fought for each life while giving up their own, whether or not they did it out of selflessness or patriotism. I'll always regard them as those that serve freedom to others. And forevermore, the hour of keeping peace, tranquility, and above all, courage. Courage to inspire others to rise up and fight against tyrants like Hitler, or the evils of political ideologies like that of communism. They died heroes, while many of us back then during Vietnam, saw them as villains. For that I'm ashamed we had that period. But now whenever there's a veterans rally, I always go up to them and say thank you. For this country.
P.S. I wonder what'll the ponies (including our Mane Six and their family or friends, and princesses' reactions be like to this (especially to the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier and their silent guardians, The Sentinels)?
PPS. I'd like to know personally what Shining Armor's reaction and thoughts be like to this especially.
5604065
Well, this story I found years ago shows at least how the CMCs would react to the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier (at least the Equestrian version). https://www.fimfiction.net/story/353607/1/lest-we-forget/lest-we-forget
5604116
I mean in stories where they are friends and/or allies with humans, just what do you think their reactions will be to seeing their American friends honoring their dead in the most respectful, disciplined, and honorable way. Surely they be impressed but also touched right?
5604152
Gotcha. In that case, I believe our favorite pastel ponies would be duly moved to tears by the loyalty, compassion, generosity, integrity, good humor, and fraternal bonds shared between those who have laid down their lives on the alter of freedom.
5605307
Sorry for lateness, I just didn't know what to say really, but I'm deeply satisfied and moved by this answer. I might write this into a story, hopefully my writing isn't horrible as it once was.
I can totally imagine. 😔 🙏 Solemn Respect. RIP Fearless Braves. (My name for the military servicemen)