By Bernie Marvin
Three years after World War 1 ended, the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier was dedicated at Arlington National Cemetery during an Armistice Day ceremony. Two days before that, an Unknown American soldier, who was killed on a World War I battleground, was taken to the nation's capital from a cemetery in France.
On that Armistice Day, in a gathering of government, military, and international officials, the unknown soldier was buried with honors beside the Memorial Amphitheater. As the soldier was lowered to his final place, a two-inch layer of dirt brought from France was put beneath his coffin so that he might rest forever atop the earth upon which he died.
The Tomb of the Unknown Soldier is considered the most hallowed grave at Arlington Cemetery, America's most sacred military cemetery. The tombstone was completed in 1932. The World War I Unknown was later joined by the unidentified remains of two other warriors from America's World War 2 and the Korean War. The tomb was then put under permanent guard by special military sentinels.
In 1998, a Vietnam War Unknown, who was buried at the tomb for 14 years, was disinterred from the Tomb after DNA testing indicated his identity. Air Force Lieutenant Michael Blassie was returned to his family in St. Louis, Missouri, and was buried with military honors there.
What I am writing here is just a small part of the significant history of how the single Tomb of the Unknown Soldier of World War 1 was expanded to three, as it now includes the Unknowns of World War 2 and the Korean War and has been made a big part of America's observance of Veterans Day.
Another small part of this history is that I, along with a small group of fellow US Marines, participated in the event at Arlington National Cemetery.
I was there that day in 1958, after being selected earlier in the year to be part of the US Marine Corps Honor Platoon that accompanied the Unknowns into the cemetery, along with many Congressional leaders, state government officials, veterans, and guests from around the world. May 30, 1958, was quite a day for us, and one I shall never forget.
The day-long epic saw the unidentified remains of two American service members be entombed in an emotional national funeral presided over by President Dwight D. Eisenhower and Vice President Richard Nixon.
The military implemented a multi-stage selection process to ensure total anonymity and geographic representation of the Unknowns selected for burial. The military brought thirteen unidentifiable remains from cemeteries in Europe and North Africa to France and selected one from there.
Six unidentifiable remains from the Philippines and Hawaii were gathered at Hickam Air Force Base, and one was selected from there.
On May 26, 1958, both caskets were placed aboard the guided-missile cruiser USS Canberra off the Virginia Capes. Hospital Corpsman 1st Class William R. Charette, a Navy Medal of Honor recipient from the Korean War, made the final selection by placing a wreath on one casket. The unselected candidate was given a solemn burial at sea.
For the Korean War Unknown, four unidentifiable remains were exhumed from the National Memorial Cemetery of the Pacific in Hawaii. On May 15, 1958, Army Master Sergeant Lyle, a Distinguished Service Cross recipient, selected the final Korean War Unknown by placing a wreath of blue and white carnations on one of the caskets.
The two final caskets lay in state in the Capitol Rotunda on the historic Lincoln catafalque until the morning of Memorial Day. I remember clearly that an all-services military Honor Guard carried the caskets on twin horse-drawn caissons through streets lined by 300,000 citizens to the Memorial Amphitheater at Arlington National Cemetery. I recall the hot weather, estimated at 92 degrees, melted our carefully worked spit-shines off our highly polished shoes.
The sweltering weather caused hundreds in the crowd and military ranks to collapse from heat exhaustion, though none in our ranks fell that day. We had worked too long and hard to faint at this point in the program.
President Eisenhower and Vice President Nixon bestowed the nation's highest honors. The caskets were lowered into crypts flanking the original WWI monument. The ceremony concluded with a 21-gun salute, a three-rifle volley, and the playing of Taps.
At the conclusion of the service, we marched in platoon formation and in silence back to our Henderson Hall Marine base located nearby in the hills next to the cemetery. Our route took us along the winding paths that weave through Arlington National Cemetery, and after about a half hour, we reached our destination.
The cemetery paths were jammed with tourists, and as they saw us approaching, they moved aside, allowing us to proceed past them. It was eerily silent; no one spoke. They just stood there and observed as we marched along; no called cadence or commands, our group of 34 Marines in perfect step. The only sounds came from our heels as they dug in, making a distinct, sharp contact with the pathways and all in perfect unison.
Silence. The respect of silence. We could feel it, see it, and as we moved over this hallowed ground, each of us felt the presence of the moment as we moved with precision and stillness. It was all we could offer our sleeping brothers and sisters that day.
I think of it often. After all the years, those moments of silence and respect remain crystal clear in my mind and when things get a bit down, or memories build or a certain sound or smell brings immediate recall of something unpleasant or sad, I relive the quieter times, like the day so long ago that I stood amongst my warrior friends, both living and dead, at Arlington National Cemetery and helped honor their days on earth.