An Infinity of Headstones

Last week, during a trip to the Nation’s Capital, I and some of my family – together with hundreds of other people – paid our respects to America’s heroes with a visit to Arlington National Cemetery in Virginia, on the other side of the Potomac River, across from The National Mall in Washington, D.C. 

 

Rows upon rows, in a seemingly endless

expression of the ultimate sacrifice.

It’s not the first time that I’ve walked upon those grounds.  Yet the site holds a special place in my heart, as do some of the other national monuments such as the Vietnam War Memorial and other similar sites dedicated to those who have fallen in the service of America.
 
The National Mall holds reminders of other conflicts – more than any of us would like to see – yet they stand as a necessary tribute, lest we forget. 
 
I’ve asked myself more than once why I feel such an attachment to these fallen men and women.  Perhaps it is because it has been my good fortune not to have lost in battle my three ‘big brothers’ who were drafted into military service during World War II.

 

Part of a large contingent visiting The Tomb of the Unknown Soldier

 at Arlington National Cemetery witness the Changing of the Guard.

It was a time of little communication.  No e-mails.  No Facebook.  No Twitter.  No Skype.  No text messaging.  No blogs.  America’s sons and daughters were fighting against the Nazis, the Fascists, and those who attacked Pearl Harbor. 
 
No one knew with any degree of certainty just how close to deadly combat those sons and daughters might be.  Letters sent to loved ones ‘back home’ were screened and sometimes edited with blacked-out phrases or sentences to ensure that no secret information was inadvertently released.
 
Civilians were entreated to observe the ubiquitous message, “Loose lips sink ships.” 
 
Those were trying times all around:  Civilian rationing of fuel, food, and commodities was common and expected – everyone did his and her share to the best of their abilities to support the men and women serving overseas.  But that was long ago, almost like a dream or a mirage, it now seems – but never quite forgotten.
 

A military funeral in progress at Arlington National Cemetery.

 To maintain the honor and privacy that this occasion required,

 the photo was taken at a great distance with a telephoto lens.

Today, there are men and women fighting just as bravely as others did in prior conflicts, and in places just as remote and as desolate as during the brutal winters of Korea, or in the steaming jungles of Vietnam. 
 
There no longer is a military draft in effect for our young people, thank goodness.  But, perhaps as a consequence of this and for other reasons, the conflicts in Iraq and Afghanistan don’t appear to be as personally threatening.
 
Yet, the brave souls who volunteered for military duty and who were sent to fight in the deserts and cities of Iraq, and, now, in the forbidding mountains and valleys of Afghanistan need the same level of appreciation, care, and concern as those who served in prior conflicts.
 
I don’t like to burst anyone’s bubble, but it seems to me that most Americans are simply too disengaged to ‘Give a Damn,’ as the rows of headstones grow longer and longer.

  

(Click on any image for an enhanced view.)