My Visit to Arlington National Cemetery

 

           The Tomb of the Unknown was straight in front of us, and to our right side, there was a sign that said SERVICES which had a big arrow to the right.  My mom and I were pulling into Arlington National Cemetery for my great aunt Barbara’s funeral, and there was a very gloomy atmosphere that seemed to envelope everything around us.  All around us dull, gray clouds were out, and it was hazy outside.  It’s too bad I’ve never met Barbara.  Even though I’ve never met Barbara, this will still be a great experience.        

           The procession then slowly wound its way through Arlington until we pulled up in front of a mammoth, brown building that was labeled VISITOR CENTER.  Inside the placid waiting room at Arlington, visitors had gathered from all over the U.S.  We were all packed in one room like the peanuts that are put into moving boxes. The room was very quaint, and the receptionist offered us all some candy as if to take our minds off the stuffy room.  I soon realized that it was stale, but did not want to show disrespect at Arlington so I toughed it out despite the burning desire to spit it out.

           After thirty minutes, a well-shaven man came forward from a door and announced, “The funeral processions will now begin.” He then about-faced, marched back through the door, and shut it firmly.

           “Impressive,” I commented.

           “Extremely well dressed,” returned my mom.

           We then began the descent down the many long and winding roads to the covered area where Barbara’s service would be held.  The clanging of the flag pole is making a cool echo, I thought as we found our seats and patiently wasted time.  The amount of unnamed graves is so sad and the way the sun makes the graves gleam is creepy, kept racing through my mind.

           “The endless fields of seemingly never-ending polished graves are amazing,” I whispered to my mom.

           “Just think of all the people who have died for our freedom of speech and all the other freedoms we enjoy,” she respectfully reminded me with a slight tear in her eye.   After a sharp doooo tooooo dooooo reverberated through the calm morning, Taps began. Shortly after the echoes ended, the clamor of a horse-drawn carriage began to echo throughout ‘our’ section of Arlington.  A horse and a wooden platform slowly appeared.  The platform was well painted, and was also perfectly crafted with the utmost perfection.  They sure do take the time and effort for the funerals here!  It is good to see that they treat the body of the departed with such respect.  The spiffy Navy pallbearers unloaded what was left of my great aunt’s cremated body. The rest of the service becomes blurry at this point, but I do remember suddenly being awakened to a loud cacophony.  As I later found out, this was the 21-gun salute.  The funeral procession then ended after a few closing remarks, and we began our trek up the winding roads to the visitor center.

           “Why did Barbara die?”

           “Old age,” was the terse reply from my mom.  I was in a semi-dreary state, and we were walking back up to the funeral center’s waiting area. The soldiers had nicely cleaned up after the horse, but the odiferous stench of the horse still drifted to my nose.  I was paying attention to the odor when something by the gutter caught my eye.  Needless to say, I was thoroughly amazed to have spied the lone casing the soldiers had missed during their tedious cleanup rounds. I was so proud of myself, but my Mom told me I should give it to Aunt Jodie to give to Johnathan when she got home, since his aunt had just died. Johnathan doesn’t need it – he already is receiving the American flag that I want!  I don’t feel bad about keeping the casing, because just as I predicted Johnathan was given the neatly folded American flag that draped Barbara’s coffin.

           They made the flag all nice and presentable and even put it in a plastic cover.  I listened with respect as the Caller commanded his soldiers.  These were a bunch of weird sounds, but it sounded pretty cool to me.

           “Ooot,” he shouted.  The officer’s  next command was “Forward march!”  “Halt,” he commanded.  The command that he issued for the flag was, “Fold.” They took forever to fold it, but this was due to the care they put into folding it.  I counted to see how many times they folded it, and I counted 25 right angles made.  I later found out that the flag can show no red, and this is why the care was taken.  It was then finally cased, and to this day I’m sure it was enough for Johnathan.   His final demanding command was “About face.”

           As we walked back to the visitor center, I reflected on the service.  I was then in a somber mood as we left Arlington, and as we approached the Tomb of the Unknown for the second time that day, I noticed it was much nicer outside.  In fact, the clouds seemed to part like a red carpet for the sun as I finally realized what sacrificing for others really is all about.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

GRAVE EXPERIENCES:

James R.

Scholastic Writing Silver Key