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YARD 9/21/2013 6:56:02 AM
YARD
It has been many years since I last thought about the Navy Yard in Washington, D.C.—in fact, I met a fellow just the other day, a fairly intelligent fellow, at that, who never even heard of the place until some insane cretin massacred a host of innocent people there last Sept. 16.
The Admiral of the Fleet has a residence (and an office) there, and both he and his wife were quickly removed from harm’s way.
There are many people in America who wear their patriotism on their sleeves, usually just below where they display their religion. These are people you can always find at Memorial Day parades and at church on Christmas Eve, Christmas Day and Easter Sunday. Their patriotism and their Christianity are like barbed fish hooks: no matter how hard you wriggle and thrash about, they never let go of you.
They are always the first ones to jump to their feet and place their hands over their hearts whenever the flag passes by; the first to applaud whenever a uniform dashes through the airport. Like good morticians, they are usually the last ones to let you down.
In the United States, we celebrate Armed Forces Day on the 3rd Saturday in May. Congress slated Memorial Day for the last weekend in May with the official day falling on the subsequent Monday. I guess we need back-to-back reminders that freedom is not free. Go figure
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It was in September 1984 that I received a call from Sam Cooper, the erstwhile manager of the Rochester Monroe County International Airport, inviting several of his cronies and me to a wreath laying ceremony he was to participate in at the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier at Arlington Cemetery near Washington.
I asked, How do we get there?
The Air Force will send a military plane for us, Sam told me, and see to it we get the royal treatment.
You mean like a tour of the White House, I said, and a private audience in the Oval Office with the old man?
There was a brief silence at Cooper’s end of the line, as he probably wondered why he had asked me in the first place. Ah — no, I dont think that is on the agenda.
On the appointed day, the Air Force sent a C-130 Hercules to pick up the half dozen of us, and I did not need a calculator to estimate we were outnumbered by military men at least 3 to 1. The plane was larger than the Queen Elizabeth II cruise ship; a full bird colonel and a crew of eighteen flew it.
A sergeant sat with me on a bench in the plane’s mammoth interior and before take-off he handed me a lump of rubber.
Break off a hunk, he advised, and stick a wad in each ear, sir. It will form a plug the shape of your ear duct, or the racket will bust a drum. The noise in here is unbearable. You can keep what you dont use.
He was right. The engines outside roared to life with the fury of repatriated demons, and it wasn’t long before I was traveling inside a ship the size of Delaware all the way to the Nation’s Capitol. Despite the noise, it was an experience I will never forget.
After half an hour, the sergeant tapped me on the shoulder. The colonel wants to see you up front, sir! he shouted.
I unfastened my webbed seat belt and cautiously followed the sergeant to the cockpit, a wild labyrinth of dials, gauges, wheels, levers (some overhead, totally unlike the Piper J-3 I had soloed in) and pedals that glared at me like some prehistoric monster.
Wanna take the stick? the colonel shouted, after we’d shaken hands.
Did I!… I crawled into the co-pilot’s abandoned seat, and not aware that we were already on autopilot, I pretended to fly the gargantuan ship for at least ten minutes. Of course, no matter what I did, we continued to shoot through the clouds with nary a flutter.
The massive aircraft took just over an hour to deliver us from Rochester to Andrews Air Force Base outside Washington. We were met by a stretch-limo, which took us to our rooms (I, of course, was given a suite) at the Arlington Sheraton, where the picture window in my living room overlooked the cemetery and the old Robert E. Lee mansion.
The festivities at the Tomb the following day would have been anticlimactic, what with the view from my suite and the plane ride in the C-130. We stopped enroute at various shrines and monuments, including an emotional hour at the Vietnam Memorial.
That night, after delightful cocktails, we were taken to the Washington Navy Yard Officers Club in Anacosta Park, one of several buildings alongside the Potomac River; and there, in the most elegant of settings, we enjoyed the finest dinner I had ever been served. We were attended by glowing uniformed waiters (undergrads from the Naval Academy at Annapolis, I was sure, who called us Sir and Ma’m like I had never heard since leaving Maury High in Norfolk, VA).
And I have never been plied with more exotic shrimp, lobster, steaks, roasted mash potatoes, red wine and after-dinner drinks in an exquisite setting since Barberstown Castle outside Dublin, Ireland…I recall all the waiters at the Navy Yard wore white, pristine linen gloves and saluted us each course was served.
As I say, the ceremony the next day at the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier would have been anticlimactic had it not be for the sheer elegance of the Army elite who were assigned to orchestrate the affair. I asked a number of well dressed, government-appearing officials if they could tell me about the Army guards, but only one, John Rutterman, from the Office of Parks and Recreation, seemed to know very much.
As I asked questions, I took notes. Why do the guards always take the same number of steps during their march by the Tomb?
They always take twenty-one steps, Rutterman explained. It alludes to the twenty-one-gun salute, which is the highest honor given any military or foreign dignitary.
I asked, How long does he hesitate after his about-face to begin his return walk — and why?
21 seconds — for the same reason as I already said. But he never makes an about-face. He pauses and turns to face the Tomb for precisely 21 seconds. Then he turns again and proceeds down the mat for another twenty-one steps.
I just noticed — why are his gloves always wet?
Well, he moistens his gloves to prevent losing his grip on the rifle.
Why doesn’t carry his rifle on the same shoulder all the time?
Rutterman explained, He always carries the rifle on the shoulder away from the Tomb. After his march across, and executes what you call an about-face and moves the rifle to the outside shoulder.
I wanted to know, How often are the guards changed?
The guards are changed every thirty minutes, twenty-four hours a day, 365 days a year.
I watched the guards for a moment. Amazing, isn’t it? They all look alike. What are the physical requirements?
Well, for a person to apply for guard duty at the Tomb, he must be between 5' 10” and 6' 2”, and his waist size cannot exceed 30 inches. If his waist is 31” he is disqualified. I know. I know. It is discriminatory. But get over it. The tour of duty is about a year, but the average tenure is roughly nine months.
Where do they live?
The guards either live in a barracks under the amphitheater, or at Fort Mead, or privately at an off-site home, he said. They cannot drink any alcohol on duty, and they’re not supposed to curse in public or disgrace the uniform or the Tomb in any way. Note they are all clean-shaven. No beards or moustaches. And they must be perfect gentlemen at all times.
Which means, I said wryly, they can never run for government office.
Rutterman looked at me as if he wished I would go away.
Anything else I should know? I asked.
Well, after his service each guard is given an ID badge that is worn on his jacket signifying he served as a guard of the Tomb. Currently, there are less than 400 worn.
What about their shoes? They look different.
Yes. Their shoes are specially made military brogues with very thick soles to keep heat and cold from bothering their feet. There are metal heel plates that extend to the top of the shoe in order to make the loud click as they come to a halt.
What about their uniforms?
Well, there are no wrinkles, folds or lint on them anywhere. Guards have to get dressed for duty in front of a full-length mirror, and they inspect each other for the tiniest flaw.
Anything else?
Lemme see. The first months of duty a guard cannot talk to anyone nor watch TV or attend R-rated movies. All off-duty time is spent studying the 175 notable people laid to rest in the Cemetery. A guard has to memorize who they are and where they are buried — and why they are buried here.
Like who?
Well, like President Taft and other former presidents who chose to be buried here, the boxer Joe Lewis, Medal of Honor winners like Audie Murphy, the Kennedy brothers, of course . . .
How long does it take a guard to get ready each day?
I guess about five hours a day getting his uniforms ready for guard duty.
As the ceremony was about to begin, I thanked Rutterman for his time. He said, You should go up on the steps in front of the Tomb — it is a better view from there. And no tourists will bother you. He walked away, and I never saw him again…I did notice he was wearing an ID badge on the pocket of his jacket.
He was right about the view from the steps of the amphitheater. With the Tomb in front of me, the Washington Monument off in the distance, the expanse of Arlington in between, and the occasional plane taking off from National miles away, the entire tableau was a pictorial preface to American history.
The ride home in the C-130 was uneventful, but I remember reading just the other day that when Hurricane Irene was approaching Washington that month, the Capitol shut down in anticipation of the storm. It was reported that because of the dangers from the hurricane, the military members assigned to guarding the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier were given permission to suspend their assignment.
They respectfully declined the offer. Thank you, but no way, sir!
Soaked to the skin, marching in the pelting rain and wind, they said that guarding the Tomb was not just an assignment; it was the highest honor that can be afforded a living serviceperson. The Tomb has been patrolled continuously, 24/7, since 1930, even on December 7, 1941 — and particularly on September 11, 2011.
The madness that occurred at the Navy Yard last week will be long-remembered, even by those who had never heard of the place,
