Tomb of the Unknown
It is the afternoon before the third and final night of the Patriotic Festival - a concert series in honor of the United States military and its veterans. The theme of this concert has been well-received over the Memorial Day weekend. We are in Norfolk, VA, a military stronghold, and the crowd here understands the sentiment behind this event better than most. Cody Johnson, tonight's headliner, is warming up. I am standing just off stage, watching in the shadows, and I have to pause to consider the many roads traveled that have led me to this point in my life. It is a long way from the dirt and heat of Afghanistan and Iraq, and events like tonight remind me that I am still in the fight. It looks different now, but I’m still here.
Sound check is over, and it is back to work. Within a few hours, 14,000 people will pour into this arena. The staff from Grunt Style are hurriedly putting the final touches on the retail popup store, going through the final preparations with the social media influencers that have lent their time and talent to promote the event, and coordinating with the event staff for Grunt Style’s portion of the show, where they will launch merchandise from an air cannon on-stage and into the hands of thousands of screaming concert goers.
The work of the Grunt Style Foundation in this environment is an animal of a different sort. Business leaders from patriotic organizations, both local to Norfolk and from across the country, are also in attendance. We take this opportunity to find ways we can work together to move the needle on some of the most pressing issues facing our nation’s heroes.
It is after midnight before I make it back to my AirBnB, and I have to be up again in less than four hours to get on the road heading north to Arlington, VA.
Morning comes early, and I’ve traded my Grunt Style t-shirt for a suit. Grunt Style Foundation was among only a handful of military and veteran-oriented nonprofits invited to place a wreath at the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier on Memorial Day. As I head north on I-95, I again think back to the roads that have led me to this point in my life. As it turns out, the current road I am on is a familiar one to me. Arlington National Cemetery is a special place. It is sacred. Once upon a time, I was a platoon sergeant for the Continental Color Guard, part of the Old Guard, 1st Infantry Regiment. It strikes me as a strange feeling that the gravity of this place is somehow different when walking the grounds as a civilian there to pay respect. While in uniform, this was a place I served, and I was honored to do so. Now, this is a place where part of me grieves, and I am honored to do that as well.
I park the rental car and make my way over to the Amphitheater near the Tomb. There are hundreds of spectators pouring into the viewing area ahead of the ceremony. I’m looking for a staging area for the presenters, and I struggle to make my way through the crowd. We are directed to sit with the rest of the viewing audience until the Presidential portion of the ceremony has been concluded. The President and his cabinet will be arriving soon, and once they are on the grounds, no one moves from their seat until they have departed.
Not long after the President has paid his respects and left this place, I’m summoned to a walkway off to the side of the Tomb. Each veteran organization participating in the ceremony has designed a wreath that is special to their organization and has their name printed on a ribbon that stretches across the front. They are mounted on a tripod, and representatives stand next to their wreath. I find the one that says “Grunt Style” across the front and take my place in the line. Fifteen years ago, I was standing near this same spot as the Non-commissioned Officer in Charge of the Presidential cordon for President George W. Bush as he placed his own wreath.
Since 1937, a sentinel has manned a post guarding this sacred monument. The sentinel takes exactly 21 steps along a black mat in front of the tomb, turns and pauses for 21 seconds, then turns again and pauses for another 21 seconds before taking yet another 21 steps back to where his watch began. This process is repeated until the sentinel is properly relieved.
Today’s ceremony will provide a short break in this watch as the sentinels escort dignitaries, heads of state, presidents, and today, the Grunt Style Foundation, as they honor and pay respect to the bodies of three individuals known to none but God and the countless other lives lost that the Tomb represents.
Before I know it, the wreath has been placed, and I render a salute that is more meaningful than any I’ve ever presented before. I leave the plaza alone. The formal part of the ceremony is done, but I still have one more mission to complete while I am here. I make my way to Section 60 of the cemetery, where more than one of my friends rest. Some of these men were with me when they took their last breath, and some were not. I carry all of them with me every day, but today is a special day, and I am especially aware that I am not alone.
I place a quarter on the headstone of someone whose face I cannot seem to let go of in my mind’s eye, and then I place a few dimes on the headstones of others that I was not with when they left this world but are also still beside me. I could not imagine a greater honor in my life than being asked to lay a wreath at the Tomb, but as I leave the cemetery, I realize that the $0.55 I am leaving behind has just as much meaning as the wreath on the plaza.
This We’ll Defend.
