Phil’s post-operative course went far better than expected; his recovery was far ahead of schedule. By April, he was walking comfortably in a prosthesis made of new composite materials much lighter than his last wooden leg.[1]

Things got interesting when doctors began talking of an early discharge, which meant Phil needed an Army assignment. He knew he would need some time to prepare his appeal and defense. Men in the Army’s Judge Advocate General’s (JAG) Corps advised him to complete this process before receiving notice of pending discharge.

Then another exciting development occurred: Phil discovered that his friend, Ross Calvert, had been assigned to work with their former commander, Colonel McGarr, who was serving as Post Commanding Officer at Fort Myer, Virginia, right across the river from Washington, D.C.

Also, McGarr’s boss was Brigadier General Robert N. Young, who had served both as an assistant and acting division commander of the 3rd Infantry Division from 1944–1945, and was given command of the Military District of Washington in July 1945. Of course, Marilyn was based in Washington as a stewardess for American Airlines. If there were an opening at Fort Myer, he’d be walking into a veritable beehive of friendly faces.

It took only a couple of phone conversations with Ross until Phil got the uplifting news that his old boss, Colonel McGarr, wanted to give him a job as his executive officer and assist him with his fight to stay in the service. Living in Washington, D.C., where the decision-makers lived and worked, would benefit him.

During the call, Ross told Phil about the uniqueness of the unit under his command. “I’m in charge of the 2511 Special Ceremonial Detachment assigned to Fort Myer, and we provide all of the ceremonial duties for the Military District of Washington,” he explained.

“Doing what?” Phil asked.

“Well, first of all, we have the mission of performing memorial affairs, which includes standard and full-honor funerals at the Arlington National Cemetery. We also execute all of the dignified transfers of fallen soldiers from overseas returning to the D.C. area. If there’s to be a military ceremony at the White House, the Pentagon, or any national memorial in the D.C. area, we get the call.”

“Guess I’ll need to update my dress uniforms if I come to work for you, eh?”

“That’s right,” Ross answered, chuckling. “Including your dress tuxedos. We also have the mission of performing ceremonial tasks such as a full-honor guard for the arrivals of visiting dignitaries, wreath ceremonies at the Tomb of the Unknowns, and full-honor reviews in support of senior army leaders and retiring soldiers. The Military District here provides details for hundreds of ceremonies each year.”

“Sounds like a lot of work.”

“It is, Phil. But it’s also a lot of fun. We’re in high cotton here as we get to rub elbows with some bigwigs. Whenever the head of a sovereign state visits D.C., we provide salutes, music, and honor guards. Some of my guys even get to serve as ushers at the White House and escorts for the President and Vice President. I’ve done events with both, and best of all, they get to know you by name before you know it. In fact, we had a swell event recently.”

“Do tell.”

“It happened just after General Eisenhower moved into Quarters One here at Fort Myer—that was the end of January, I believe. Then on March 9, he and his wife, Mamie, had Winston Churchill over for dinner.”

“That’s amazing.”

“Yup. And I was on the honor guard that evening. Then I and some of the men helped with dinner service. Incredible to see the two famous men enjoying cigars and a drink on the front porch and laughing about old times. Later that evening, I got to shake Churchill’s hand. I told him we had seen him on his boat just before landing in France and how we had appreciated the gesture. He told me he remembered the day—that it was Napoleon’s birthday, and he was traveling under the assumed name of ‘Colonel Kent.’ He said he opposed the invasion of southern France, but that Eisenhower and Roosevelt were not, as he said, ‘so moved.’ But once the decision was made, he prayed for its success and did everything in his power to help—including coming to see us off and support us GIs. Swell stuff, eh?”

“I’d say!”

“But my main job may be the best assignment on the post. I’m Commander of the Tomb Guards at Arlington Cemetery. I’m in charge of the best-known group of men here. In their role of protecting the Tomb, we call them ‘sentinels.’ There has been a military guard at the Tomb of the Unknowns every hour, rain or shine, snow, or ice, or sleet, tornado or hurricane, since 1926. Before that, a civilian security guard protected the tombs.”

“You said, ‘the Tomb of the Unknowns.’ I thought it was the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier.”

“Lots of folks call it that. But there’s more than one unknown there. We also provide the ‘Continental Color Guard,’ which presents the nation’s colors at special events across the Capitol region, like the Presidential Salute Battery, which renders honors to senior dignitaries at arrival. My personal favorite is the U.S. Army Caisson Platoon, which provides horses and riders to pull the caisson at military and state funerals.”

“Hate to show my ignorance, Ross, but what’s a caisson?”

“I didn’t know what it was either, Daddy-O, but it’s the wagon that carries the flag-draped coffin to the burial sites at Arlington. Caissons were common in the Revolutionary War and Civil War and used to carry ammunition. The caissons we’re using were built in 1918 and used for 75-mm cannons. But they also carried ammunition, spare parts, and tools for the cannons. For our purposes, those items have been removed and exchanged for the flat platform on which the casket sits. Horses pull the caissons.”

Phil’s eyes lit up. “Oh, yeah. I’ve seen pictures of these processions in Life magazine. Tell me about these horses.”

“We have four teams of matched blacks or grays,” Ross continued. “Three pair from each team pull the caisson. The lead pair is in front, the swing pair follows, and the wheel pair, made up of the largest and strongest horses, are closest to the caisson. They serve as the brakes, if needed. All six horses are saddled, but only the horses on each pair’s left side have mounted riders. This tradition carries over from horse-drawn artillery days when one horse carried the soldier, and the other horse carried extra supplies.

“Finally, there are two other horses per team. The commander rides one and the other, what they call the ‘caparisoned horse,’ has no rider, and is walked behind the caisson by one of our men. That horse has an empty saddle with a pair of boots reversed in the stirrups. They say the caparisoned horse symbolizes the officer’s last journey. The backward boots in the stirrups imply that the warrior has one last look at his family, who typically walk behind the caisson. But to have a caparisoned horse at your funeral, you have to achieve the rank of colonel or above or be a famous politician. They say that Abraham Lincoln was the first U.S. president to have a caparisoned horse at his funeral.”

“Guess that horse can take the day off when one of us kicks the can,” Phil quipped, but inside his gut, his emotions were swirling since the position of XO was usually reserved for a major. If Colonel McGarr offered him the job, he’d have a lot to learn and he didn’t want to fail his benefactor.

Simultaneously, excitement filled his heart because he would be around horses and living close to Marilyn.[2]

~~~~~

[1] Larimore, At First Light, 301.

[2] Larimore, At First Light, 301-303.

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December 24, 1945